Cavanaugh’s Woman (6 page)

Later, looking back, she didn’t recall thinking, only reacting. Years of being her father’s daughter, ready for anything, had honed her reflexes to a razor-fine point.

She threw the car into drive and aimed it directly for the man Shaw and Reese were pursuing.

Running at top speed, Shaw’s eyes widened as he saw the car whizzing by him. The fact that it was his registered a moment later.

Pumping hard behind him, Reese’s mouth dropped opened. “Hey, isn’t that—?”

“Damn it. What the hell does she think she’s doing?” By the time the question was out, he had his answer.

Driving over the curb, Moira had brought the cream-colored Crown Victoria up on the sidewalk. For a second, it looked as if she were going to run the man down, but she brought the vehicle to a halt, effectively pinning the terrified quarry up against the wall.

“Hey, nicely done!” Reese called out to her as he and Shaw rushed to catch up.

Shaw saw no reason to praise her. What she did was reckless and dangerous. If the shop owner had had a gun, she could have gotten herself killed.

“What do you—? How did you—?” He couldn’t even frame a question. They went spilling into each other, shoved forward by indignation, surprise and anger.

Excited, Moira didn’t even hear Shaw at first. She leaped out of the car to take a closer look at the man she’d caught. Her heart was pounding. It had been a long time since she’d felt this alive. In a way, she supposed she missed the life she’d once led with her father and sister.

“She’s crazy!” the store owner screamed. “Why don’t you arrest her?”

“We’re too busy with you,” Reese told him, taking out his cuffs.

His hand on her shoulder, Shaw spun Moira around to face him. The look on her face was sheer exhilaration and for a second, his indignation faded. But it was back the next moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Helping.”

Shaw looked accusingly at Reese. The latter had turned the store owner toward the wall and was snapping the handcuffs shut. “Did you leave the keys in the car?”

Reese shook his head. “Hey, man, you drove, remember?”

Shaw felt his pocket. The keys were still there. Then how did she—?

Moira read the question in his eyes. “I hot-wired it. It was hot,” she explained. “I didn’t know how long you’d be and I was trying to get the windows down before I wound up roasting to death.” She shrugged innocently. “I figured you wouldn’t want me getting out of the car.”

It took a lot of willpower to keep his temper under control. “I didn’t want you racing the car, either.”

Why was he so annoyed? She’d helped, not hindered. “I saw you running after someone. He was getting away.”

“I would have caught him.”

She smiled up at him, satisfied with herself. “My way was faster.”

He was going to get rid of her if it was the last thing he did. “Your way was damn dangerous.”

Handcuffed, the suspect was craning his neck as Reese tried to get him into the back seat. Outrage and fear had temporarily been replaced by curiosity. The man looked at Reese. “Hey, is that—?”

“Moira McCormick,” Moira said. Despite the circumstances, she added, “Nice to meet you.”

Shaw roughly took hold of her arm, escorting Moira back into the car. “You can sign autographs later,” he growled.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said to her several minutes later. She was in the front seat with him. Reese was in the back with the suspect, who hadn’t stopped talking to her since he realized who she was.

Moira turned back around and looked at Shaw. She’d obeyed him and remained in the car, and still managed to help out. What more did he want? “I thought it worked out just fine.”

“You thought wrong. I told you to stay in the car.”

“At no time did my body leave the car,” she protested. “Not until after you were on the scene.”

He knew it was useless to argue with her. She’d just infuriate him. Shaw blew out a breath, trying to collect himself.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Reese asked, admiration in his voice.

She knew he was referring to hot-wiring. Her father had taught both her and her sister how. It was something he thought might be useful to them someday. He’d only stolen one car during his career. It had belonged to a man who’d gotten rich off the misfortune of others. Her father had called it “payback.” Eventually, the car had been donated to a charity.

“Research,” she lied. Moira exchanged looks with Shaw. It became evident to him that although she’d told him about her father and the life they’d led in the shadow of the wrong side of the law, it seemed to be something that she didn’t want to become common knowledge.

Or maybe she’d put him on this morning and what she’d just told Reese was the truth. Maybe she’d been so busy pretending that she no longer knew what was true and what wasn’t.

None of which mattered to him.

