The Cavanaugh Code Read online

  Every adult member of the Cavanaugh family had been there, marking time the entire afternoon. Ever since word had gone out that Taylor had been shot while trying to bring in the “leather strip strangler,” as the killer had been dubbed within the department.

  Years of practice had the crusty nurse selecting the most authoritative-looking member of the group and making her appeal to them. In this case, she made a beeline for Andrew Cavanaugh, who had arrived with his wife shortly after Taylor had been taken into surgery.

  “Sir, can’t you pick a spokesperson or a go-between who’ll keep the rest of you informed?” She scanned the sea of concerned faces. “This is really getting to be a mob scene.”

  For a moment, Andrew looked sympathetically at the head nurse, but then he surprised her by shaking his head in response to her question.

  “I could, but it wouldn’t do any good. We’re Taylor McIntyre’s family and I’m afraid that, orders or no orders, nobody’s willing to leave here until we hear something positive.”

  “Family?” the woman echoed, stunned as her eyes swept over the crowd. “All of you?”

  “Every last one,” Andrew assured her. “Except for him.” He nodded toward Laredo, who stood closest to the O.R.’s swinging doors. “And I sincerely doubt you could get him to leave without resorting to dynamite.”

  The woman exhaled loudly, her dark brown eyebrows forming a single, disapproving line above the bridge of her nose.

  “Having you all out here like this—” she waved her hand around “—is a fire hazard and a violation of the fire code,” she insisted.

  People far more adept at it had tried to bully him without success. Andrew merely smiled at her and replied, “I know the fire chief. Trust me, you’ll get a pass this one time.”

  Andrew could only pray that it was this one time. That none of his own would ever wind up here like this again: wounded and in need of emergency surgery. But they all knew that getting shot was a very real part of the job description. Even so, it wasn’t anything any of them had learned how to live with.

  He glanced over toward his brother Brian and Lila, his brother’s wife and Taylor’s mother. He couldn’t remember Lila ever looking quite this pale and drawn, even the time that she herself had been shot and on the verge of death. And her wound had been far more life threatening. But those kinds of facts made no difference to a mother, he thought. Having a child get shot was the basis of nightmares.

  “She’s going to be fine, Lila,” Brian told her. Brian had lost track of how many times he’d said that to his wife since they’d gotten the call from Frank.

  Lila hadn’t taken her eyes off the operating-room doors since they had gotten here. “I know, I know,” she murmured now, grasping her husband’s hand and squeezing it for strength. Her own was icy. “It’s just that things can always go wrong, even in the best of hospitals.” There was a hitch in her voice. “God, I wish they were all insurance claims adjusters—or chefs,” she added, glancing over toward Andrew and noting the way her brother-in-law was looking at her, concern etched on his face.

  “Then they wouldn’t be our kids,” Brian pointed out. “Like it or not, Lila, this is the family business—keeping the citizens of Aurora safe.”

  She exhaled, nodded. “And turning my hair gray while they’re at it.”

  Brian leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’d love you even if all your hair fell out and you were bald,” he told her. And then, giving her another quick kiss, he nodded over toward the figure at the O.R. doors. “I’m going to go talk to Laredo before he gets it into his head to barge into the O.R.”

  Lila fell into place beside him. “I’ll come with you.”

  Her voice was hollow. He was worried about her. “Don’t get any ideas about the O.R.,” Brian warned, only half kidding. Lila wasn’t the type to hang back. It was one of the reasons he loved her the way he did.

  Lila merely nodded.

  Making his way through the crowd over to Laredo it occurred to Brian that the private investigator looked like he was ready to shatter into a hundred brittle pieces. He knew what that felt like. It wasn’t all that many years ago that he had been in the exact same position in this hospital, only it was Lila’s blood that had been on his clothes. The way Taylor’s was now on Laredo’s.

  “We could try to scrounge up a shirt for you, boy,” Brian offered once he was beside Laredo. He nodded at the thirty-four people in the immediate vicinity. “One of us is bound to have a change of clothing in the trunk.”

  Laredo blinked, turning toward Brian. He realized that the older man was talking to him, but none of the words penetrated. He was lost in a fog. And, for the first time since he was eleven, he was scared that he would lose someone.

  Back then, it had been his mother he was terrified of losing. He remembered that he’d hoped against hope, as he rode to the hospital with his grandfather, that the policeman who had called to notify them had gotten it wrong. That the car accident had only been fatal for the other driver, not his mother.

  And now, despite the optimistic prognosis that the admitting E.R. doctor had given him, bitter memories of that long-ago day came rushing back at him. He couldn’t lose Taylor.

  Loving someone was a bitch. But then, he’d already come to that conclusion years ago, at his mother’s funeral.

  How had this even happened? Laredo silently demanded. He’d been so nonchalant, so laid-back, so convinced that he could handle getting close to this sharp-tongued detective because the doors were left open at both ends. Neither of them wanted a commitment. He knew that for a fact. She’d said so.

  So what the hell had happened?

  How had he gone from having a good time to having his gut squeezed so hard, it felt as if he was being cut in two by a buzz saw?

