Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh Stakeout

“Well, then we’re no worse off than we were before,” Sean answered. “But remember, there are a lot more people in the system now than there used to be. People need to be fingerprinted for any number of reasons these days. Keep a positive thought,” he told his nephew cheerfully.

Finn pressed his lips together. “Right,” he murmured.

“Oh, and, Finn?” Sean said just as Finn was about to hang up.

“Yes?”

“There was one more thing.” