Cavanaugh Vanguard Page 2

  “Malloy’s wife, Kristin,” Sean answered.

  Brian’s smile was grim. “This is turning out to be a regular family affair,” he commented, glancing toward the young woman. “Put the word out,” he told his brother. “We need every available ME reporting to the morgue. I need these bodies identified yesterday,” Brian instructed.

  Sean had his cell phone in his hand. “Already on it,” he responded.

  “Keep me apprised,” Brian said, leaving. It was unclear if he was addressing Sean or Brianna.

  Brianna slowly scanned the area again, even though she had been here for more than half an hour. She and Francisco Del Campo, another homicide detective, had been the first to answer the frantic call that had come in from a patrol officer.

  The latter had been the first responder on the scene. Fresh out of the academy, Officer Hal Jacobs had contaminated the crime scene by throwing up after viewing the first decomposing body. When Brianna arrived, she had hustled Jacobs out and had someone get the pale officer a glass of water as more bodies were being discovered.

  A noise coming from behind her had Brianna whirling around, one hand on her weapon, ready for anything.

  Coming forward, Jackson raised his hands. “If you don’t want me here, all you have to do is say so,” he told Brianna.

  Brianna dropped her hand to her side. Although they were in different divisions, she and Jackson had previously worked together on a couple of cases. As far as partners went, he was intelligent and driven. He just wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but according to the job description, that wasn’t a prerequisite.

  “Nice of you to join the party, Detective Muldare,” she said.

  Rather than explain why he’d arrived late, Jackson merely said, “I got held up in traffic. What are we looking at?”

  “The stuff nightmares are made of,” she told him. “You ever been here before?”

  “You mean to the hotel?” he asked. When she nodded, he told her, “I didn’t grow up in Aurora. And I’m guessing the place would have been a little out of my price range if I had grown up here.”

  Brianna looked around, trying to envision the hotel the way it used to be in what she’d heard referred to as its “glory days.” It made her sad to see the way time had ravaged it.

  “It was a hell of a showplace in its time. I saw pictures in a magazine once,” she explained. “Aurora was celebrating its fortieth anniversary of being incorporated as a city and the magazine article was a then-and-now kind of retrospective. I really doubt that anyone would have ever suspected that this highly regarded showplace was where someone was hiding bodies.”

  “Hiding bodies?” Jackson echoed.

  Brianna nodded, repeating what she’d heard from the nauseated first responder. “They were in the walls,” she told him. “The wrecking ball uncovered them.”

  The macabre revelation had Jackson staring at her in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

  Brianna turned toward the major crimes detective. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of his reaction. The tall, dark-haired man seemed woefully uninformed about the nature of the crime scene he had entered. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

  “Cohen just said to get my butt out here,” Jackson answered. “Look, I’m with major crimes,” he pointed out even though he knew that she knew that. “And while this is all pretty gruesome, I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here.” He looked at Brianna. “Way I see it, since you’re with homicide, this case is right up your alley.”

  “You’ve been with the police department for how long now?” she asked him, her voice almost mild and deceptively conversational.

  He didn’t see what that had to do with anything, but he answered her. “Going on six years now.”

  “Six years,” she repeated, as if she was rolling the information over in her head. “Don’t take much of an interest in the city’s history, do you?”

  Jackson looked at the woman. Like so many other members of the police department he had run into, she was part of the Cavanaugh family, a legend throughout the precinct. Cavanaughs, he’d found, set the bar high, each and every one of them.

  “Not particularly,” he answered. “Why?”

  “Well, if you did know a little of the city’s history,” she told him, “you’d know that initially this was all farmland that belonged to one family. The Aurora family.”

  “All right,” he allowed, still waiting to hear where she was going with all this.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Brianna saw the ME, Kristin Alberghetti-Cavanaugh, wheeling another one of the newly unearthed victims out of the hotel. She stepped to one side, never missing a beat of the story she was telling Jackson.

  “George Aurora was the original patriarch of the family. He started taking the money the family made selling their crops and investing it. The investments were solid, so he decided to use some of the profits to build a small town, which he named after himself.

  “Everything in and around Aurora belonged to the Aurora family. Including the Aurora Hotel,” she pointed out, adding, “which, it turns out, Winston Aurora, George’s oldest grandson, recently sold to the city so that Aurora could continue to expand.”

  “Winston’s the one who throws all those fund-raisers, raising money to build that new children’s hospital and new schools for the city, right?” Jackson said, recalling things that he’d heard.

  “One and the same,” Brianna confirmed. “No one wants to risk getting on the wrong side of the man or his two brothers if they don’t have to, so I’m told that major crimes was called in to treat this whole thing—and the Aurora family—with kid gloves.”

  The strained smile on her face as she concluded told Jackson just what she thought of that idea, seeing as how he was the one the major crimes lieutenant had chosen to represent the division.