  Shaking his head now, Laredo looked at Brian. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Your shirt,” Brian repeated, pointing to it. “I can scout around to get you something else to wear. Something that’s not quite so—vivid,” he elaborated. The entire front of Laredo’s shirt was covered with Taylor’s blood. Made you wonder just how much blood a person could lose and still remain alive, Brian thought uneasily.

  Glancing down at his chest as if just now becoming aware that Taylor’s blood was smeared over a large part of it, Laredo just shook his head. In some strange way, the bloody shirt made him feel closer to Taylor. “No, thanks, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

  Lila gently placed her hand on his arm. “Maybe you should let one of the doctors check you out,” she suggested.

  Again Laredo shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Really.” If anything, his body felt numb all over. And then he saw the torment in Brian’s eyes. The burden of guilt he felt was almost more than he could bear.

  “I should have never put my gun down,” he told the Chief of D’s. “I should have just gone ahead and shot the bastard. Damn it, why didn’t I?” he upbraided himself angrily.

  Brian placed a compassionate hand on Laredo’s shoulder. He’d managed to get a very cursory explanation from Laredo when he’d first arrived and one of the first responders on the scene had quickly taken down Laredo’s statement, so Brian was aware of the chain of events that had led to finding two dead on the scene and Taylor badly wounded.

  “Because you’re a decent human being who doesn’t just shoot first and ask questions later,” Brian told him. “And that is what gives you one up on the bad guys,” he pointed out.

  “I don’t want to be one up on them,” Laredo said bitterly, looking at the O.R. doors again. Why wasn’t anyone coming out to talk to them? The surgery was taking too long. That couldn’t be good. “I just want her to be all right.”

  “She will be.” Brian made the promise so firmly, it sounded as if his convictions were written in stone. “She will be.”

  Laredo scrubbed his hands over his face. His brain had turned to mush. “I wish I could believe that.”

  At that moment, the operating-room doors finally opene
d and the surgeon walked out. It took less than five seconds for everyone to converge around him.

  Dr. Peter Mathias appeared a little surprised at the number of people he saw.

  “How is she?” Brian’s, Lila’s and Laredo’s voices mingled together as all three asked the same question at precisely the same time.

  “She’s a very lucky young woman. The bullet miraculously bypassed all her vital organs. She’s going to be fine.”

  “Can I see her?” Lila asked, her voice throbbing with eagerness.

  “Can she have visitors?” Brian asked.

  The surgeon addressed the throng of people. “Just one at a time and for only a few minutes. She’s still very groggy. Don’t be surprised if she falls asleep while you’re talking to her.” He smiled as he shook his head. “But then, she woke up the second the surgery was over. Tough breed of kids you’re raising,” he told the petite woman.

  “I know.” Lila’s eyes shone with tears as she took a step forward. And then she stopped to face Laredo. She instinctively knew that this man meant a great deal to her daughter. Apparently more than most. And, judging by the look on Laredo’s face, the feeling was mutual. “Would you like to go in first?” she offered.

  “No, it’s okay,” Laredo assured her. “I just wanted to make sure Taylor was going to pull through. Tell her—tell her—” He realized that he had no idea what message he wanted to pass on. Joyful and miserable at the same time, he’d never felt so damn confused in his life. Seeing Taylor unconscious and bleeding had turned everything inside out. “Tell her I’m glad she’s okay.”

  Laredo was about to weave his way through the crowd in order to leave, but Brian caught him by the arm. Laredo eyed the chief of detectives.

  “Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Brian suggested. And then, lowering his voice, he added, “There are some things you just can’t run from, boy. And you’d be better off if you don’t even try. Trust me.”

  There was no point in arguing. Laredo knew Brian was right. Taking a breath, he nodded. “Thanks.”

  Going through the maze of corridors, which were as confusing as his thoughts, Laredo followed a talkative orderly to the room that Taylor had been taken to after the operation.

  When he entered the single care unit, Laredo saw that Taylor’s eyes were shut.

  “You asleep?” he asked. There was no response. “Guess so.” He began to back out, then stopped. There were things he needed to say, to purge out of his system, and what better time to do it than when she couldn’t really hear him?

  “Damn it, Taylor, you gave me one hell of a scare back there.” And then he laughed shortly. “For more reasons than one, I guess.” He dragged an impatient hand through his hair. “I thought you were going to die. And if you did, everything would just stop. The sun, the world, everything would just go away. At least for me.” He looked at all the IV tubes attached to her, all the monitors documenting every step of her progress. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to get shot and more than that, I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you,” he insisted. “Like I couldn’t breathe in a world that you weren’t in. I’m not supposed to feel things. I promised myself I wasn’t going to feel things.” He glanced out the window. The sky had darkened in anticipation of night. “There’s no room in my world for feelings. All they do is mess everything up and get in the way. I can’t deal with that.”

  He looked back down at her. Her eyes were still closed so he continued. “I can’t deal with worrying, wondering if this is the last time I am going to see you. That’s not me, you hear me? That’s not me.”

  Biting off a curse, he turned to go.

  He hadn’t realized just how closely he’d been standing next to her bed. When he turned to walk out, he found that the bottom of his shirt was caught on something.