All that mattered was that he had to get this shapely, attractive monkey off his back and the sooner he did that, the better.

“So, are you going to interrogate him?” she asked. When he made no answer, she tried again. “C’mon, Cavanaugh, I didn’t hurt the car.”

“That’s not the point. You could have gotten hurt—”

“Ah, you care.”

He glared at her. “About the city getting sued because you want to play cops and robbers—yes, I care.”

She seemed to accept his explanation. “Don’t worry. I already signed a disclaimer. I get hurt—nobody’s liable but me.”

Somehow, that didn’t seem to comfort him the way he thought it should.

Chapter Six

“Y
ou probably won’t let me in there with you, will you?”

Moira looked from Shaw to Reese, knowing it was a dead issue.

Though he and Reese were partners, Shaw was definitely the leader here, and she knew he would never bend the rules to allow her inside the interrogation room while they questioned Ramsey Jenkins, the porno shop owner she’d helped capture.

Shaw tossed his jacket over the back of his chair and rolled up his sleeves. It was hot inside the precinct and it would get a lot hotter in the room where the suspect was being kept. “Give the lady a prize, Reese. She guessed the right answer.”

Reese bit his lower lip as Moira looked at him again. “Cavanaugh…?”

“No.” The answer was firm and nonnegotiable.

“Don’t you have a little room behind the one you use for interrogations? You know, one of those places with a one-way mirror? So I can see but not be seen?” she tacked on hopefully. “I’m not some police groupie, Shaw. I need to study your technique.” She glanced toward Reese for backup. She wasn’t disappointed.

“C’mon, Cavanaugh. What’s the harm in letting her watch?”

Shaw gave him a dirty look. He didn’t like being observed, didn’t like anything about this overall assignment, but he knew he was on the losing side. She’d probably go to the chief, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He looked down at her. “Okay, but no tapping on the window, no sudden movements, no indication that you’re there. Understand?”

She held up her hand, as if she was taking an oath. “I won’t even breathe.”

“That,” he muttered under his breath, “is too much to hope for.”

“C’mon,” Reese urged, beckoning to her. “I’ll show you where to go.”

The look on Shaw’s face, she noticed, indicated that he would have liked to tell her
exactly
where to go. She hurried after Reese.

Moira stood, fascinated, as she watched Shaw patiently, quietly, firmly grill the porno shop owner. It wasn’t like in the movies. She wasn’t sure just what she’d expected. Maybe a game of good cop–bad cop, or maybe she’d thought that Shaw would flex his prowess over the man, threaten him with bodily harm then give him just enough of a taste of it to have him babbling out the information.

But Shaw went about his grilling methodically. He was a man with a goal in mind and would not stop until that goal was reached. Reese was there solely for reinforcement. The longer the questioning continued, the more uneasy Jenkins became.

In the end, faced with the threat of being sent to prison, Jenkins finally talked. If convicted, this would have marked his third offense, guaranteeing him a life behind bars. Begging them to say it hadn’t come from him, Jenkins gave them the name of his connection.

They had another piece of the puzzle.

Highly impressed, Moira came out of the adjoining room just as Shaw emerged. “That was fantastic.”

He gestured to another detective to take the prisoner to a holding cell. It had gone well in there. Sometimes it didn’t. Still there was no reason to celebrate yet.

Shaw merely shrugged, his attention for the most part focused on the information Jenkins had given them. But it was hard not to take note of the brilliant smile on Moira’s face. A smile that somehow found its way into his gut.

He was tired and wired at the same time and in no condition to be around a sparkling Hollywood player. Almost in self-defense, he glanced at his watch. “It’s late. Isn’t it about time you went back to your sound stage, or big party, or wherever it is that you go?”

She was being dismissed, but took no offense since she was getting used to his abrupt behavior. “Actually, there is a party,” she told him. “A precast party. My producer is throwing it for the cast and crew.” She looked at him pointedly. “That includes the technical advisers.”

So that was the title they’d slapped on him and Reese. He raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself. “You want my advice?”

Moira had a strong hunch she knew what it would be. She grinned at him. “Not at this moment, no. But I’ll let you know when the time comes. Anyway, you and Reese are invited.” She nodded toward Reese. “So’s your chief, if he’d like to come.”