  Jackson read between the lines. “Are you saying you think Mr. Fund-Raiser is responsible for the dead bodies?”

  “I’m saying we’re supposed to look at everyone else first before we even so much as think of pointing a finger at him or anyone else in his family. Having major crimes join homicide in the investigation is supposed to be the police department’s way of being thorough,” Brianna told him. “That means crossing every single t and dotting every single i. And if I recall correctly from the last couple of times you and I worked together, you are not exactly known as Mr. Diplomacy, so maybe I should be the one to talk to the Auroras.”

  “Are we going to be questioning the Auroras first?” Jackson asked.

  “No, not in the way you mean,” Brianna answered, thinking he was referring to interrogating the family. “We’re just going to inform them of what the construction crew discovered when they started knocking down the walls.”

  Brianna paused for a moment. She’d been told more than once that she had a habit of taking over and leaping into the heart of things before others around her had a chance to digest what was happening. Since she and Muldare were going to be working together on this, she knew she had to do her best not to come on as strong as she had a tendency to. “Unless you have a different idea on the matter,” she added tactfully.

  Jackson lifted his wide shoulders then let them fall again in a careless shrug. “My only thought is that maybe we should hold off talking to Mr. Fund-Raiser or anyone in his family until we have a final body count.”

  She supposed that Jackson did have a point, but there was a problem with this idea. She glanced over toward where Sean and his team were working.

  “I’m not sure how long that would take,” she said honestly. “The building only has three stories, but it’s unusually wide. Consequently, there are a lot of walls to take into account.”

  “You really think there are more bodies in them?” Jackson questioned.

  She wouldn’t have thought that there were any bodies in the walls, but that certainly hadn�
�t turned out to be the case.

  “You think there aren’t?” Brianna countered.

  “Sounds a little unbelievable, don’t you think?” Jackson asked, getting out of the way as another gurney with a body bag was being wheeled out.

  “I think finding a single body buried inside a hotel wall is unbelievable, but according to what I’ve been told, they’ve uncovered six,” Brianna answered.

  “Seven,” Sean called out.

  Brianna and Jackson both turned in the man’s direction.

  “Seven?” Brianna asked, stunned.

  Sean nodded. “Destiny just told me that the team pulled out another body,” he replied, referring to his top CSI investigator, his son Logan’s wife.

  Brianna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the information and ignore the effect the discovery was having on her stomach.

  What kind of a monster had they just stumbled across? And, more important, was that monster still walking among them, or was this the work of someone who had vanished?

  Best-case scenario was that the killer was dead. But what if the killer wasn’t dead and hadn’t vanished? What if the killer had just moved his desire to kill to another location?

  “You okay?” Jackson asked. He saw his new partner shiver. It definitely wasn’t cold in the room, despite the fact that there was one wall missing.

  “I will be,” Brianna answered with zeal. “Once we find the SOB responsible for this.”

  Chapter 2

  Jackson silently agreed with the detective he had been temporarily partnered with. “Then I guess we’d better get started,” he told Brianna.

  Nodding, she turned toward Francisco Del Campo. Transferred to homicide a little over six months ago, the personable detective was still learning the ropes and had no problem taking orders from a woman.

  “What would you like me to do?” Del Campo asked.

  “Find out exactly when the hotel closed its doors and see if you can get your hands on the hotel’s guest ledger up to that point,” Brianna said. She felt that at least it was a start.

  Del Campo furrowed his brow. “How far back do you want to go?”

  “Since we don’t know how many bodies are in the walls and how long they’ve been there, why don’t you see how far back you can go,” Jackson told the younger man.

  Rather than getting right on it, Del Campo shifted his eyes toward Brianna, waiting for her confirmation. He knew Brianna. He didn’t know Jackson.

  She nodded. “What he said,” she told Del Campo, hoping that, at least for the time being, they could all work harmoniously. “I also want you to get all the construction workers’ names. We’ll need to question them if they saw anything unusual. Right now, we don’t know where those bodies came from or who put them there.”

  “You got it.” Del Campo was already on his way out of the partially gutted dining room.

  The moment Del Campo left, Jackson turned toward the woman on his left. “You know, this is going to go a lot easier if I don’t need your stamp of approval every time I say something.”

  Brianna smiled at the major crimes detective. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  Jackson pressed his lips together and kept his comment to himself.

  They made their way out of the hotel, weaving around various members of the police department and crime scene investigators. Once outside, Brianna paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

  The air smelled sweeter away from the combined odors of death and dust. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jackson looking at her. “You want to drive?” she asked as she started to walk again.

  “You don’t want to arm wrestle for it?” he asked, feigning surprise.

  “Normally I’d consider it,” she deadpanned. “But Del Campo and I came here together, and he’s going to need a way to get back to the precinct.”

  “So I get to do the honors by default, is that it?” Jackson guessed.

