Читать книгу Cavanaugh's Secret Delivery - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 13

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.

Tossing her head, she asked him, “So, do I really get to work with you, like you said, or are you going to make my life more complicated by making me shadow you for every piece of information I want?”

For just a moment, Dugan understood what she was going through and what she had to be feeling. “My mother died, too.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I asked you,” she informed him almost coldly.

He didn’t know if she was trying to push him away or if he had managed to embarrass her somehow just now by cracking a wall he hadn’t realized she had up around her. For that matter, he reminded himself, he really didn’t know if she was on the level. For all he knew, she could have just made that whole thing up to get on his good side because she knew that his mother had died when he was young and highly impressionable. After all, his life wasn’t exactly a secret.

“No,” he replied, his eyes on hers. “It isn’t.”

“So do I?” she asked him again. “Do I get to work with you for a week while you make up your mind whether or not having me around is beneficial to your trying to break up the Juarez drug cartel?” she asked him again.

“And if I said no, you really would wind up shadowing me?” he asked.

There was no hesitation on her part. “Yes,” she answered.

“Well, then, I’d better save us both some grief and just say yes,” he told her. “Temporarily,” he added before she could say anything to either thank him—or tell him that he had made a wise choice.

Either way, he felt he had no other option. And he had learned a long time ago that it was better to have the source of his problem with him at all times than somewhere behind him.

There was less chance of being shot that way.