Cavanaugh Justice: The Strong Silent Type Part 10

This time, he actually grinned. "I wouldn't hold my breath over that."

By the end of the day, through the combined efforts of the small task force the captain had allowed Hawk and Teri to pull together, they had come up with a total of thirty-six robberies and home invasions that had taken place in the last five years, all showing no signs of forced entry.

In the most recent cases, there were notations that several witnesses, including one victim, had actually seen the home invaders using a key to open the front door and get into the house.

Mulrooney tossed the last file he'd been reviewing on his desk. The contents spilled out, touching a pile of empty cellophane wrappers. He paused a moment before scooping up the papers and pus.h.i.+ng them back between the manila file.

"How come n.o.body ever made the connection before?" he marveled.

The answer to that was simple. "Because they weren't looking for it," Teri told him. "And because it was just one of a thousand other pieces of information that was acc.u.mulated putting the cases together. Tomorrow, we start calling on these good people to find out if they'd ever used a valet service of any kind." Realizing that she'd usurped him again, she turned her chair toward Hawk. "Okay by you, fearless leader?"

He was surprised that she even bother to pretend to check with him. Cavanaugh was one of those women who just naturally took over. Another thing he had to be on the alert for. That she didn't just manage to naturally take over everything, him included.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. He should be irritated, he thought. Not that being a leader had ever mattered to him, but she was trying to make a run for the finish line and that was supposed to annoy him more than it did.

What the h.e.l.l was going on here? he questioned himself again. As before, there was no real answer.

She slanted a look in his direction the moment the others were gone. "So, what's your favorite breakfast food?"

Hawk didn't bother looking up. "I don't eat breakfast."

He would once he attended one of her father's ma.s.sive breakfasts. There was no food shortage here. Andrew Cavanaugh cooked as if he was trying to feed an army. "That'll change."

Okay, maybe he was getting tired of Cavanaugh taking over at that. "Since when did someone make you king of the world?"

"No king," she replied, giving him her most innocent face. "I just believe in honoring your debts, that's all."

"Very n.o.ble, but this isn't a debt yet. It's not over by a long shot."

She thumped the files. "You have to admit this is too much of a coincidence."

Ordinarily, he'd agree. But not when she was so d.a.m.n c.o.c.ksure of herself. It pushed him to the other side of the fence. "It still could be. People get careless, they leave their doors and windows unlocked. Could just be a matter of burglars seizing an opportunity."

"And could be more," she insisted quietly.

"Yeah," he allowed, getting back to work, not wanting to look in her direction any longer, not until he got himself back in the right gear. Right now, he was having all sorts of thoughts that were interfering with his work. "It could be more."

"Well, I'm going cross-eyed," Mulrooney announced to no one in particular as he tossed down a file. He rose to his feet. "Time to call it a day and head on home to the light of my life." The last phrase was uttered with more than a little sarcasm.

Teri looked in his direction. Mulrooney had been married to the same woman for over thirty years. The woman, in her opinion, deserved a medal for valor over and above the call of duty. "You're lucky Charlotte doesn't throw you out."

He pretended to take umbrage. "Hey, where she's going to find a better catch than me?"

"She's probably checking eBay right now," Ka.s.sidy cracked, powering down his computer. He pulled his things together, following his partner's lead.

Mulrooney laughed, but Teri noted that he tossed out the half-eaten candy bar he'd just brought back from the vending machine. The man's shadow could definitely use some toning down.

"You should talk." Mulrooney jeered at Ka.s.sidy as the two walked toward the door. "I don't know why your wife hasn't left you by now."

Ka.s.sidy laughed off the idea. "Haven't you heard? Us thin guys make great lovers."

"In your dreams," Mulrooney told him as they walked out of the office.

"No, in his wife's," Teri called out after the departing men.

Sitting back in her chair, Teri looked around. The office was almost chillingly quiet. For the first time today, she became aware of the hum of the fluorescent bulb just above her desk. That meant it was going to give up the ghost soon. Maybe she should, too. At least for tonight. Everyone else had already left for the day.

Except for Hawk.

He'd been here when she came in, early for once. And, from the looks of it, he would be here after she left.

She studied his profile for a moment. What went through his mind, she wondered. When he was alone, what did he think of?

"Do you ever wonder what it's like?" Teri finally asked.

More conversation. Resigned, Hawk raised his eyes to look at her. "What what's like?"

"Having someone to come home to." Was he lonely, she wondered. She knew she would be in his place. But then, she'd been raised in a crowd scene. She couldn't remember when there weren't people around. For him, life had been different.

"Nope."

"Must be nice to be so self-contained."

"It is." His tone left no room for argument.

But when she left several minutes later, Hawk found the silence disturbing.

She really was getting to him.

Chapter Nine.

C laire stood behind the door, counting off the minutes. Waiting until she was sure he was gone. Then, bracing her shoulders, she opened the door again, needing to fill the small apartment with fresh air.

Needing to feel that fresh air on her skin.

Her eyes swept up and down the path that led to her garden apartment.

There was no one else around.

He'd brought the restlessness back, this man with his gray-blue eyes and his photo alb.u.m. She could feel her adrenaline warming, coursing through her veins.

It made her want to cry.

She'd finally, finally reconciled with the dark hole that was at the center of her life. Finally reconciled with not ever knowing.

It was as if she'd been born fifteen years ago. Born wandering a road, her hair wet, her clothes damp and clinging to her body. Her mind had been a blank, her body filled with pain.

She'd long since given up trying to remember, other than thinking someone had to be after her. Someone who would hurt her if he ever found her.

Why else had there been so many bruises on her body? Why else had there been such a bleeding gash on her forehead?

And why else had there been such a feeling of terror inside of her, terror before her mind ever came into its hazy focus?

