Cavanaugh's Secret Delivery

Dugan had seen Jason attempting to maneuver into the room. He didn’t hold out much hope.

“Right,” Dugan replied sarcastically. “Just do me a favor. Stay home and get well. Fast,” he underscored.

Jason glanced over toward his mother-in-law. “As fast as I can, trust me,” he responded.

“I’ll check back with you in a few days,” Dugan promised.

And with that, he left.

Dugan had some thinking to do, and right now, he was better doing it alone. Granted, he and Jason had been a team for the last year and a half, but now that Jason was home for what looked to be some time, for now he was on his own in this investigation. He was not about to tackle the investigation and break in a new partner.

Granted, he could walk and chew gum at the same time, but at the moment, all his energy was concentrated on unraveling the massive drug connections that were involved here.

Factions of the Juarez Cartel had brought their territory fight against the Sinaloa Cartel up here. He didn’t have time for anything else. Besides, he’d worked alone before and he was more than willing to do it again. It was definitely preferable to putting up with a new partner. Besides, if he needed backup, there were always Patterson and Ryan to call in.

His mind was made up. Until things changed, he was going to be working alone.

* * *

“Cavanaugh, get in here,” Lieutenant Jerry Daniels called out the moment Dugan walked back into the Vice squad room.

He didn’t like the sound of that, Dugan thought. But he couldn’t very well pretend not to have heard the lieutenant and walk out again, not when he was certain that the man had seen him come in.

With a sigh, he braced himself and then walked into the lieutenant’s office.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked.

The words dribbled out of his mouth. He was aware of her the moment he walked in and was doing his best not to stare.

Even though she had her back to him, the tall, stately blonde sitting in the other chair would have been hard to miss. He could only hope that the woman didn’t have anything to do with his assignment. Maybe she was involved in some kind of a goodwill gesture on the lieutenant’s part, or—

She turned around to look at him. Recognition was immediate.

“It’s you.”

Dugan hadn’t even realized that he’d said the words out loud until the lieutenant looked at him, obviously curious.

“You two know each other?” the lieutenant asked uncertainly.

There was no sign of recognition on the woman’s face whatsoever. Either she was one hell of a poker player or she was the victim of a sudden case of amnesia, because it was her, the woman in the alley. He would have known her anywhere. She was the woman he’d helped to give birth...

If he stood here and insisted that he had been there eight weeks ago, hovering over her in that back alley, coaching her as she pushed out her baby daughter, and she didn’t say anything to back him up, he was going to come across like a complete idiot who was on his way to a nervous breakdown.

So, for now, he was going to deny that he knew her—or how.

“No, my mistake, sir,” Dugan said formally. “I thought I recognized your guest here, but I obviously don’t.”

Daniels nodded, accepting the explanation. “All right, then. If you’re through interrupting me, we can get on with this. Since your partner is temporarily out on medical leave and the two of you weren’t getting anywhere in your investigation anyway,” he said crisply, his words cutting like a knife, “I thought that maybe another angle in this investigation might prove useful.”

He was getting that feeling again, Dugan thought. That feeling where the back of his neck began to prickle, getting itchy. It happened every time that he felt something was going wrong.

He told himself he was overreacting.

“And what angle might that be, sir?” he asked in the calmest, most virtuous voice he could summon, even though he could feel his stomach beginning to tie itself up in knots.

The look that Daniels shot him told Dugan that his superior thought his tone was a little too innocent. But because there was someone else in the room and he wanted to come off at his best, Daniels was forced to keep his temper.

So, instead, Daniels just continued with his introduction. “That would be where Ms. O’Keefe would come in.”

“Ms. O’Keefe,” Dugan repeated. Was that finally her real name or was this just another alias? At this point, he couldn’t be sure. “That would be you?” he asked the woman sitting in the other chair.

The woman smiled at him. The smile was polite, distant and showed absolutely no sign of any sort of recognition in any manner, shape or form.

Leaning forward, she extended her hand to him and introduced herself.

“Toni O’Keefe, investigative journalist,” she told him in case he thought she was part of the police department.

