Cavanaugh Cold Case (11 page)

“Why don't we continue this inside Malone's?” he suggested. “Where it's dry,” he added so that she understood why he'd said what he had. “You can ask me anything you want then.”

His teasing comment made her realize that she was still standing out in the rain with her less-than-effective umbrella, listening to his every word.

What was the matter with her?

She knew better, and she definitely had enough sense to come in out of the rain. So what was she doing here, getting soggy, talking to someone she had just recently been trying to get away from?

She had no answer for that, which bothered her even more.

“Right,” she murmured. “Sure.” Neither word sounded very convincing to her ear. “You lead the way,” she added unnecessarily as she slid behind the wheel of her car again, doing her best to simultaneously close her umbrella as she did so.

She still managed to get wetter. Muttering to herself, she tossed the umbrella on the floor of the passenger side.

Malloy pretended to take no notice as he got into his own car.

A minute later, he was leading her out of the parking lot and onto the main drag in front of the precinct. From there, it was a very short trip to the bar he had invited her to.

* * *

Despite the weather, the parking lots behind and in front of Malone's were more than three-quarters full. They had to find spaces that weren't next to one another or even in the same row.

He saw a spot closer to the building and, flashing his rear lights to catch her attention, directed Kristin to it. Once she understood and eased her car into the parking space, he went looking for one of his own.

After finding one, he parked his vehicle and then hurried over toward the rear entrance.

He was surprised to find Kristin waiting for him outside the building, right under the eaves.

“Why didn't you go inside?” he asked her once he was close enough for her to hear him.

“I thought if you didn't see me, you'd leave, and the whole idea of coming here was because you wanted to have a drink together. I didn't want to sit in there, waiting and wondering how long I should give you before I gave up and went home.”

“You wouldn't have had to wait at all,” he assured her. Malloy opened the door. Flashing a smile, he took her lightly by the arm and guided her into Malone's
.
“I wouldn't have kept you waiting. Takes less than two minutes to hurry across any corner of the parking lot to Malone's entrance.”

He was being charming again, Kristin thought. Right now, he had far more going for him than against him—which was bad. She'd do well to get away from him as soon as possible.

“Just one drink,” she reminded him.

“And a cheeseburger,” he added.

She supposed there was no harm in that. “And a cheeseburger,” she echoed a second before the warmth generated by the bodies within Malone's hit her, welcoming her as if she were an old friend instead of a stranger.

Chapter 10

W
hile not overwhelmingly loud, the atmosphere within Malone's was definitely boisterous. It took a moment for Kristin to orient herself before she moved forward.

As she walked just slightly in front of her unofficial guide, Kristin saw that more than a few of the bar's occupants smiled and nodded in his direction. It certainly wasn't in hers, since she had never been here before and, for the most part, hadn't interacted with all that many members of the police force. Only a few faces of those patrons present now were vaguely familiar to her.

“Beer okay with you?” Malloy asked her, bending to get closer to her and posing the question right next to her ear.

Kristin fought back a shiver that came shooting out of nowhere.

“Beer'll be fine,” she answered stoically.

She half turned to see if Malloy had heard her and saw that he was looking at the man behind the bar, holding up two fingers.

“Coming up,” the bartender replied, then proceeded to fill two mugs with the amber liquid, placing them on the counter.

Malloy put several bills on the counter beside the beer mugs. “Cheeseburger still sound all right to you?” he asked Kristin.

That would mean waiting for the cheeseburger to be made, not to mention the time it would take to eat it once it was brought out. None of that pointed to making a quick getaway. But she had to eat something, she reasoned, and although her refrigerator was filled with meals her mother had made and loaded her down with the last time she'd visited home, Kristin felt like having something different.

So, after a minute's worth of mental wavering, she answered him.

“Yes.”

Malloy picked up the two mugs from the counter and handed the first one to her. “And two of your world-famous cheeseburgers, Sal.”

“Gotta be a real small world, then, Detective,” Salvatore noted dryly. “Haven't seen you here,” the bartender went on, addressing his words to Kristin this time.

“There's a reason for that, Sal. It's her first time,” Malloy told him. Then, after slanting a significant look toward Kristin, he added, “here.”

“Let her speak for herself, Cavanaugh,” Sal told him, then asked Kristin, “You can speak for yourself, can't you?”

She shot a reproving look at Malloy before answering the bartender. “Yes, I can. Very well, as a matter of fact.”

“See?” Salvatore said to the man who had ushered her in. “I had a feeling. By the way, since this is your first time here, the first drink's on the house.” So saying, he slid a bill back toward Malloy. “Save it for the next time,” the bartender told him.