So she'd hidden herself. Hidden herself behind a name she'd put together from two articles in the newspaper, hidden herself inside a life she'd st.i.tched together from the bits and pieces that came her way, never getting as close to anyone as she wanted, afraid that would be taken away from her, too.

All the while waiting for something to happen. For someone to find her.

Was this Andrew Cavanaugh the one she'd been waiting for?

She didn't know.

If he was who he said he was-her husband, the father of these children whose faces meant nothing to her-wouldn't she have remembered? Wouldn't something have been triggered inside when he looked at her?

Instead, all she felt was panic, a growing panic. And confusion.

Taking a step out to make sure he was really gone, her toe came in contact with something.

Claire looked down and saw the book the man had tried to make her take. She stared at it for a long moment, then bent down and picked it up.

She touched the pages. They were worn, as if they had been well-read. Well loved.

Flipping to the front, she saw that there was a card stuck there. And there was an inscription across the t.i.tle page. To my Rose. All my love forever, Andy.

Andy.

She pa.s.sed a hand over her forehead. The headaches were starting again. The headaches that brought with them half-formed bits of memories that refused to a.s.sume any kind of lasting shape or form.

Claire sighed, closing the book and holding it to her chest. "I wish I could remember you, Andy. I wish I could remember," she whispered to the man who wasn't there.

She took the book inside with her when she closed the door.

"Okay, Dad, what's up?" Shaw asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Behind him was Callie. He'd picked her up on his way over here. She was alone, sans her fiance and Brent's daughter, who had now become regulars at the table. Their father had specifically asked that they all come today, but without their intended mates. From the looks of it, even their cousins seemed to be excluded.

Everyone thought the request rather odd, especially since Andrew liked nothing better than having the house filled to the rafters. "The more the merrier" applied not only to family, but to friends and even pa.s.sing acquaintances.

This was different.

This was for immediate family only.

Teri had been the first one down, followed closely by Rayne. Clay had arrived not five minutes later. "Looks like we're all here." Teri turned expectantly toward her father.

Was it her imagination, or did he look paler lately? He'd been so quiet these past two days. It wasn't like him. Something was wrong. His behavior made her uneasy. No matter how carefree she liked to portray herself, she didn't like the dynamics changing within their family. She never had.

"Yeah, what's the big mystery?" Clay pressed. Sitting down, he helped himself to breakfast. Very little interfered with his appet.i.te.

On the table stood, by Andrew's standards, only a meager offering. Pancakes and eggs with slices of toast piled haphazardly on the side. Usually there was at least twice as much available.

Concern entered Callie's eyes. Instead of sitting down, she crossed to her father and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Dad, is there something wrong?"

Backing away, Andrew held his hand out, silencing his oldest daughter. He searched for words that should have been the happiest he'd ever uttered. Words that were being held prisoner because the woman he'd found, the one who he had been searching for for such a long time, didn't know him.

His eyes swept over the faces of his children, his heart growing heavier by the moment. "I found your mother."

For a second, there was nothing but silence in the normally noisy kitchen. Aching, awkward silence. They'd been here before, brought to this destination by rumors that turned out not to be true, leads that ended nowhere. It was too much to go through again.

"Dad-" Shaw began, rising from his place at the table.

Andrew waved him into silence. "No, hear me out." His voice was strained, filled with emotions he was trying to rein in.

Teri saw her brothers and sisters all exchange bewildered looks. Had it finally happened? Had looking for their mother finally taken a toll on him, pushed him over the edge? She wanted to throw her arms around him, to beg him not to do this to himself.

But even as she rose from her chair, Rayne's next question froze her in place.

"Was it that woman, Dad?" Rayne asked suddenly. "That woman at the diner?" Her eyes widened. "Did you go up to see her?"

"What woman?" Clay asked. "What diner?" He looked from one blank face to another. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Yes," Andrew replied, looking at his youngest. "I went up to see her."

"See who?" Clay demanded again.

Teri bit her lower lip. It broke her heart to see him like this. He had to give it up. "Dad, we've been through this before-"

Andrew didn't waste his time making any protests. He was a man of the law, after all, and evidence was almost always the final word. He gave it to his children now. "I matched her prints."

"What prints? Start at the beginning, please," Callie begged, giving voice to what they were all thinking.

For the past two days, he had been wrestling with this, with what he knew and what had happened when he'd gone up to see Rose, searching for a way to tell them. Wondering if he should tell them.

He finally came to the conclusion that they deserved to know, even if there never was a proper resolution.

"Rayne saw her first," he told them quietly, his voice throbbing with emotion. "She stopped at a diner on her way up the coast last month and was struck by this waitress working there. The woman looked just the way your mother would have if..." His voice cracked and he cleared it, momentarily unable to continue.

Teri turned to look at her younger sister. "Why didn't you say something?" she demanded. Why had she kept this to herself? For years, all the clues, all the leads, had been made available to all of them. They'd dissected everything, always together. Why was it different now?

Rayne raised her chin defensively. "I did." She nodded toward their father. "To Dad. I thought maybe I was imagining it." She looked at him now. "But I wasn't, was I, Dad?"

"No, you weren't." Everyone started asking questions at once. He held his hand up for quiet. "I went up to see for myself and got her to leave her prints on a spoon. I took that to Claude Wilkins, had him match it against the prints on that book your mother loved so much."

"Gone with the Wind," Teri murmured almost to herself. Her pulse was racing as she listened to her father, as she hung on each unembroidered word. Unable to believe that it was true even if her heart wanted it to be. This was just another trip up the garden path, another trip that would bring them back full circle to where they'd started. Without her mother. She looked at her father, a tiny piece of information falling into place. "So that was what you were doing at the crime lab."