Dugan never took his eyes off hers. “Detective Dugan Cavanaugh.”

“Pleased to meet you, Detective Cavanaugh,” Toni said, still smiling that impenetrable smile.

Daniels looked from his detective to the extremely attractive woman in his office. It was obvious that he seemed to be trying to understand if there was something going on here other than just an exchange of introductions.

“Ms. O’Keefe, it turns out, is an expert on the history and dealings of the Juarez drug cartel,” Daniels told him.

“Is that a fact?” Dugan said, pretending that this piece of information was actually interesting to him. “I’m sure it must make for fascinating reading, but right now, I think figuring out what their next move is might be a little more to the point than reading about where they’ve been.”

He began to get up, but the look on the lieutenant’s face had him silently taking his seat again.

“Sorry about that,” the lieutenant apologized to Toni.

Her smile in return was brighter than sunshine. “No offense taken, lieutenant.”

It became clear to Dugan that the lieutenant was attempting to cull favor with the woman.

“Ms. O’Keefe’s father was Anthony O’Keefe,” Daniels told Dugan. The name meant nothing to Dugan, but the lieutenant went on as if it should. “There wasn’t a place in the world that journalist wouldn’t go to, a lead he wouldn’t chase down. He was fearless—”

Dugan was feeling restless and he had no idea just what his part—if any—was in this exchange. “I’m sure he was, lieutenant,” he finally said, gripping the armrests as he got up for a second time, “but I have got work to do—”

That was when the lieutenant hit him with a line he really wasn’t expecting. “And you’ll do it with Ms. O’Keefe.”

Dugan looked at Daniels, dumbfounded. While it was true that the lieutenant wasn’t at the top of his field, he wasn’t exactly an idiot, either. What was the man doing?

“Excuse me, sir?”

Everything in the rule book said that police work was done by members of the police department. Nowhere did it say that they were to defer to a newshound, or whatever it was that this person wanted to call herself—if she was even who she said she was. He was beginning to have his doubts.

There was one thing he did know. “She’s not a police officer, sir.” He looked at Daniels, waiting for the man to relent his position.

“She’s anything I say she is,” Daniels retorted, angry at what he felt was a challenge to his authority. “And right now, she has the clearance to be here and to help us in our investigation, so until such time as I decide it’s no longer beneficial to this department, she is going to be working with you. Have I made myself clear, Detective Cavanaugh?”

“Perfectly,” Dugan replied, doing his best to remain civil rather than to challenge the man.

It wouldn’t do him any good anyway. The lieutenant, for reasons he could only begin to guess at, had made up his mind about including Toni O’Keefe in the case. He’d never been all that close to Daniels, who had only been heading up Vice for the last nine months, so maybe there was something he didn’t know about the man—or this woman, for that matter.

For all he knew, maybe the lieutenant was the father of that baby she’d just had two months ago. Dugan was vaguely aware of the fact that the man was married, but that sort of thing might not have mattered to Daniels in this case.

At any rate, he was not about to waste time trying to figure out what was going on.

Instead, he was just going to get out of here and ditch this woman, whatever her game was, the first chance he got.

“All right,” Daniels was saying. “Are there any questions you might have for me?” He was looking directly at the journalist when he asked the question.

On an absolute basis, Dugan could see why the lieutenant might be acting the way he was. The woman, whoever she really was, was a stunner now that he actually looked at her. There was no other word for it. At approximately five foot seven, with long dark-blond hair and eyes the color of the sky at midday, she was gorgeous enough to catch anyone’s attention and make them forget everything, including the end of their sentence.

But they weren’t just “anyone,” they were members of the police department, and as such, they had a duty to perform, one that came before everything else. Or so he liked to believe.

Didn’t matter. All that mattered now was to get out of this room and get on with what he’d been about to do when the lieutenant had called him in. Granted, he wasn’t getting anywhere with his investigation, but he hadn’t given up yet. He certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere by following around a so-called newshound, no matter what Daniels wanted him to do.

“Just one,” Toni said, her voice sounding remarkably like Marilyn Monroe for someone who wanted to be taken seriously.

