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  The noise level in the house was almost overwhelming, but it faded into the background as she made eye contact with the one man she’d been hoping to find here.

  He was already on his feet, crossing to her in long strides, his face a wreath of smiles that simultaneously made her happy and weepy.

  “You came,” Brian said, his voice low. She heard him despite the din.

  “I came,” Janelle whispered.

  The next moment, she was enveloped in her father’s strong arms. Arms, she recalled, that had created a safe haven for her more than once when she was growing up.

  When she glanced over toward her uncle, still locked in her father’s embrace, she saw that Andrew was unabashedly wiping away tears with the heel of his hand. The man had never been ashamed of his emotions.

  “So,” he said loudly after clearing his throat. “Anyone tell me what goes with sentiment?”

  “Syrup,” Callie, his oldest daughter, cheerfully declared. The next moment, she was lifting up a serving platter and offering it to the newest face at their table. “Pancakes, Sawyer?”

  “Let the man have some strong coffee first,” Clay, her younger brother and Teri’s twin, cut in. “We’re not exactly the easiest bunch to take first thing in the morning.”

  “If he can put up with Janelle first thing in the morning—or any time,” Dax told his cousin, “then everything else is a cakewalk.”

  “Sit, boy,” Andrew instructed, his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, gently but firmly urging him down. “Let me fill your plate.”

  Before Sawyer could point out that he had no plate to fill, one was placed in front of him by a slender blonde who appeared to be somewhat older than the other women in the room. By the way she looked at Andrew, he judged that she had to be the man’s wife.

  “Now you can fill it,” Rose Cavanaugh told her husband after smiling at Sawyer.

  Same old family, Janelle thought, taking a seat next to Sawyer. She’d lost count how many times they’d all gone through this with other strangers who’d joined the group. Most of those, she recalled, had gone on to become permanent fixtures at the gatherings, appreciating them even more than those who’d been born into the family.

  That wasn’t the case with Sawyer, she reminded herself. His position here was just temporary. Maybe even a one-time thing.

  Even as she told herself that, a sadness materialized out of nowhere, settling into the pit of her stomach.

  She was just hungry, nothing more. Janelle helped herself to a serving of scrambled eggs and toast. She slanted a glance toward Sawyer. Maybe it was time she threw him a lifeline.

  “Okay, let me run through the names for you,” she offered. “You already know my uncle Andrew and my dad.” Both men nodded at him. She twisted around in her seat to look at the woman who had just given them both silverware. “That lovely lady is my aunt Rose. My brother, Dax and his wife, Brenda,” she said, gesturing toward the couple in the middle of the next table. “And these are my cousins.” She rattled off each of their names, plus the names of their spouses and children, as she indicated each in turn in quick, staccato fashion.

  Sawyer felt as if he were swimming in alphabet soup long before she was finished.

  The woman in the middle of the next table smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he was going through. “Don’t worry,” she told him with a wink. “There’s no quiz at the end. This time,” she qualified.

  “Hey, no flirting with Janelle’s bodyguard,” Dax protested, pretending to be indignant with his wife. “It’ll throw him off his game.”

  “And being with Janelle won’t?” Teri wanted to know.

  “You’ve got a point,” Dax acknowledged with a nod. He turned to Brenda. “Pass the powdered sugar, honey.”

  On her way back to the coffee urn, Rose paused by Sawyer’s chair and inclined her head. “Yes, they’re always like this,” she confided in a pseudo-low voice. “When they’re here. Out in the field is another story.” Straightening, she smiled at the lot of them. There was no missing the pride in her eyes. If Andrew was the patriarch, then she was the matriarch, if belatedly so. The position was not taken lightly.

  He was surprised that Rose Cavanaugh had stopped to say anything to him. Was she just assuming what his reaction to the others was, or was his expression not as stony or unreadable as he would have liked?

  Since this was a command performance before the former police chief, he’d intended to simply eat and keep to himself. But he discovered that it wasn’t only the best laid plans of mice and men that went astray, but also those belonging to former undercover policemen. Despite the fact that a great deal of conversation already flew back and forth across the tables, questions were fired at him, as well. Questions that continued to hang in the air until he answered them.

  Against his will, Sawyer found himself drawn into first the peripheral conversations, then into the main discussions, as well. Before he knew it, despite an active attempt at resistance, he was embedded in the threads of a typical Cavanaugh breakfast. And discovered that it really wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Well, you survived,” Janelle said as they walked back to their respective vehicles a little more than an hour later.

  Fishing out his car keys, he spared her a glance. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d held her breath more than once during the course of the morning, watching him more closely than she’d ever watched anyone else at the table before. It had been worse than the first time she’d pleaded a case in court. She’d even felt nervous for him, although he’d looked just fine throughout the whole thing.

  “No, I knew you would.” In fact, Sawyer could handle himself well anywhere. “But I think you might have had your doubts.”

  He shrugged carelessly as they made their way around to the front driveway. “Hell of a lot of noise going on in there.” He paused to give her a significant look. “And prying.”

  “They’re cops,” she reminded him. “They ask questions. And theirs were meant in the best possible way,” she added, absolving her family in one giant swoop. “We Cavanaughs care about the people we come across.” The second the words were out, they echoed back to her. Janelle smiled.

  Sawyer paused to look at her for a long, scrutinizing moment. “You over it?”

  “Over what?”

  He nodded back toward the house. Someone was watching them. Someone short. The curtain in the living room was pushed back, and he could make out a small figure at the window. Definitely one of the kids. “Being mad because you were kept in the dark.”

  Janelle laughed as she opened the door on the driver’s side. “I suppose I am at that.” Her face softened as a fond expression came over it. “They’re a hard bunch to stay mad at.” About to leave, she hesitated, then turned to look at him. Awkward or not, this had to be said, had to be put out in the open. “Look, I don’t want you to think that this was anything more than just bringing you over because Uncle Andrew asked me to. You’re not being absorbed, or indoctrinated. They’re a bunch of nice people. Getting to know them is a good thing. It’s a big police department. You can never tell when you might need one of them.”

  God, was that really her, stumbling over her own tongue like that? She’d always been so good, so succinct at stating what she thought. Now she sounded like someone having trouble rubbing two sentences together.

  With effort, Janelle tried again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that last night came with no strings.”

  “Good to know,” he said. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, her assurances did not make him feel better. If anything, they made him feel more restless. He paused, about to get into his car, which was parked behind hers. “What if, just for the sake of argument…” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t even put the situation into hypothetical terms without feeling the urge to back away.

  And yet, when he did back away, there was this urge to retrace his steps again.

  Was this what
going insane was like?

  Janelle stared at him, suddenly reading between the lines. Fear and joy raced through her. So why did she feel like smiling?

  “Should the need arise, strings can be obtained at the checkout counter,” she informed him flippantly and followed it up with a grin. “I’ll see you around, Detective,” she said as she got in behind the steering wheel.

  She saw him in her rearview mirror all the way to the county building. He followed close enough behind so that no other vehicle got between them.

  Sawyer was taking the job he no longer had seriously, and it should have annoyed her. Should have, but didn’t. She admitted she liked not being alone.

  But the moment she turned into the parking lot where she worked, Janelle lost sight of Sawyer’s dark blue sports car. Had he just escorted her in and then taken off?

  Janelle vaguely recalled that Sawyer had said something about taking some time off, but she hadn’t thought he was really serious. Apparently he was, she thought as she scanned the wide open area.

  The man was full of surprises, she mused, locking her car. And none so great as the one she’d received last night. It had been a double whammy. He’d surprised her and she, in turn, had surprised herself.

  Thinking it over, she decided that a prolonged abstinence didn’t have anything to do with her reaction to Sawyer. Sawyer had something to do with her reaction to Sawyer.

  The very thought of him now sent warm, tingling shivers all up and down her spine, stealing away her very breath.

  Idiot, she thought. Bringing him to her uncle’s table notwithstanding, if anyone had ever struck her as definitely not the settling down type, it was Detective Sawyer Boone. He was even more of a loner than her cousin Teri’s husband, Hawk, had been when they’d first met him. And that was saying a great deal.

  Hurrying toward the front steps of the building, Janelle almost went flying as her heel caught on something. Her hand flew out and she stopped her fall by bracing herself on the hood of a black Honda.

  Well, that had been fun, she thought darkly.

  Janelle checked her shoe to make sure the heel wasn’t broken. Still bracing herself against the hood of the Honda, she looked down as she put her shoe back on. She expected, if anything, to find a rock or a broken piece of asphalt. The summer had been hot, causing the asphalt to become more pliable. Potholes had resulted. Several pockmarked the lot with their accompanying loose pieces of asphalt.

  But what she saw, almost kicked under the car she was leaning on, was neither a rock nor a piece of asphalt. It was a cell phone.

  Chapter 14

  Janelle stooped down to pick up the cell phone. It was a little dirty, but didn’t appear to be damaged. Undoubtedly it had fallen out of someone’s purse or pocket as they’d gotten out of the car and then been kicked around at least once.

  Somebody was going to be very unhappy to find their phone was missing. She knew more than a few people who felt as if their entire life was stored on the tiny microchip that resided within their phones. She hadn’t gotten to that stage yet, but she would be lost without her PDA.

  Flipping the cell phone open, Janelle checked to see if the unit was still operational, or if she’d accidentally kicked the life right out of it.

  The screen lit up like the face of a child who was happy to see her.

  Relieved, she slipped the cell phone into her oversize black purse that on occasion also doubled as a briefcase. Okay, anything else involving the phone was going to have to be put on hold for a little while. Right now, she was running late and not at all comfortable about waltzing in after nine. Being late for any reason went against her own rules.

  When she stepped off the elevator, she found that no one was around to notice she was late. Woods was in a meeting where he’d been since eight, according to his secretary, and Kleinmann was still on the East Coast. The other assistants to the A.D.A. were all going about their business, noses to grindstones and arms laden with files, oblivious to anything but their own personal misery.

