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  Brianna could see that Jackson was on the verge of losing his temper. Placing her hand lightly on his wrist to placate him, she took the lead.

  “No, these bodies didn’t belong to any homeless people looking for shelter. These bodies had been encased in cement,” Brianna told the lawyer.

  Cahill’s complexion turned a serious shade of red as he rose to his feet. “Surely you don’t mean to sit here and accuse my client of having anything to do with such a heinous crime. Bear in mind that I can and will sue you and your whole department for defamation of character if either of you even so much as breathe this outside my office.”

  Not about to be intimidated, Brianna and Jackson were on their feet as well.

  “Before we get into all that ugliness, Mr. Cahill,” Brianna said in a calm voice that seemed to have the exact opposite effect on the attorney, “why don’t you just tell us who approached your client about the sale of the Old Aurora Hotel? You tell us that and we will get out of your hair.”

  “And you can get back to doing whatever it is that lawyers do,” Jackson interjected.

  “Don’t tempt me to show you,” Cahill said as he drew himself up to his full height, which was at least five inches shorter than Jackson. Clearly struggling to keep his temper in check, Cahill turned away from Jackson and said to Brianna, “If you’ll wait right here, I’ll see about getting you that information.”

  With that, the attorney stormed out of his office.

  “Why do you think he didn’t use his computer to get that information?” Jackson asked, looking at the door.

  “Probably because he wanted to get some space between himself and you before he did something that isn’t smiled upon in law school.” She looked at the other detective, more amused than annoyed. “Am I going to have to put a leash on you?”

  “You can try,” Jackson told her. Then, eyeing her for a moment, he added, “Might even be fun to watch you try.”

  For just a second, an image that had nothing to do with the case flashed through her mind. Not the time, she silently lectured.

  “We’re trying to make nice with these people,” Brianna reminded him. “Haven’t you ever heard that it’s easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar? And if you give in to your urge and use a flyswatter,” guessing what was going through Jackson’s mind, “then you haven’t gotten anything at all for your trouble except for a flyswatter full of smashed flies.”

  Jackson gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Anyone ever tell you you’re colorful?”

  “Muldare, I’m serious,” she stressed. “We need these people to cooperate.”

  A hint of disbelief entered his eyes. “Are you telling me that you expect these people to just raise their hands and say, ‘You got me. I did it’?”

  “No, what I’m hoping is that one of these people might say something to help us find out just who decided to use the Old Aurora Hotel to cover up their killing spree.” She sighed as other thoughts occurred to her, things that needed to be checked out. “We’re going to need to get a task force together to help us tackle this.”

  “Safety in numbers?” Jackson asked.

  “Efficiency in numbers,” she countered. “I get the feeling that there are a lot of pieces involved in keeping all this secret, and the more people we have working on this, the better chance we stand of getting some answers before someone in the Aurora family tries to stonewall us.”

  “Then you do think it’s someone in the family,” Jackson asked. His tone made it clear that he already thought that way.

  “Until we get a few more things straightened out, I’m not thinking anything just yet,” she answered.

  Jackson was about to ask her something else when Cahill walked back into the office.

  At the same time, Jackson’s phone began to vibrate.

  Chapter 5

  The R. Thomas Cahill who reentered his office bearing the information that had been requested of him bore little resemblance to the man who had initially greeted the two police detectives. He grudgingly placed the single sheet of paper he’d taken out of the printer on the desk in front of Brianna.

  “All right, here’s the name of the man who spearheaded the authorization to buy the Old Aurora Hotel.” Cahill’s beefy lips puckered into a frown. “I hope this concludes our business.”

  “Our business,” Jackson said, sliding the sheet of paper closer to him and picking it up, “will be concluded when we find out who killed those people entombed in the hotel walls.”

  The lawyer squared his shoulders like a soldier bracing for battle. “And when you find that out, I will expect a full apology for my client from both of you.”

  Brianna took the sheet of paper from her partner and glanced at the name on it. “Thank you for this,” she said politely.

  With that, she and Jackson left the man’s private office and made their way out to the main lobby and the elevators.

  Jackson noticed that she’d folded the paper and put it into her shoulder bag. “The name Harold Harris mean anything to you?” he asked Brianna as they got on the elevator.

  “Not yet,” Brianna answered.

  Jackson reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor. She looked at the way Jackson’s breast pocket was vibrating. Again.

  “Either you’re really excited to be on this elevator with me,” she commented, “or someone is trying to call you.”

  The laugh was dry. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Jackson said, “but it’s my phone.”

  The elevator car arrived on the ground floor and opened its door. Jackson was the first one out, a clear sign, as far as Brianna was concerned, that he was attempting to avoid her—or at least her questions.

  Fat chance, Brianna thought.

  “Don’t you want to answer that?” she asked. She did her best to lengthen her stride in order to catch up to him. Jackson was almost at the car.

  “No.” The single word, prickly and sharp, hung in the air between them as they reached the car.

  “No?” she repeated incredulously. Ringing phones were supposed to be answered. She’d never been able to ignore one herself. “It might be important. You’re not even checking to see who’s calling.”

  And then suddenly Brianna said the first thing that occurred to her. “Girlfriend?”

  It had to be a girlfriend calling him, otherwise why would Muldare be ducking the call like this? Men could be commitment-shy, and ducking calls was all part of that.

  Jackson slanted an impatient look in her direction. “Why don’t you put that inquisitive mind of yours to work on solving this case?” Unlocking the door, he got in on the driver’s side.

  “I can do both,” Brianna replied, getting into the passenger side. “On occasion, I’ve also been known to walk and chew gum at the same time, too.”

  Jackson shook his head. “Knew there was a reason why they promoted you to detective.”

  She saw that his breast pocket was vibrating again. It had stopped for a moment when he’d walked out of the elevator. That made three times, by her count.

  “She’s not giving up,” she pointed out, amused.

  Starting the vehicle, Jackson pulled out of the spot and out onto the main thoroughfare. Impatience gave way to mounting annoyance. He shot Brianna a black look.

  “It’s not a she,” he informed her.

  “Oh.” Even more questions began to fill her head, but she bit them back. Instead, she offered, “Anything I can do to help?”

  “You can stop asking questions,” he snapped.

  The vibrating began again. It was clear that the caller wasn’t letting up until Jackson picked up.

  “If you want to take that, I can get out of the car while you talk.” Muldare just continued driving. “Of course, in order for me to do that, you’re going to have to stop the car,” Brianna pointed out. “I don’t
bounce all that well.”

  Jackson muttered something heated and unintelligible under his breath, then pulled sharply over to the right, temporarily stopping in the bicycle lane.

  As he reached inside his pocket for his cell phone, Brianna opened the passenger door, fully intending to get out the way she’d offered. She was surprised when Jackson caught her arm. Turning to look at him, she saw him shake his head at her even as he answered his phone.

  “I can’t talk now,” he said to whoever was on the other line the moment he answered.

  Even though she didn’t want to eavesdrop, Brianna heard someone pleading, “You’ve gotta get me out of here, Jack. Please!”

  “I’ll call you back later,” Jackson answered, measuring out each word as if there was a bitter taste to it.

  Whoever was on the other end was saying something in response when Jackson terminated the call. Shoving the cell phone back into his pocket, he started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  Brianna gave it a couple of seconds, but he clearly wasn’t about to say anything about the call. So she made an offer.

  “Look, why don’t we go back to the precinct? You drop me off there so I can get my car, or at least another car if Del Campo isn’t back, and I’ll follow up with Harold Harris while you do what you need to do,” she concluded, waving at his phone.

  “I am doing what I need to do,” Jackson informed her tersely. “I’m going with you to talk to this Harold Harris and find out if he knew anything that made him get the city to buy that old hotel.”

  “I can go there alone,” Brianna stressed.

  Making a right, Jackson glared at her for one fleeting moment. “The chief of Ds put us together on this for a reason. I’ve got to believe it’s not just so you can nag me.”

  “I’m not nagging,” Brianna cried defensively. “But if you want nagging, Muldare, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  Looking at his profile, she noticed his jaw hardening. He really did have chiseled features, she thought—and right now, a heart to match.

  “You’re not going to ask me who that was?” he asked, referring to his phone call. He was surprised she wasn’t grilling him.

  Naturally curious, it took everything for her to suppress the urge to ask, but out loud she said, “Only if you want to tell me.”

  “I don’t,” he told her flatly.

  “Okay then,” she replied, trying her best to sound as if she was all right with that arrangement.

  Brianna looked out the window, biting her lower lip. Telling herself she was doing the right thing.

  She lasted for three and a half blocks.

  “All right, damn it, who was that?” she asked.

  “What happened to ‘only if you want to tell me’?” Jackson asked.

  “I lied,” she admitted. “I want you to tell me. Who was that on the phone?”

  Jackson sighed, keeping his eyes on the road, not trusting himself to look at her right now. He was an exceptionally private person, and part of him was all set to dig in.

  But oddly enough, there was a small part that wanted the release of sharing this burden, even if logically he knew there was nothing she could do or say about it that would help in the slightest.

  Maybe he was losing it.

  “My brother.” The two words came out grudgingly.

  Now that Muldare had opened the door, more questions just came pouring out. “Where is he? Why does he want you to get him out?”

  Jackson shook his head. He should have known better than to say anything, he thought. “Damn, I really miss those clamshell phones.” If he’d had one of those, chances were good that she wouldn’t have been able to overhear Jimmy’s pleading.

  Brianna shifted in her seat to face him squarely. “Jackson, I’m serious. Drop me off at the station. If you need to go to your brother, do it,” she urged.