“And what’s that?” Daniels asked, turning almost into a schoolboy right before his eyes.

“What do I do about Detective—Cavanaugh, is it?” she asked, looking at Dugan with wide eyes.

Before he could answer her, she had turned her attention back to the lieutenant and continued, “If he suddenly decides to ditch me and take off?”

“He won’t do that,” Daniels answered. “Because there would be consequences to pay if he did that and he knows it.” The lieutenant looked at Dugan pointedly. “Right, Cavanaugh?”

“Right, sir.”

“Well, then, I guess we’ll get out of your hair and get started,” she said brightly.

“Remember,” Daniels said to her as he ushered her out of his office. “Any trouble at all, please don’t hesitate to get back to me.”

“Oh, I won’t,” she told him. Then, looking directly at Dugan, she smiled as she added, “As a matter of fact, Lieutenant Daniels, you can count on it.”

Chapter 4

The moment he was out of the lieutenant’s office, Dugan headed straight for the outer doorway leading out of the squad room. He had no particular destination in mind, other than to get away from the woman he had just been saddled with.

But if he’d meant to leave her behind, he found that she had other ideas about that.

The moment he stopped by the elevator to push the down button, she was right beside him.

He decided to ignore her. But that was before she said what she said.

“You didn’t come to the hospital the way you said you would.”

That stopped him cold. Turning to look at her, he saw a completely different expression on her face. It wasn’t that vacant, cheerful look she’d worn in Daniels’ office. The woman from the alley was back.

“Then you do remember.”

“The most important night of my life?” she asked, surprised that he would think otherwise. “Yes, of course I remember. How could I forget?”

“Then why did you just act as if you didn’t know me back there?” Dugan asked.

She looked around. For the moment, they were alone, so she explained her reasoning. “Because I wanted to do this story and I didn’t think your lieutenant would have put us together if he thought we had a history.”

Dugan didn’t have to think about that. “You’re right, he probably wouldn’t have.” Daniels tended to be the type who always had to be on top of everything, otherwise he was jealous.

Dugan got on the elevator. Toni was quick to follow. He moved back, giving her space—although part of him didn’t want to. The thought of getting closer was extremely appealing. “But we don’t have a history,” he pointed out, pressing for the first floor. “We had about forty minutes together in less than perfect circumstances—Scarlet.”

The elevator doors closed. They were alone but that could change at any moment. She talked quickly. “It’s not Scarlet,” she told him.

“I already know that,” he said, annoyed. There was no point in raising any recriminations. But he did want to know one thing. “Why did you lie to me?”

That was simple enough. “Because I didn’t know you from Adam and for all I knew, you weren’t a cop the way you said you were.”

He supposed that was fair enough. He thought of something else. “And that gun on the passenger seat, that was for protection?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Midnight’s kind of a strange time to be out joyriding,” he told her, skeptically.

“I wasn’t joyriding,” she informed him. “I was driving myself to the hospital. The baby decided she didn’t want to wait any longer and was earlier than anticipated.”

They had arrived on the ground floor, but he didn’t get out right away. “Why didn’t the baby’s father drive you?” he asked.

Toni walked passed him, getting out of the elevator. “I think you’ve used up your allotment of free questions for the time being,” she told him.

“One more question,” he said, holding up his index finger. “What’s your real name?”

So he thought she was lying to the lieutenant. She supposed she had that coming. Besides, even if she was lying, if he was the detective she thought he was, it wouldn’t have taken him much to find out the truth.

“It’s Toni. Toni O’Keefe, just like your lieutenant said,” she answered.

“And just what are you supposed to do?” he asked. “Shadow my every step while I collect intel and try not to get shot by anyone associated with the drug cartels?”

They were in the police station lobby and the person at the reception desk was looking over at them, obviously curious. Toni ignored him.

“You’ve already asked your one question, but I’m feeling magnanimous so, yes, that’s the general idea.”

Dugan frowned. That was just stupid seven ways from sundown, he thought. “And whose bright idea was it for you to play Lois Lane?”