It was on the tip of Kristin's tongue to protest that there wasn't going to be a “next time,” but that seemed rude somehow, so she decided to keep those words to herself.

“About the cheeseburgers, Sal?” Malloy prompted patiently.

The smile Salvatore offered was for Kristin alone. “Coming right up. Oh, a word to the wise.” He leaned over the bar, getting closer to her. “Watch yourself with this one, honey.”

She was quick to set the man straight. This was a bar, and she had no doubt that misinformation could take off like wildfire. There was no way she wanted that to happen. “We just work together—temporarily,” Kristin told him in no uncertain terms.

Salvatore merely smiled at the information, obviously discounting it. “Uh-huh. That's what a lot of them say,” he said as he went to fill the order.

“Let's grab a table before they're all gone,” Malloy advised, taking his beer and leading the way.

“Salvatore doesn't have a very high opinion of you, does he?” Kristin noted as she sat down at the table Malloy had staked out.

He shrugged indifferently. “Probably has me confused with one of my cousins.”

Setting her mug down on the table, Kristin looked around at the room. Because of its reputation, the customers in Malone's
were all men and women who were associated, in some capacity, with the police department. A number of them, she was fairly certain, were related to the man who had brought her here.

Turning back toward Malloy, she studied him for a moment before abruptly asking, “Just how does that happen?”

He assumed she was referring to his being confused with one of his cousins. “Well, most of us have the same hair color, more or less, and if you look quick, we've got roughly the same build, give or take a few inches, so if you're only—”

“No,” she said, stopping him before he could really give her an involved answer. “I mean how does it happen that practically every member of your family and your extended family winds up being on the police force?” she asked.

“I'd call it luck,” he told her.

He said the words so effortlessly, he sounded as if he believed them—but then, she also had the impression that he could sell fur coats to people in the middle of an unending heat wave. There was just something about the man that won people over to his side—hence his reputation.

“The city's lucky to have so many dedicated members on their police force,” he went on to tell her. “I'm not talking about myself, but when it comes to Andrew and Brian and Sean, well, they're the personification of dedication. Only reason Andrew ‘retired' was because his wife disappeared and he had five kids to raise—all of whom, by the way, are now on the force.”

“Andrew,” she repeated a little uncertainly. The name was familiar, but she couldn't go beyond that at the moment. She tried to remember which one that was. “Was that—”

“The former chief of police,” Malloy prompted, filling in the void for her. “He's a pretty remarkable guy in a lot of ways. When everyone thought that his wife was dead, he didn't. He refused to give up. It finally turned out that she was in a car accident, one she managed to walk away from—but because of the whole trauma she went through, she got amnesia.

“Uncle Andrew kept working the pieces, looking for clues whenever he could—and he found her eleven years later.” Malloy looked at her, driving his point home. “
That's
what I mean by dedication.”

“Is Malloy bending your ear, recounting all his heroics?”

Kristin turned around to see who was talking to her. At the same time, the owner of the resonant, slightly mocking voice came around to face her. There was an engaging smile on the man's lips as he placed himself between her and the man he'd just referred to.

Holding a mug of beer in his hand, he crouched down at the table, his attention completely focused on her. “Has he told you about the time he dove into the water, fully clothed, to save that little boy who'd gotten dragged out by a riptide?”

Kristin stared at the other man for a moment. At first glance, she could have sworn he and Malloy were identical—but that wasn't possible, was it? Malloy hadn't mentioned anything about having a twin, and she was fairly certain that he would have said something if he had a twin brother.

“I've had one sip of beer. I can't be seeing two of you,” she protested.

“Oh, but you can,” the man bending next to her assured Kristin with a wicked grin. “Because there
are
two of us. I'm the better-looking one, of course. Or should I say the best-looking one?” This time, the question was directed to Malloy.

“You shouldn't be saying either,” Malloy told him matter-of-factly, “because you're not. You're lucky Dad didn't drown you when you were born. Legend has it that they used to do that with the ugly ones.”

“See,” his brother said, his attention back on Kristin, “if he doesn't have a story to fit the occasion, he'll make one up. That's always been a failing of his, that sad sense of competition.” He shook his head, as if he actually felt pity for Malloy.

“You're his brother, aren't you?” she concluded. It wasn't a guess, but she had yet to hear a name, or any indication that they weren't just identical-looking cousins.

Bryce Cavanaugh lifted his mug in a toast to his brother. “Found yourself a bright one this time I see. Good work, little brother.”

She should have gone with her first instincts. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. “He didn't ‘find' me. We just work together.”

Bryce looked around the room, his implication clear. They were here after hours. Under no circumstances could Malone's fit under the heading she was citing.

“Nice work,” he pronounced, the same wicked smile tugging his lips.