  Damn it, he should have just kept his mouth shut. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

  “He’s your brother and he obviously needs you,” she said. “I’m part of a big family and I know all about being there for a sibling. I’ve been on both sides of that—needing and being needed.”

  For a moment he debated telling her that none of this was her business, but he knew O’Bannon was only concerned. It wasn’t something he was used to, but apparently it was a big thing in the world she lived in.

  For just a split second, he wondered what it must have been like, growing up in her world. A sliver of envy pricked him.

  Giving in to the inevitable—and maybe hoping for a little peace—he told her, “My brother’s an addict and he’s in rehab. He doesn’t want to be there, but that’s where he’s going to stay until he can get through a day without numbing the hell out of his mind with any drug he can get his hands on.”

  His voice was hard. It came from hardening himself in order not to give in to his brother’s begging and pleading. It also came from turning a deaf ear to the scores of promises he’d heard from Jimmy, promises to “do better next time.”

  “I put him there and he’s going to stay there until he’s kicked his habit. Any more questions?” he snapped.

  “Just one,” Brianna answered quietly, holding up an index finger. When he looked at her, she said, “Why the hell have you been carrying this bottled up inside you without telling me?”

  He would have glared at her if he didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road. “What the hell are you talking about? They just put us together on this case.”

  That was just an excuse and he knew it, she thought. “But this isn’t our first time working together.” When he said nothing in response, Brianna tried again, reminding him, “We’ve gone out for drinks.”

  “I went out for a drink,” he corrected. “You just happened to be there.” As expected, she’d found a way to strew rose petals all over and cloud the issue, Jackson thought, annoyed with himself for saying anything to her.

  Brianna sighed. “You really make it hard to be your friend.”

  Where the hell had that come from? “I’m not asking you to be my friend,” he told her.

  “Too bad,” she responded with a laugh. “You’re stuck with me.”

  Again, he knew she meant well, but this was a doomed venture on her part. Didn’t she understand that? Because he did like her in his own way, he tried to make her understand. “Look, O’Bannon, I’m not a touchy-feely type person—”

  Brianna raised her hands as if to underscore her statement. “No touching, no feeling, just talking.”

  They stopped at a light, and this time he did look at her. The woman was impossible. “Do you know if they have any openings in the K-9 unit?”

  He saw her smile spread; somehow it seemed to take over her entire expression, like a morning sunrise.

  “Sorry, you’re out of luck. No openings. Don’t worry,” she told him kindly. “You don’t have to talk to me right now.”

  “Thank God.”

  You are not going to put me off, Jackson Muldare, no matter how hard you try, she silently vowed.

  “But I’m here when you need me.”

  Pressing down on the accelerator, Jackson just barely made it through a yellow light before it turned red. “Does the phrase when hell freezes over mean anything to you, O’Bannon?”

  “Nope.” Brianna suddenly turned in her seat, looking to her right as he drove by the police station. “Hey!” she cried, raising her voice. “You just passed the precinct, Muldare.”

  “I know,” he answered, unfazed. “We’re going to city hall.”

  “But—” Her protest froze and then she sighed, sinking back into her seat. “You know, you’re as stubborn as I am.”

  Although he never liked being compared to anyone or anything, he had to admit this one had some merit. And, oddly enough, it didn’t bother him.

  “I guess that’
s what makes this interesting,” he responded.

  * * *

  Harold Harris was on the premises and available when Jackson and Brianna asked to speak with him. Moreover, they found that he was more than happy to see them and answer their questions.

  According to the councilman, he and some of his fellow council members thought that the Old Aurora Hotel’s time had come and gone. Legend had it that the building had been constructed to resemble a sprawling Southern mansion in homage to George Aurora’s place of birth, a small town just outside Raleigh, North Carolina. Because it had weathered badly and looked as if it was ready to fall apart, Harris felt that the land it was standing on could be put to far better use.

  That was when, he proudly told them, the salesman in him took over.

  “Have you seen the view from there?” he asked. “You have to go see it,” he urged. “It’s absolutely breathtaking. Homes here are selling at a premium right now—faster than you can blink,” he stressed. “These proposed homes will be scooped up before the builder even has the land fully graded and mapped out to start work.”

  “Is that why you urged the council to put a bid on the hotel?” Brianna asked. “Because of the view?”

  The man bobbed his head up and down, sun-bleached hair falling into his eyes. “I have an eye for things like that,” he told them and then couldn’t help confiding, “I really can’t wait for the ground-breaking ceremony.”

  Seeing the man’s eagerness, she almost hated bursting his bubble. Unlike Aurora’s lawyer, this man actually seemed genuine to her.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer than you’ve anticipated,” Brianna told him.

  Confusion entered the man’s gray eyes. “I don’t understand,” Harris said, his wide smile fading a little around the edges. “Why’s that? The demolition crew started early this morning.”

  Brianna was surprised that word about the stoppage hadn’t reached the council yet. She was about to tell him when Jackson spared her the ordeal.