Читать книгу Cavanaugh On Call - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 12

Chapter 3

It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later, when he started to leave the squad room himself, that Bryce saw the cell phone still laying on his new partner’s desk. The cell’s black case made it easily blend in with the desktop.

Snatching it up, Bryce quickly hurried out of the squad room and to the elevator to catch up with his new partner. But he was too late. She had already gotten on and went down.

Not bothering to wait for another elevator car to arrive—that would only cost him more time—Bryce opted for the stairs. He fairly flew down the three flights to the ground floor. But as he emerged out of the stairwell, he found the elevator car standing open and empty. Scottie was nowhere to be seen. She must have just left the building.

Just how fast did this woman move?

Not bothering to contemplate the question, Bryce exited the building via the rear entrance. The second he got out, he saw Scottie in the distance. She was just getting into her car. He whistled and called out her name, but she obviously didn’t hear him.

Bryce regarded the phone in his hand. He supposed he could just give her the cell phone tomorrow when she came in. That would be the simplest thing to do. But since cell phones were no longer just phones but the owner’s vital connection to the world, Bryce decided to give it one more try and go after her.

Pocketing the cell, Bryce hurried over to his own vehicle and got into it. After he started the car, he went out the same way he assumed his partner had.

When he left the lot, he just barely managed to catch sight of her silver subcompact making a right at the corner.

Employing his best tailing skills, Bryce followed the silver Honda for several blocks. He made sure to keep one car length behind her. He knew that he could just speed up, flip on his siren and catch up to her, but he had to admit his curiosity had been aroused. Just where else was it that his partner just “had to be” that had caused her to turn down a friendly drink and forget to take her phone?

Keeping her in his sights, Bryce wound up following his new partner beyond the city limits into the next city. Vaguely familiar with the area, he saw that she was driving toward a less than upscale neighborhood.

Just where the hell is she going at this time of day in this area?

By the time he saw Scottie’s car pull into a parking lot, his curiosity was not just aroused but fully engaged. Especially when he looked around and realized she had parked right in front of a homeless shelter.

That did not look like the kind of place someone like Scottie would go to, he thought. At least not unless she was following a lead.

Could that be it? Had she picked up something in all those files he’d given her to review and not said anything to him? Just exactly how much of a Lone Ranger was this woman?

Needing answers, Bryce pulled his car up into the lot and parked several spaces away from hers in the first spot he could find. Shutting off his engine, he sat back and waited.

And waited.

Since it was still light out, it allowed him to absorb the details of the squat, two-story building and its surrounding area. He supposed, as far as homeless shelters went, this one looked to be in decent repair. As he sat, he watched several people enter the building, all looking as if what they needed most was a bath and a container of hope.

Thirty-five minutes later, he saw the door open from the inside and watched as Scottie finally came out. He snapped to attention. She did not look happy, he noted.

Judging from the scowl on her face, she appeared to be frustrated.

“Okay, time for some answers,” Bryce muttered to himself as he got out of his car.

Ever alert, the sudden movement caught her eye and Scottie swung around to face it. When she realized who it was, she frowned. Deeply.

What the hell was he doing here?

Incensed, she strode quickly toward the man and his vehicle.

“Are you following me?” Scottie challenged, not bothering to hide the fact that she was less than happy about the prospect of finding him there, obviously watching her.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am,” Bryce admitted, seeing no reason to hide the fact. “It didn’t start out that way but, well, here we are.”

Didn’t he even have the decency to be embarrassed about being caught?

“Where the hell do you get off, following me?” Scottie demanded. By this point, she was standing next to Cavanaugh, glaring up into his face, her eyes shooting daggers. “Is this some kind of weird hobby of yours? I can’t think of a single reason for you to be following me.”

He appeared completely unfazed by her growing anger even though it looked as if she was going to explode at any moment.

“Can’t you? Try harder,” he coaxed. In response, he saw her anger spike up to another level.

“What is this, a game to you? Are you hazing me? Hazing the newcomer, is that it?” She struggled not to shout the question into his face. “Because I’m not a newcomer. I’ve been on the force for five years and I have—”

Part of him wondered just how angry she could get and just what she would wind up ultimately threatening him with. But if he let her detonate like that, there’d be no coming back. And it wasn’t exactly going to guarantee that they’d work well together. No, he needed to dial this back a bit because they were obviously going to be working together, at least until she transferred again.

