Cavanaugh's Missing Person. Marie Ferrarella
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incident was less than a few hours old. There was a time not that long ago when Hunter would have been surprised that news about a potential “new” case could travel so fast.
But he had learned that there was an inside private line of communication within the departments, especially when it came to all matters concerning any of the Cavanaughs. It was almost as if at least some of them—if not all—were blessed with telepathy.
Hunter laughed at Murdoch’s suggestion. “Not if she has anything to say about it,” he told his friend.
“That cold case is yours, right? The guy without the head and hands,” Murdoch specified just for the record as they walked over to the elevator bank.
“Right. That was my first case when I came into the Cold Case Division. I’ve managed to clear some of the other ones since then, but that one,” Hunter told his friend, “it just kept going nowhere.”
“Well, I heard that the case Kenzie just caught today looks as if it might be connected to your cold case,” Murdoch repeated. “Both victims lost their heads.”
Hunter shook his head, softly laughing to himself. “You Cavanaughs are just amazing, you know that? Somebody not knowing any better would say that you all seem to operate on the same mental wavelength.”
Murdoch grinned. “Hey, who says that we don’t?” he laughed. “Seriously, though, if Kenzie’s case is somehow connected to yours, this could be the first big break you’ve had with it in a long while. I know how territorial she can be at times. Whatever you do, don’t let her chase you away.”
“Oh, I have no intentions of letting her do that,” Hunter assured the other detective. Belatedly, he pressed for the elevator. “I just plan on backing off for a minute or so to allow her to cool off and regroup. After that, I plan to go at this case again, this time full speed ahead. If there is a connection, I’m going to use it to my advantage. It’s time this cold case was finally put to bed.”
Murdoch nodded his approval. “Good for you. Kenzie’s a good detective, one of the best, but she needs to know that she can’t just boss people around whenever she wants to. You have every right to the information about this case as she does.”
Hunter had to laugh at the simple statement. He bet that Kenzie didn’t see it that way.
The elevator car arrived and he got on. Murdoch remained where he was, so Hunter put his hand up to keep the doors from closing just yet.
“You want to tell her that?” he asked Murdoch.
“Me? You kidding? Not on your life. Becoming a lion tamer might be easier. As a matter of fact,” Murdoch said, “I’m damn sure of it. Good luck, though,” he said to Hunter as the elevator door closed.
Hunter took the elevator up to his floor. He wanted to stop by his squad room long enough to let Valdez know what he was going to be doing for the next few days—or possibly longer.
As he got off the elevator, Hunter felt a rush of adrenaline, the way he always did whenever he felt he was closing in on a case. In his estimation, there was nothing else like it.
“We caught a break, Valdez,” he told his partner as the latter was enjoying his third cup of inky-black, lukewarm coffee.
Valdez looked up. “You mean that lead that Wilson was going on about actually panned out? That head that those kids found in Aurora Park belongs to your cold case?”
“No, but it looks like the killer might be the same guy who beheaded my guy. I think we’re finally going to be getting some answers,” Hunter told Valdez, trying his best not to sound too excited. “Looks like I’m going to be working with Kenzie Cavanaugh in Missing Persons for a week.”
Valdez looked at him a bit doubtfully. “Does she know that?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, she’s about to find out now,” Hunter said to his partner with an air of finality that left no room for doubt.
It was a known fact that Kenzie didn’t welcome merging with other departments unless it was her idea. This didn’t sound like it was that.
Valdez studied his partner for a long moment before finally asking, “Where would you like me to send your remains?”
Hunter suddenly found himself in the unique position of having to defend the very woman he knew would have been more than happy to see his head served on a platter.
“She’s not all that bad,” he told Valdez, doing his best to sound as if he believed what he was saying.
“Oh really? Well, I hear she’s a spitfire,” Valdez said, calling after his partner as Hunter walked out again. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s your funeral, Brannigan.”
“Good thing my life insurance is paid up,” Hunter shot back at his partner.
He left the squad room grinning with anticipation.
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