She raised her chin. “Mine.” He started walking, so she quickly fell into place beside him. Or tried to.

“Does this mean that you think you’re Clark Kent?” she asked.

“Hell, no.” He laughed at the idea. “If I’m going to be anybody, it’d be Superman.”

She smiled at him. “Okay, Superman, where do we go first?”

She could smile all she wanted to, but he wasn’t some idiot to be led around by the nose by a beautiful woman. “We’re not going anywhere until you explain to me why I would take you with me.”

“Because your boss said so,” Toni answered innocently.

Too innocently as far as he was concerned. “Not good enough,” he told her. “I answer to a higher boss than Daniels.”

Okay, so he was one of those, she thought. Someone who felt he had a connection to another, out-of-this-world power. “Oh, you mean like—”

“The chief of detectives,” Dugan told her before she could make a guess. “Who also happens to be my uncle, but don’t let that get in your way.”

She’d seen that look before on other people. He was digging in and he wasn’t about to give an inch until she convinced him otherwise. Luckily, this was not her first encounter with a man like this.

“Look, can we go somewhere for a cup of coffee and talk?” she asked him.

“We could,” he said in a voice that told her he wasn’t about to.

She made a quick decision. Leading the way out of the lobby to the police parking lot, she said, “What if I told you that that night you came to my aid, I had the gun with me because I was afraid someone from the cartel was after me?”

“I’d say you were really reaching.” Although, he had to admit, he wasn’t dismissing what she’d just said altogether.

“Then you’d be wrong,” she informed him flatly, daring him to say otherwise.

He did a quick calculation. “Okay, let’s go get that cup of coffee and you see if you can convince me I’m wrong,” he told her, adding, “I’ll drive.”

“Fine with me.” They’d gone down the back stairs and were at the edge of the lot. “Is that your car?” she asked, pointing toward the red Mustang one row over.

“Yes.” He hadn’t been in his car that night when he’d come across her. He’d left the Mustang parked a block away. Dugan look at her quizzically. “How did you know?”

“I remember passing it that night on my way to the hospital. Just how much do you get as a vice detective, exactly?” Toni asked as she stopped by the car.

He wasn’t sure what was going through her head, but he didn’t want her laboring under any misconceptions. “I rebuilt this car before I ever joined the force,” he told her.

“You did this yourself?” she asked, clearly impressed with the end result of his efforts.

“Took me three years.” He opened the doors. “Why?”

“And it runs?” she asked.

“Yes, it runs,” he answered. “I didn’t push it here. Why all the questions?”

“Sorry, occupational habit,” she told him. She got into the car. “But if I had a car like this, I certainly wouldn’t risk driving it around on the job. Don’t people shoot at you?”

“Hardly ever,” he told her.

That didn’t make sense. “Doesn’t Vice attract bad guys?”

She was getting sidetracked, he thought. “You want to go get that cup of coffee and convince me why I should let you come watch me for a couple of days or not?”

“The former,” she told him.

Nodding, he started the car. “By the way, how’s the baby?”

She looked at him, and for the first time, he saw a wary look in her eyes. “Why?”

“No reason. I helped bring her into the world—” he began.

“Technically,” she said, cutting him off.

“And technically,” he continued, “I’d just like to know how she’s doing.”

Toni looked straight ahead of her at the scenery, her expression impassive. “She’s fine.”

Dugan glanced at her profile. “Aren’t you supposed to be with her?”

“What is it with you and all these questions?” she asked. “I’m supposed to be the investigative reporter here, not you.”

He shrugged. “I just like to know who I’m going to be working with—if I’m going to be working with you,” he qualified.

Sighing, Toni looked up at the roof of the car, as if seeking some sort of guidance. “I’m Toni O’Keefe. I write for the San Francisco Times as well as several online blogs. My father was Anthony O’Keefe and he taught me everything I needed to know about what it takes to be a good reporter. He taught me not to give up until I had my story and I never have.” She looked at him now. “I don’t intend to start now.”

“Fair enough,” he answered.

