Marie Ferrarella - Mission - Cavanaugh Baby

The sun was finally pushing its way into the apartment through the rear sliding-glass doors, lighting the corners of the room that had previously been hidden in the shadows.

It also seemed to weave itself through the petite officer’s red hair, giving it highlights and making it shine alluringly. Catching his attention, it caused Shane’s train of thought to halt abruptly.

Beautiful women always caught his attention, and whatever else this woman was, she was definitely beautiful.

“What?” he asked, realizing that she’d said something and was waiting for an answer. Preoccupied, he didn’t have a clue as to what she’d just asked.

“Will you be needing me?” she repeated, then added, “Any further?”

Ashley had lost her train of thought because the detective was looking at her rather intently, as if he was weighing something.

It took effort for her not to shift uncomfortably.

“You have a card on you, Officer?” he finally asked, his eyes holding hers. “You never know when that need might come up.”

She knew she had to be misinterpreting his words, but the last part sounded much too personal, almost intimate. She could feel her cheeks warming, turning a different shade than they’d been just a moment ago. He’d worded his explanation just ambiguously enough to make it sound as if he might want her for something other than verbal input.

Not for the first time, she cursed her fair complexion. It was a dead giveaway.

Ashley forced herself to calm down and regain control over at least her outward appearance.

This one, she decided, fancied himself a ladies’ man, someone who probably wasn’t accustomed to being refused. Taking a card with her name on it out of her pocket, she handed it to him and answered, “No, I guess you just never do.”

Turning on her heel, she started for the door.

“You taking that dog to the shelter?” he called out after her.

He honestly didn’t know why he’d asked that. He really didn’t care where the animal went, as long as it didn’t run through the crime scene again.

“Why?” she asked, slipping a shielding hand around the terrier as if to silently communicate to the animal that it had no reason to fear anything as long as it was under her protection. “You want to question him later and rule him out as a suspect, too?”

The woman’s feisty attitude intrigued him even as it annoyed him. “I want to tie up all the ends I can in my report. That includes where the dog was relocated. Now can I put down that he was taken to the animal shelter where he can be found until the city disposes of him.”

He’d used the phrase to cover all bases—if the dog went on to be adopted by someone looking for a pet, it was considered to be one method of “disposal.” But even so, she didn’t care for the detective’s cold, detached manner.

“You can put down anything you want, Detective Cavanaugh. But if you must know, I’ll be taking the dog home with me when my shift is over.” It was a spur of the moment decision on her part and it wasn’t exactly according to the rules—but that was how she got the other two dogs she currently shared her house with. Animal Control’s rules were slightly bendable, allowing her some leeway.

The way there apparently wasn’t in the main division, she observed.

Shane looked from the dog in her arms to her. “Why would you do that?”

* * *

Ashley continued to pet the dog as she spoke. “Because he’s been traumatized enough for one day, and I thought he could do with calm, tranquil surroundings for a while. He can’t receive that sort of attention if I take him to Animal Control. We don’t have enough personnel available for that.”

Shane looked at her skeptically. He didn’t know what to make of this woman. Was she some PETA-type radical in uniform, or just a pushover—at least where animals were concerned?

“Isn’t giving him individualized care a little over the top?” he asked.

Ashley lifted her chin defiantly. “It shouldn’t be,” she informed him.

Shane laughed shortly. “Easy to see why the dog likes you so much.”

“Why?” she asked, curious about the kind of reasoning he was using—and bracing herself for the worst.

Shane assumed that would be crystal clear to her. Was she fishing for a compliment? “Because you’re taking his side, speaking up for him.”

Maybe she was taking sides with the dog, but there was something about this detective that made her want to instantly take the opposite side of whatever he said.

“I just balance out the people who get off on kicking dogs,” she replied simply.

The expression on his face shifted to one of amusement. “Are you a crusader, Officer St. James?”

She squared her shoulders, subconsciously bracing for a fight. She didn’t like being laughed at. “Not a crusader,” she answered. “Just someone doing her job the way she sees fit. Now, if you’re finished with us, Detective, I’ll take Albert out of here.”

“‘Albert,’” he repeated, surprised. “You know the dog’s name?”

Evidently he was thinking that if she knew that—given there was no dog tag on the animal—she had to know the victim, as well.

“No, but he looks like an Albert,” Ashley answered, shifting her hands and holding the dog up as if she was examining all sides of him, mimicking the process she’d employed when deciding on his name.

“If you say so,” the detective murmured under his breath.

“Oh, Officer,” Sean Cavanaugh called as he stepped out of the bedroom for a moment. “Before I forget, we’ll need to check out that terrier. We might find something in his fur that’ll tell us something about the person who did this. I can have one of my people take him over to Animal Control when we’re done.”

Ashley looked down at the dog. She could feel the animal begin to tremble against her, as if he actually understood what was being said and knew he was about to be separated from her.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take him. He doesn’t really look as if he trusts any of you.”

She knew her request wasn’t according to protocol, but had sensed that the elder Cavanaugh might not be a stickler for the letter of the rules, just the spirit.

“That would be fine,” he told her, “as long as you take him in right now. I can’t have any possible evidence being contaminated.”

“Understood,” she replied, then flashed a smile intended strictly for the senior Cavanaugh. “I’m on my way,” she announced, leaving.

* * *

For a moment Shane watched the woman leave with the canine she was protecting.

The second she walked out the door, he turned toward his father—only to find that he had retreated into the bedroom. Shane was quick to make his way to the back of the apartment.

Having the case land in his lap like this seemed almost serendipitous because lately he’d been thinking about asking to be transferred to the homicide division. Homicide was where all the up-and-comers wanted to go, so why shouldn’t he?

Walking into the bedroom, he saw another crime scene investigator in the room with his father, collecting physical evidence. Probably the same man his father had intended to have transport the terrier to the lab before the officer had volunteered to do it.

Shane nodded at the man then planted himself in front of his father, waiting until Sean was finished with whatever he was doing.

Looking up, his father noted his presence and went back to photographing the bedroom.

“Cute,” he pronounced out of the blue.

“What is?” Shane asked.

Sean looked up at him as if to ask, “Are you kidding me?” But he obliged his son by spelling it all out for him. “That officer with the material witness in her arms.”