She appeared to be on the verge of sputtering.

Reaching into his pocket, Bryce took out her phone and held it aloft before her.

“Have you tried to make a call since you left the precinct?” he asked, effectively cutting off her budding tirade.

Her growing anger came to a screeching halt. Silence suddenly slammed into the moment. She stared, dumbfounded, at the object in his hand.

In a far more subdued voice, Scottie said, “That’s my cell phone.” Confused, she raised her eyes to his again.

“That’s what it is, all right,” he agreed amicably, his expression giving no indication that he had just been on the receiving end of hot words.

She looked confused. “What are you doing with it?”

“Trying to return it to you,” he told her mildly. “You left it on your desk when you walked out and I thought you might need it,” he explained. “I tried to catch up with you but you really move fast for a woman in high heels.” There was a note of amused admiration in his voice.

Scottie said the first thing that came to her mind. “Why didn’t you just call out my name?”

Completely embarrassed, she could almost feel the color rising to her cheeks. She’d practically jumped down his throat and ripped out his tongue, and apparently all he was trying to do was a good deed.

She had to get a grip, Scottie chided herself. Going off the deep end wasn’t going to do Ethan any good and it could terminate her career, commendations or no commendations.

“I did, but I couldn’t get your attention. And I couldn’t very well call or text you, either,” he added with a grin. He handed over the phone to Scottie. “These days, people have their entire lives on their phone and I figured you might want yours back.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. Taking the cell, she tucked it into her messenger bag. “I owe you one,” she tacked on ruefully.

Bryce shrugged. “Have that drink with me at Malone’s and we’ll call it even.”

Malone’s again. She was tempted to ask this bright and upstanding representative of the Cavanaughs why it was so important to him that they have a drink together, but since he had obviously gone out of his way to get her phone to her, instead of questioning him about what was undoubtedly looked upon as a tradition by Cavanaugh and his crew, she decided to just go along with things.

“Okay,” she finally replied. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll have that beer with you.”

Her wording caught his attention. “So then we’ll be even, is that what you mean?”

“I don’t see it that way,” she admitted, “but since you went out of your way like this to reunite me with my phone and, for some reason I don’t understand, having a drink after work means something to you, and since I am in your debt, the answer to your invitation is yes.” Having agreed, she pressed her lips together. “I’ll follow you there.”

She expected Bryce to get into his car, but he remained where he was. “Table or stool?” he wanted to know.

Scottie stared at him. Was this some kind of code? “Excuse me?”

“If you’re following me,” he patiently explained, “that means I’ll get there first. I just wanted to know if you would rather sit at a table or take a stool at the bar?”

A table represented more privacy, a small haven from the general press of bodies and the noise, but a bar stool, while implying brevity to her also left her out in the open and vulnerable. She liked neither choice so she shrugged. “Surprise me.”

He studied her for a moment. Part of him felt she had no intention of showing up, which had him wondering a host of other things he hadn’t quite nailed down yet, but he wasn’t about to stand out there in the parking lot, negotiating details.

“I’ll do my best,” he told her with a wide, inviting smile.

The man obviously thought he was too good-looking for his own good, Scottie decided as she made her way to her car. Reaching it, she turned in his direction and waved her hand, indicting that he could go.

He didn’t. Instead he waited until her vehicle drew closer to his and then he put his car into drive and pulled out of the parking space.

Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw that Scottie was indeed following him.

How long was that going to last? he mused, still not certain he could take her at her word—which in turn would bode rather badly for their fledgling work relationship. A man had to trust his partner, otherwise his life wouldn’t be worth the proverbial plug nickel for long.

Bryce drove slowly, as if he was a sixteen-year-old driver with a brand-new learner’s permit going on a maiden run under his father’s watchful eye. Approaching intersections, if the light had turned yellow, he came to a full stop instead of pressing down harder on the accelerator to make it through before the light went red. Looking back over his life, Bryce couldn’t remember ever driving as slowly as he did tonight.

Consequently, it felt like getting to Malone’s took forever, but finally he found himself pulling into the parking lot.

He parked in the first space he found, then got out quickly and looked over his shoulder to see if his partner was still behind him.

A silver Honda was just pulling into the lot.

“Son of a gun. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” he murmured to himself, grinning. She’d actually followed him, he thought, astonished.

Parking her car, Scottie got out and then wove in and out of the rows of vehicles, making her way toward Malone’s front entrance and, apparently, to Cavanaugh who was just standing there, watching her every move.

