Marie Ferrarella - Mission - Cavanaugh Baby

Once there, she parked in a completely different area than she ordinarily did when she returned the vehicle for the night. Rather than the hidden side lot, she turned her vehicle in toward the much larger front lot. The front entrance was closer to the elevator she needed to use to get to the crime scene unit’s lab. The entire facility was located in the basement of the building.

“We’re here,” she announced to the terrier as she opened the van’s rear door.

The second she did, the red-pawed terrier tried to bolt out of his temporary prison. Acting on instinct, Ashley made a quick grab for the animal’s dark green collar. Her quick reflexes caught the dog off guard and he wound up tripping over his own paws, falling backward.

She winced as she felt the poor dog’s unfortunate jolt telegraph itself through her arm.

“Now you see, if you just took it easy, that wouldn’t happen. Are you all right?” she asked, taking the small animal into her arms. He resisted at first, then seemed to surrender again, leaning against her and taking some solace from her warmth. “See? Much better, right?”

“You always talk to things that can’t answer you?”

Startled, she swung around only to find the detective she’d left behind in the apartment walking up to her. How had he gotten here so fast, and why was he so intent on harassing her?

“Number one, it’s a dog—a living, breathing entity—not a thing,” she pointed out. “And number two, there are ways to communicate other than talking.”

“He’s communicating with you via mental telepathy now?” Shane asked, not bothering to hide the amused, mocking note in his voice.

“Like with people,” she stubbornly pointed out, “a dog’s actions tell me a great deal about what he’s feeling.”

This was growing more and more unbelievable to him. Was this petite fireball really serious?

“So now we’re dealing with a dog’s feelings?” he asked sarcastically.

Instead of answering the detective’s question, Ashley had one of her own to ask him. “Don’t you have some suspect to harass, or some clues to follow up on? I wouldn’t want to take you away from your important work, Detective.”

“Right now, the best clues might very well be on that ill-tempered dog you’re holding on to,” he informed her glibly. And then he became serious. “Why don’t you drop off the mutt in the lab downstairs, and then I’ll take your official statement?”

She had no intention of complying since she’d already decided on another path. “Number one, Albert’s not a mutt, he’s a Jack Russell terrier.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged it off. To him, dogs came in just three varieties. Small dogs, medium dogs and large dogs.

“Number two, I have an alternate suggestion for you. How about I take Albert to the lab, have them do their tests and then, when they’re finished with him, I’ll come back and talk to you afterward.”

“Are you just trying to be difficult?” he asked.

The way she saw it, she was doing her best to be cooperative. “I promised Albert that I wouldn’t leave him alone at the lab.” And then she smiled innocently at Shane. “Making things difficult for you is just an added bonus.”

“You promised Albert,” he repeated incredulously, fairly certain—although, given who he was dealing with, he wasn’t positive—that she had to be kidding.

“Yes. And I don’t want him not to trust me,” she told him. She could tell by his expression what Cavanaugh thought of that, but then, the detective really wasn’t her first concern. The traumatized dog was. “If I break my word, Albert will just become that much harder to deal with.”

He stared at her, stunned. “Do you actually believe what you are saying?”

So now he was accusing her of making things up as she went along? “Of course I do,” she answered firmly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because,” he responded, “for one thing, you make that mutt sound as if he had more intelligence than the average person.”

“I told you, he’s not a mutt,” she informed him tersely. “He’s a Jack Russell terrier, and as for having more intelligence than the average person, he probably does.” She punctuated her statement with a toss of her head. This man obviously knew nothing about dogs. “Jack Russell terriers are extremely intelligent canines. They’re also rather temperamental—” she shot Shane an accusing look “—also like some people I know.”

Shane let her walk to the building entrance ahead of him, then reached around her to hold the door open for her. He saw the suspicious look that immediately crossed her face.

The woman probably thought he was trying to make a move on her.

“Don’t worry, I’m just holding the door open for you, Officer St. James, nothing else. Speaking of being trusting, you’re not, are you?” Shane asked, his eyes meeting hers.

Ashley met his scrutinizing glance head-on just before she walked into the main lobby. “No, I’m not.”

He took a guess at the most logical reason she’d be distrusting. “What happened, you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you?”

There was no way she was about to let him know a single personal thing about her life. “I just haven’t found people in general to be trustworthy,” she replied coolly. “That’s why I like animals better. They don’t lie.”

There was something about the way she said it that caught Shane’s attention. He found his curiosity aroused. “Who lied to you, St. James?”

Her eyes narrowed. He could tell that it took everything she had not to tell him to butt out, that her personal life was none of his business. Instead, she apparently decided to play along. “Do you want that chronologically, alphabetically or arranged by height?”

He assumed she was just exaggerating, but there was no way he was going to accuse her of that. “Ouch, that many?”

“That many,” she confirmed, her expression remaining impassive.

Ignoring the detective, Ashley was about to sweep past the front desk and head directly to the elevator.

“Hold on a minute,” the sergeant manning the front desk called out. He looked uncertainly at the terrier in her arms and directed his question to Ashley. “Shouldn’t you be using the rear entrance, heading toward Animal Control with that mutt?” He nodded his head toward the terrier.

She could actually feel Cavanaugh’s grin as the sergeant referred to Albert as a mutt, just as he had. She ignored him.

At the sound of the new voice, the terrier became agitated and began to bark again.

“Shh, it’s okay, Albert,” she whispered softly to the dog before answering the sergeant. “I’m supposed to take him down to the crime lab.”

Shane intervened. “It’s okay, Murphy, she’s with me.”

She looked at Shane, surprised by his statement. “No, I’m not,” she contradicted.

“I’m taking you to the crime lab,” Shane informed her. “So that makes you with me.”

“I can find it on my own,” she retorted. “So that makes me with me.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then took a guess. “Ever been there before?”

She didn’t see what that had to do with it. It was just another department in the building. “No, but—”

“I have,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll be your guide.”

Exactly how incompetent did he think she was? “It’s in the basement,” she pointed out, “not somewhere in the Northwest Territory, Sacagawea. I think I can find where I’m supposed to go.”

Shane laughed, as if that was a common mistake almost everyone made. “Trust me, it’s better with a guide,” he told her, taking hold of Ashley’s arm. The moment he did, the dog began to growl. Rather than pull back his hand, Shane just scowled at the animal. “You want to call him off?” It was more of a command than a question.