Shaw didn’t know about his uncle, but he knew that he didn’t want to go. As he began to turn her down, Reese, apparently suddenly blessed with clairvoyance, grabbed his arm and pulled him aside.

“C’mon,” he entreated, lowering his voice to just below a stage whisper. “What harm would it do? Think of it as a few hours to unwind. We could all use that,” Reese urged, his eyes dancing hopefully back and forth across Shaw’s face. “How many chances do we have to go to a real Hollywood-type party?”

“Nobody’s stopping you.” Shaw pulled his arm away. “What do you need me for?”

“Backup,” Reese stressed. “Besides, it’s not me she’s looking at.”

Yes, he was aware that there had been eye contact. Aware, too, that there might have been a few other things going on, all without any nurturing on his part. He supposed it could have been referred to by some as chemistry. The kind that blew up labs, not the kind that created useful, beneficial things for mankind. “She’s absorbing the part.”

Reese laughed shortly. “She’s absorbing you,” he corrected, then temporarily lost his endless supply of patience. “What the hell’s the matter with you? If I had a chance to be with a beautiful woman like that—”

“Yeah, we all know what you’d do.” The answer was all over Reese’s love-struck face.

Shaw frowned, thinking. Maybe he was attaching too much importance to all of this. Yes, it was an inconvenience and a pain in the butt, but in a couple of weeks, it would all be forgotten. By then the crew would have packed up and gone back to Los Angeles and the confines of a welcoming studio, leaving behind only their money to remind anyone that they had passed through—and some celluloid once the movie was released.

He supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to go. Especially if his uncle was attending. He knew without being told that Brian would expect him to put in an appearance at the party if he was asked. And he’d been asked.

With a shrug that was the sheer definition of careless, Shaw raised his voice and looked back at Moira. “All right. Where and when?”

She crossed to him, pleased. “Wow, I didn’t expect it to be this easy.” She beamed at Reese, knowing he’d been behind it. “Jonathan’s reserved the Green Ballroom at the hotel.”

The name meant nothing to him. Was it supposed to? “Jonathan?”

“Jonathan Daley.” She realized that still had no meaning for him. “Sorry. He’s the producer.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Moira dragged her hand through her hair. She wanted a bath—a long, lovely, hot bath—but she’d settle for a shower. Time was short. “Because I just did what I swore I’d never been guilty of doing.” She saw his blank expression. Any second now, it would be chased away by impatience. “Name-dropping,” she explained. “It’s just that it’s hard not to….”

Moira let her voice trail off, knowing there was no good way to end this sentence. There were times she wished she had her father’s glib tongue. Matthew McCormick could always explain his way out of things.

That was just the problem. The more time that went by, the more certain she became that her father was using up his supply of luck and that someday, when it ran out, terrible things would happen to him. But he’d only laugh and tease her about worrying like an old woman. Eventually, not wanting to be there for the fateful day when it finally found him, she’d left.

Right now, she decided to concentrate on her minor victory. “Would you like me to send a car for you?” She looked from one man to the other.

Reese nodded, but Shaw wasn’t so easily led along. “Why? Something wrong with my car?”

Why did he always gravitate to the negative side? “No. I just thought you might want to impress someone with a limo.”

“There’s no one to impress,” he told her flatly.

Okay, so maybe she was digging. He obviously didn’t live with anyone, but that didn’t mean that Mr. Sunshine wasn’t involved with someone. She cocked her head. “No one?”

“No one.”

She tried to sound innocent as she regained ground. “Then you’ll be driving in on your own?”

“Been driving since I was sixteen. See no reason to suddenly stop now just because I’ve got an invitation to a crew party.”

“Precast party,” she corrected automatically. “Then I’ll see you there.” She made an effort to look at both of them, and even to smile at Reese, but her attention was clearly on the taller of the two men. “Oh—” she realized that she’d told them the where, but not the when “—it’s at eight.”

“We’ll be there with bells on,” Reese promised. Turning away as Moira left, he let out a low whistle. “Man, do I wish I was you right now.”

“Why?” He began to head back to his desk. There was a report to file before he could leave tonight. “You’re invited, too. The only reason I’m going is because you want me to.”

Reese trailed after him, a dreamy, puppy-dog expression on his face. “Yeah, but she didn’t look at me the way she looked at you.”