Dugan drove to the next block and pulled into an strip mall. It had an upscale grocery store on one end and a hardware store on the other. The coffee shop, along with a couple of other small restaurants as well as a pizzeria, were in the middle. He parked his car close by and got out.

“Best coffee in the city,” he told her once they reached the coffee shop. He gestured for her to go in first.

After getting their coffees, he took her over to a small indoor table. It was only when she sat down that he asked, “What if I don’t want you to work with me?”

She didn’t even hesitate. It was as if she was expecting this question, even though there had been a seven-minute break in between her statement and his.

“It’ll take me longer to get my story,” she informed him, her eyes meeting his. “But I’ll still get it.”

She seemed sure of herself, he’d give her that. “And if I let you work with me, exactly what is it that you bring to the table besides a great pair of legs?”

“I know people who you would want to know. People who could be very helpful to you. People who know things,” she told him. “On their own, what they know doesn’t amount to very much. But you start to put it all together, you just might have something.”

She was dealing in suppositions and possibilities, Dugan thought. It could all be just a bunch of nothing. But she had guts and a certain style he found himself admiring.

Just as he was about to tell her that he’d take her on—on a trial basis, she surprised him by asking, “You think I have great legs?”

Ah, vanity, you had to love it. “Absolutely. They’re probably the best pair of legs I’ve seen in a long, long time,” he said.

“Oh.” Realizing that she’d allowed herself to be distracted for a moment, Toni murmured, “Thank you.” Then she turned her attention back to what they had been talking about. Clearing her throat, she asked him, “So, do we have a deal?”

He was silent for a moment and it was very obvious that he was looking at her legs. After a moment, Toni drew them farther under the table, shifting so that they were now on the other side of the chair rather than closer to him.

Raising his eyes to her face, he said, “I’ll give you a week, see where it goes. But the first minute I find that it’s not working, or you’ve done something to jeopardize the operation, it’s over.”

“You have an operation?” Toni asked, leaning forward as if she expected him to let her in on a secret. He saw interest flash in her eyes. She seemed to come alive right in front of him. “What is it?” she asked.

“All in due time, O’Keefe,” he told her evasively. “You’ll find out all in due time.”

She watched him for a long moment, as if she was trying to discern just what it was that he had. And then she gave him a knowing look.

“You don’t have anything. You’re just doing this by the seat of your pants, winging it, if you will.” Having caught him, she still wanted verification. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Now who’s asking too many questions?” Dugan countered.

“I am right,” she declared. “That’s okay. There’s no shame in winging it. Some of the best plans are the ones that people have come up with on the fly,” Toni told him with a smugness he should have found irritating—but didn’t.

“Were you always an annoying little girl or did you grow into the role?” he asked.

She grinned and he found it annoyingly endearing. He was going to have to be careful around this one.

“I guess I’ve been like this my whole life,” she told him.

“Huh. Remind me to send your mother a condolence card,” he told her flippantly.

He saw her face cloud over for a moment. “That might prove hard to do,” Toni said as she finished her coffee.

He indicated the cup with his eyes. “Refill?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” she answered.

Dugan heard the distance in her voice. Ordinarily, that would have been enough to make him back off, but for some reason, it didn’t. Instead, he returned to his previous comment about sending her mother condolences. Her expression had changed at that point, he thought. What had he said wrong?

“Why would that be hard to do?” he asked. “Send your mother a condolence card,” he prompted when she said nothing.

She thought about getting up and walking out. She also thought about telling him it was none of his damn business. Neither option really worked for her. At the very least, neither would get her what she wanted and she wanted that story. A huge drug bust as it was happening.

So she told him the truth.

“She died when I was born. She insisted on being with my father while he went after stories no one else would. She had the bad luck of being one of those women who didn’t look pregnant when she was, so nobody told her she shouldn’t fly late in the pregnancy.” Her voice was almost robotic, as if she was reciting a narrative that belonged to someone else. “She went into labor on the flight home. There were complications. She didn’t make it. At least Dad was with her when she—didn’t make it,” she concluded in a voice that was far too cheerful for the subject she was narrating.