  She’d started walking toward where she assumed Jackson had left his unmarked vehicle but she stopped now. The man definitely had a chip on his shoulder. She didn’t remember him being this way the last time they’d worked together.

  “Look, if you’re going to want to debate every single move, this case is going to go a lot slower than either one of us—or the chief of Ds—is going to be happy about,” she told him. And then, getting into the car, she got down to the real question. “Do you have a problem working with me this time, Muldare?”

  She wasn’t the one responsible for his mood. That had been set in motion before he’d got the call to come out here. Jackson knew he shouldn’t be taking it out on her or subjecting her to any fallout.

  “No,” Jackson answered. And then he tagged on a word he hoped would cover the situation. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Brianna said. “Just don’t do it.” And then she got down to the business at hand. “If we’re going to be delivering bad news to one of Aurora’s three leading citizens, we need to present a united front. Otherwise Winston Aurora might get the idea we’re accusing him of being responsible for these bodies.”

  “What if he is?” Jackson asked.

  That was a giant leap, but it still could be true, she thought.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it—and brace ourselves for all hell breaking loose just for asking.” She glanced at him as she buckled up. “What are your thoughts on this?”

  Jackson shrugged, buckling up himself. “Don’t have any.”

  “None?” she questioned incredulously. That didn’t seem possible—or logical.

  “Nope,” he said as casually as if he was deciding how many eggs he wanted for breakfast. “That might taint my view of the case and interfere with the way I investigate it.”

  Listening to him, Brianna could only shake her head. “You are a strange bird, Jackson Muldare.”

  He laughed drily. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Why aren’t you starting the car?” she asked.

  “Because you haven’t told me where we’ll find this guy,” Jackson answered. “Where do you want to go?”

  She’d forgotten about that. “We’ll start at Winston Aurora’s home. If he’s attending some board meeting or some other business-related activity, his wife or someone at the house should be able to tell us where he is.” She looked at Jackson expectantly. “You do know where Winston Aurora lives, right?”

  Jackson didn’t answer her. Instead, he started up the white sedan and pulled out of the parking lot.

  The lot was still crowded with vehicles belonging to the officers who had responded to the call, as well as those of the construction workers who had been told to stop work on the demolition immediately. Del Campo was still taking down the latter group’s names, Brianna noted, seeing the detective talking to a group of hard hats.

  “Oh damn,” Brianna said.

  “Is that a general, all-inclusive ‘oh damn,’ or are you referring to something specific?” Jackson asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Brianna twisted around in her seat, peering out the rear window. There was a news van pulling up toward the cluster of police cars.

  “That’s a ‘make sure that news van doesn’t suddenly decide to follow you’ oh damn,” she answered. She twisted forward again. “The last thing we need or want is someone from the Fourth Estate thinking we’re going to be talking to Winston Aurora or anyone in his family.”

  “But we are,” Jackson answered matter-of-factly.

  She wondered if he was putting her on or if he just viewed situations in a linear fashion. For the sake of argument, she explained it to him.

  “We want to keep a lid on this and control the story for as long as we can until we know if there is a story involving the Auroras.”

  “We already know there are bodies,” Jackson pointed out.

&nb
sp; “Yes, but what we don’t know is if the Auroras’ connection ends with the fact that the hotel was built by their grandfather and bears their name—or if one of them is more involved than that,” she told Jackson. “If the media gets hold of this before we’re ready, there’ll be so much speculation going on, we won’t be able to do our jobs properly.”

  Jackson said nothing.

  She found it annoying and felt as if she was talking to herself.

  Suddenly, the detective deviated from the road he was on. The next moment he was pulling his vehicle into a drive-through lane threading around a fast-food restaurant called Sloppy Joes.

  “What are you doing?” Brianna demanded.

  Jackson spared her a quick glance before inching the car forward. They were behind a Hummer 3 that was just barely keeping between the lines.

  “Making sure that news van doesn’t think we’re onto something and follow us—haven’t you been paying attention to what you just said?” he asked innocently.

  For a split second, she wanted to punch him, but she refrained, thinking she’d do more damage to her fist than to his really muscular shoulder.

  Instead, Brianna laughed. “I forgot.” As she recalled, Muldare had an unorthodox method of operation. “You take some getting used to.”

  Jackson made no comment on her observation. “Since we’re here, you want to get something?”

  Food was the last thing on her mind. Brianna twisted around in her seat again. There was no sign of the news van. It hadn’t followed them after all.

  Sitting forward again, she told Jackson, “Coffee, black.”

  His expression remained stoic. “That stuff’ll rot out your gut,” he told her.

  Unfazed by the image that created, Brianna said, “Haven’t you heard? Coffee is supposed to help keep dementia at bay.”

  “That’s this week’s theory,” he said, unimpressed. “Next week they’ll rescind that theory and replace it with something else.”

  Brianna shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I like coffee. It keeps me going.”