In the squad room, Shaw headed straight for his desk, avoiding making eye contact. He wasn’t in the mood for questions. “And what way would that be?”

“Like she’s got a yen for corn beef and you’re the last corn-beef sandwich on the shelf.”

Sinking down in his seat, he looked at his partner incredulously. “Where the hell do you get these thoughts from?”

Reese loosened his tie. “Doesn’t matter where I get them from. What matters is that she looks like she’s got a thing for you.”

Shaw snorted. “She’s an actress. They get a ‘thing’ for anyone.”

The explanation obviously did not seem to deter Reese. “Maybe, but she got it for you.”

He found that his patience was severely limited tonight. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and if you keep on talking, I’m not going.”

Reese held his hands up in surrender. For all of five seconds, his computer commanded his attention. And then he looked up across the two desks that were butted up against each other. “Hey, Cavanaugh?”

“Now what?” Raising his eyes, Shaw gave him his most malevolent look.

“What are you gonna be wearing tonight?”

He clamped down on the temptation to use a ripe curse. Instead “Clothes” was all he said as he looked back down at his work, shaking his head.

Two hours later, on his way out the door of his small apartment, Shaw paused for a moment, his eyes on the wall phone.

He debated all of six seconds.

And then he was dialing, tapping out the familiar numbers to his sister Callie’s apartment rather than his father’s house.

She picked up on the third ring. One more and he knew he would have gotten the answering machine, which would have been his cue to hang up. Other than using them for undercover work, he had no patience for recording devices.

“Callie?”

“Shaw? What’s wrong?”

He knew she was asking because he rarely called.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know how it was going. With Dad and—her,” he tacked on.

They both knew who he was referring to. “Why don’t you call him yourself?”

“Because I’m calling you, that’s why.”

Callie’s voice indicated that she took no offense at his attitude. “You know, big brother, someday you’re going to find out you can’t just carry around your emotions in a neatly labeled package. Dad would appreciate hearing from you. He needs all the moral support he can get right now.”

If he didn’t like to be watched, he liked being analyzed even less, even by a woman he dearly loved. “Why? He was right. He found her. What’s the problem?”

Callie’s sigh almost screamed,
Boy, men can be so dumb.
“You know why. The ‘why’ is the reason you’re calling and asking how things were going. The problem is that she’s not whole. Because something happened to her to make her drive off that bridge.”

“They had an argument.”

“Lots of people have arguments. They don’t drive off bridges into the river. Mom wasn’t some flighty woman. She was stable.”

He could only guess at the direction her mind was heading. “And you think if all that, the argument and her storming out of the house, was out in the open, she’d have her memory back?”

Callie sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell,” she admitted. “I just know this is eating Dad up. He has her but he doesn’t have her. Until her memory comes back, she’s like some stranger with Mom’s face.”

He noticed that Callie had said “until.” There was a hopeful ring in her voice. Though grounded in common sense, she was definitely the more upbeat of the two of them. He envied her that. That and a whole lot more, including her happiness. He hoped that this time it would really work out for her.

“If anyone can make her remember, it’s Dad.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if she was debating something. He certainly hadn’t said anything very profound, he thought. Just as he was about say goodbye and hang up, he heard her.

“Shaw?”

“What?”

“Come by the house tomorrow.”

He knew she meant that it would be a show of support. Their father had always been there for them, no matter what. Even when Rayne gave him so much trouble, he never turned his back on her, never gave up. And he needed them all now in his corner.

It was the right thing to do and he knew it. “Yeah.” And then he hung up.

He had a party hanging over his head like some double-edged sword, and if he didn’t show up, he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Reese. With a sigh, he left.

He felt like an outsider looking in.

The sensation descended over him the moment he walked in. The festively decorated ballroom was filled with people, all of whom seemed to know one another. Which left him out.

When faced with what he knew had been a similar situation at the precinct, Moira had waltzed into the middle of it and held court. But she was outgoing, gregarious. He wasn’t; he never had been. They were a world apart in every way.

Looking around, he saw Reese. His partner was clearly in his element and loving it. He was in the middle of a group of very young, very nubile-looking women. Scanning the faces, Shaw found that he didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d hardly recognized Moira at first.