A lesser woman would have felt self-conscious, but it had never been about looks for Scottie. Everything else had always been too important for her to waste any time worrying about her appearance or spending hours fussing with her hair. She had a living to earn and a brother to raise.

She’d done progressively better and better with the first part. The second part, not so much, she thought now. She’d showed Ethan’s photo to everyone at the shelter, but no one had seen her brother. The shelter had once been his go-to place when he’d wanted her to find him. Helping out at the shelter in turn seemed to help him and center him.

He was a good guy, she thought. He just needed help to stay the course.

“I thought you were going to find someplace for us to sit,” she said to Bryce as she approached.

“Changed my mind,” he said mildly. “I thought I’d wait since you might have trouble finding me once you were inside.”

“I wouldn’t have any trouble, I’d just follow the light from your aura,” she quipped.

Rather than get his back up, or take offense, Bryce seemed amused by her wisecrack. “And here I thought I’d hidden it so well.”

She wasn’t about to stand out there, talking half the night away. She reached for the door. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“‘Over with’?” he repeated. “This isn’t a root canal, Scottie. It’s just two partners having a drink together, getting to know each other.” Turning from her, he reached for the heavy oak door, opened it and then stood there holding it for her.

She glanced at him over her shoulder just before she crossed the threshold.

“I don’t need to ‘get to know’ you. I know all I need to know about you,” she informed him.

“Probably not,” he countered easily. “And I know that I know next to nothing about you,” he said as he ushered her into the large room.

For a moment Scottie stood just inside the bar. She’d been on the force for five years, but this was her first time inside the bar most of the other officers and detectives frequented.

Depending on the day of the week, Malone’s was full to varying degrees of that word. Tonight, a Wednesday, it was all but teeming with patrons, men and women who made it their life’s business to keep the residents of the city safe and secure in their beds.

Slowly looking around, Scottie saw a number of people she recognized, people she had formerly worked side by side with in Homicide. She saw the surprised looks on several of their faces.

They obviously hadn’t expected to see her there. Well, no more surprised than she was to find herself there, Scottie thought. She promised herself that she would have one bottle of beer with Bryce Cavanaugh—probably not the entire contents—and then, her so-called debt repaid, she’d be free to go.

When she felt the hand on her elbow, her first reaction was to pull away. She actually tried, but the hand just took a tighter hold.

“Easy, Scottie, I’m not trying to take your elbow from you, I’m just guiding you over to that table,” Bryce whispered against her ear.

He did so because the noise level inside Malone’s was steadily increasing and he instinctively knew she wouldn’t want attention drawn to her by having him raise his voice so she could hear him. He had no way of knowing that getting so close to her, whispering so that his breath glided along her neck, would cause Scottie to unexpectedly feel something that had her instantly bracing herself.

But, braced or not, it was too late, Scottie realized. She could feel something stirring as if in automatic response.

Not the time, not the time, Scottie harshly told herself, tamping down the feeling that had no place in her life right now.

Her entire focus had to be on Ethan, on finding him and, if it came to it, saving him, although she was still fervently praying there was some acceptable reason why he wasn’t home, why he wasn’t picking up his cell phone.

A reason that had nothing to do with these break-ins.

“This okay?” Bryce was asking her.

It took her a second to focus and realize what Bryce was saying. They were at a small table for two. It looked to be almost intimate if it wasn’t for the fact that there was so much noise surrounding them. She supposed this was as good as anyplace.

“Sure, why not?” she said with a shrug.

“Good answer,” he remarked with a smile. “What’s your poison?”

Scottie never hesitated. “Pushy partners who won’t back off.”

The corners of his mouth curved in amusement. She was feisty, he thought. He was raised with feisty women. Anything less would have been exceedingly dull. “I meant to drink.”

She gave him the name of a currently popular beer.

“That’s a new one on me. Is that any good?” Bryce asked.

“Better than most. I’m not much of a drinker,” she told him.

Even though there was so much noise building around them, his laugh wasn’t lost in the din. Instead it seemed to undulate right through her, like a shiver waiting to happen.

“I already picked up on that,” Bryce told her. His grin intensified. “See, I’m learning things about you already.” The table was several feet away from the bar itself. “Stay right here,” he requested. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, he made his way to the bar to order their drinks.

Scottie glanced over her shoulder at the front door.