Since his brother wasn't leaving, Malloy knew he had to make introductions. “Doc, this annoying character is my brother, Bryce. Say goodbye to the nice lady, Bryce,” he ordered his brother.

Bryce rose back up to his feet, holding his beer mug remarkably steady. “Want to keep her all to yourself, do you, little brother?” Bryce gave her one final once-over. “Can't blame you, but good luck with this crowd,” he advised.

Turning, he saw the bartender approaching with the two cheeseburgers that Malloy had ordered. “Hey, if that's your idea of wining and dining, she's going to bail on you, little brother, and I couldn't blame her.” He bent over to get in closer to Kristin and advised, “Hold out for something better, Doc.”

With that, Bryce made his exit.

“Sorry about that.” Malloy managed to get in the simple words of apology just as Sal placed a plate in front of each of them.

“My cheeseburgers are nothing to apologize for,” Salvatore said, pretending to be indignant.

“I was apologizing for my brother,” Malloy told the older man.

Sal nodded his head knowingly. “Hey, can't pick your family. But if I could, I'd take yours in a heartbeat over some of the other families I've come across. At least yours isn't dysfunctional. You don't get to really appreciate that,” he told Kristin, “until you get to experience it firsthand.

“Okay, I'll leave you to your dinner.” And then the bartender looked at Kristin as he said, “Enjoy.”

The next second, he was hurrying off to get behind the bar again.

Malloy's attention shifted back to the woman he'd brought here. She'd been a pretty good sport so far, but he didn't want to push it if Kristin felt out of place.

“Look, we could get that to go if being here is making you uncomfortable,” he offered.

It was an offer she hadn't expected him to make, and she wondered if he'd said it just for show, or if he actually meant it. If it was the latter—and she had to admit she was leaning toward that—she would have to reevaluate her opinion of Malloy. He wasn't nearly as self-absorbed as she'd first thought.

“Not uncomfortable,” she corrected. “Shell-shocked, maybe, but not uncomfortable.”

“Shell-shocked?” Malloy questioned, not really sure what she meant.

Kristin nodded. “I don't think I've ever seen so many Cavanaughs gathered together in one place before. Takes a bit of getting used to,” she confessed.

For one thing, a great many of them looked more than just passingly similar, both in build and in coloring. It would take being around them for a while to begin to tell them apart—and she had no intention of doing that.

Her comment had Malloy looking around himself, as if seeing his siblings and cousins for the first time. And then he laughed.

“This is nothing. You should see what it's like at one of Andrew's parties. There's nothing but wall-to-wall Cavanaughs then—if you don't count the civilians.”

“The civilians?” The term gave her pause. “You mean people who don't belong to the police force?”

“No, people who don't officially belong to the family—yet,” he added with a smile, thinking of the last two men that had gotten tangled up with his sisters. It was only a matter of time before they, too, were family.

“Is that your way of saying that the people in your family are just irresistible?”

“No, that's my way of just stating facts.” Thinking it safer, he switched topics. “How's your cheeseburger?” He nodded at what was left in her hands.

She hadn't realized that she'd picked the cheeseburger up and had started eating. The problem was that when she was nervous and there was any food around, she ate it. Ate it without really even tasting it sometimes.

Kristin raised her eyes to his, startled by the realization. He made her nervous enough to eat. This was a
real
problem.

He kept watching her. And then she remembered he'd asked her a question. He was probably waiting for some kind of an answer. Being here like this with him made her feel as if her brain was sleepwalking.

She'd graduated high school a year early, graduated from medical school on an accelerated program and she knew for certain that she was at the top of her game when it came to her work. But being around Malloy Cavanaugh scrambled her brain for some reason, making her feel as if she had the IQ of an under-watered potted plant.

Get a grip, Kris. So he's sexy and good-looking, so what? Just skin and genes, no big deal. It's not like he did anything special to get to look that way.

“Good,” she heard herself saying, referring to the cheeseburger. “Actually, better than good.”

Malloy smiled, satisfied. “Told you.”

Well, she couldn't very well deny that, Kristin thought. After all, he had recommended the fare. “Yes, you did.”

Malloy made no effort to hide his pleasure. “Since you're being so accommodating, maybe the next time Andrew throws a party, you'd like to come by to see what it's like for yourself.”

She had heard stories, good-natured, feel-good stories, about the parties thrown by the senior Cavanaugh. And one of the driving forces behind those stories.

“Malloy,” she began pointedly, “I'm not some lone wolf that has to be socialized. I have a large family that is forever trying to fix me up with someone. I love them dearly, but, well, there are times when even the morgue isn't quiet enough for me. Does that make any sense to you?”