  Janelle lost no time in getting down to work and spent the first hour working on other cases. But as the second hour began its rotation around the clock, Janelle’s attention started shifting toward the case that was no longer her concern. She started by doing some checking into Anthony Wayne’s background, wading through transcripts and any public and not-so-public records she could get her hands on.

  The fact that she was checking out her half brother was not lost on her. Everything about the case screamed conflict of interest.

  It also, she realized, screamed quick.

  Less than half a day had gone by and she already had the distinct impression that the prosecuting side of the case was so eager for conviction that corners were slashed and shortcuts were raced across. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the latest report she’d pulled up on the screen. Something just didn’t feel right. She was beginning to believe that Marco had been straight with her.

  Just as Marco had maintained, his son’s record, until the raid that had led to Tony’s arrest, had been spotless. A straight-A premed student on his way to becoming a doctor, Anthony Wayne could not have had dealings further away from his father’s world if he’d tried.

  Or if Marco had tried.

  Rocking in her chair, she laced her fingers together, thinking. If the younger Wayne was so blameless, where had the drugs come from? They had found over a kilo’s worth divided up into small nickel bags. The entire stash had been hidden under the mattress in the spare bedroom. Had they been planted as Marco maintained? Or was Anthony, with his heretofore exemplary life, the perfect cover for drug dealing? And why had there been a raid just then, with all of this just sitting there, waiting to be found?

  Janelle shook her head. Thinking. Seemed like a hell of a coincidence from where she was sitting. And although those did occur in life, she was leaning more toward conspiracy.

  She glanced at the name of the arresting officer and decided that maybe it was time for her to have a little chat of her own with Detective Conway.

  Grabbing her purse, she left a quick note on her desk that she was taking a couple of hours personal time, in case Woods ever came looking for her.

  As she made her way out into the corridor, she bumped into Mariel. Ordinarily the picture of cheerfulness, the dark-haired assistant looked distraught and somewhat lost. She mumbled a belated, “Excuse me,” and started to walk away.

  Placing her hand on the other woman’s shoulder, Janelle stopped her. “Is something wrong, Mariel?” She looked as if she’d just lost three cases in a row and was up for performance review.

  Mariel only shook her head. The smile that appeared on her lips had been forced there.

  “Just overworked,” she answered, then added, “and I think I’m coming down with something,” following it up with a sniffle.

  Because of the intense, long hours that were often required, Janelle had learned not too far into the job that it paid to keep an assortment of pharmaceutical products on hand.

  “Top side drawer in my desk,” Janelle instructed, pointing toward her office. “Help yourself to anything you need.”

  A spasmodic smile came and went swiftly. “Thanks.” With a nod, Mariel hurried off.

  In the opposite direction, Janelle noted. She was about to point that out, then thought better of it. The assistant didn’t look as if she wanted to be corrected and Janelle had a detective to see.

  Twenty minutes later, she walked out of the elevator onto the fourth floor of the police department. Janelle had a general idea where Narcotics was located and headed in that direction.

  Her mouth dropped open when she discovered Sawyer there ahead of her. Talking to the man she had come to see.

  When Sawyer turned to look over his shoulder and saw her standing there, he didn’t appear to be the least surprised. Instead, he merely nodded, as if he’d expected her all along.

  From the sound of it, he was wrapping his conversation up.

  “Thank
s for the information, Conway,” he said, getting to his feet.

  The other man grunted in response, then turned back to typing something on his keyboard. If he was aware of her presence behind him, Conway gave no indication.

  Janelle was about to say something to the other detective, but Sawyer quickly commandeered her arm and led her away from the small cubicle where Detective James Conway was sitting. Very deliberately, he directed her back the way she had just entered.

  “Excuse me?” she demanded, pulling her arm free. Just because they’d slept together didn’t give Sawyer the right to dictate what she did and where she went. “I need to talk to him.”

  He took hold of her arm again to hold her in place. “You don’t have to.” Janelle’s eyes widened at his gall. “I already did.”

  And what, he was the last word in everything? “Maybe I want to ask him something you didn’t cover.”

  He looked at her knowingly. “Like why he and the others raided Anthony Wayne’s off-campus apartment on the exact day that they did?”

  Some of her fire went out, but at least he wasn’t gloating. “All right, maybe you did ask him the same question I was going to.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Great minds—”

  “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

  His eyes held hers for a moment. Damn but she had gotten to him. Attempts to shake off her effects didn’t seem to be working. He didn’t want to get gotten to.

  So why are you still hanging around?

  He had no answer to give the annoying little voice inside his head. So for now, he ignored it. “Which of us is the broken clock?”

  “Never mind that, what did Conway say about why he picked that day to raid Tony Wayne?”

  “Just about what I expected him to say,” Sawyer told her. He stretched his words out, knowing that it set her off. He had no idea why he liked watching the fire come into her eyes, but he did. “That his information had come via an anonymous tip. It went along with what Sam Martinez said.”