  Expecting to see something sticking out from her hospital bed, a jagged edge on the side rails or something like that, Laredo was surprised to discover that the reason he couldn’t leave was because Taylor’s fingers were wrapped around a section of his shirt.

  “Taylor?” he questioned in surprise.

  It was then, as he bent even closer to peer at her, that he saw her eyes flutter open. Her lips moved, but he couldn’t hear what she said.

  “What?” he asked urgently, bending even closer. His ear was almost next to her lips.

  That was when he heard them. The two words she uttered hoarsely.

  “Me, too.”

  Stunned, he straightened. “Taylor?”

  Her fingers became lax, slipping from his shirt, telling him that she had slipped back into unconsciousness.

  He stood watching her for a few moments. And then he left.

  He didn’t come back.

  Not during her hospital stay nor during her convalescence, spent, at their insistence, entirely at her parents’ house.

  In the two weeks since she had been shot, Taylor hadn’t heard even a single word from Laredo. At times, his non-appearance made her sincerely doubt that she had heard what she thought she’d heard that day after her surgery. Those times she chalked up her “memory” to the aftermath of the anesthesia, or maybe to hallucinations.

  At other times, she was certain she had heard him.

  And, in an odd way, the fact that he hadn’t come to see her proved it.

  When she was finally strong enough to move back into her own apartment, her parents, two brothers and sister all came with her. She patiently waited for them all to leave, turning down their offers, tendered one at a time, to spend the first night back with her. The moment they were gone, she sneaked back out to her carport and got in behind the wheel of her car.

  She’d missed her independence. And she was about to do something to surrender it again, she thought. Willingly.

  Starting up her car, Taylor drove over to Laredo’s apartment.

  He wasn’t home.

  Frustrated, she thought about coming back later, then decided to have this out with him once and for all. Making sure no one was around to observe her, she quickly let herself into his apartment, utilizing the skills she’d picked up from her dealings with the less-than-straight-and-narrow people she’d encountered on the street.

  It was past seven o’clock and Laredo was bone-tired when he finally got home. But, bone-weary or not, he was instantly alert the second he put his hand on the doorknob. It gave. He always locked the door when he left.

  Drawing his weapon, Laredo entered the apartment cautiously, prepared to go from room to room, searching for the intruder.

  He didn’t have far to look. Whoever had come in was still there, sitting on a recliner in the living room. He could just make out the outline of someone in the shadows. Adrenaline roaring through his veins, Laredo flipped the switch, bathing the room in light. He blinked.

  Taylor?

  No, it couldn’t be. His imagination had just kicked into overdrive, that’s all.

  Terrific.

  “Damn it,” he muttered angrily, holstering his weapon, “now I’m seeing her.”

  His comment and the sudden influx of light roused Taylor, who’d dozed off waiting for him. The moment she opened her eyes, they blazed.

  “So, you’re not dead,” she declared as if the discovery was news to her. “I guess that means you’re a coward.”

  Ambivalent feelings battled it out inside her as she rose to her feet. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and the other part wanted to throw her hands around his throat for an entirely different reason.

  “I figured those were the only two viable options why you didn’t come back to see me. You were either dead or a coward. I figured the first was a definite possibility. But I never thought that you might actually be a coward.” Disappointment entered her eyes. “I guess I was wrong.”

  Despite the fact that he’d applied the term to himself several times, he took offense when she did it. “I’m not a coward.”

  Doubling her fists and digging them into her hips, Taylor gla
red at him. “Then why didn’t you come back to see me?”

  He did his best to seem distant. It wasn’t easy when all he wanted to do, despite her insults, was to hold her. To bury his face in her hair and inhale the fragrance he knew was there. “The case was over.”

  Taylor stared at him. She felt her heart splintering. Let that be a lesson to her. Falling in love was tantamount to a death wish. “And that’s it?” she heard herself say.

  Damn it, woman, why didn’t you stay away? “What else is there?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Rising on her toes, she was in his face. Some instinct that went deeper than her fear of being hurt said, “Love, maybe.”

  “Love?” He said the word as if he’d never heard it before. As if, even now, it wasn’t eating up his very insides.

  “Yeah, love,” she repeated. She curbed her desire to beat on him with her fists. Why was he doing this to her? To them? “You said you loved me.”

  He shook his head, moving away. He became overly interested in removing his weapon and holster. “You were hallucinating.”

  Taylor moved until she was in front of him again. She wasn’t about to allow him to avoid her. “No, I wasn’t. And the fact of the matter is, I love you, too, you big dumb jerk, and I want to know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “Do about it?” he echoed. Suddenly, he felt a smile struggling to take over his mouth. Taylor loved him? “What do you want me to do about it?” he asked her.

  Taylor shook her head. The ball was in his court and the next move was his. Some things even an independent woman needed a man to do.

  “Oh, no, you first.”

  He took her hand in his, drawing her closer to him. Enfolding her in his arms. Every fiber in his body came alive. Oh, God, but he had missed this. Missed her. The clouds began to lift, disappearing as if they’d never existed. “You love me, too, huh?”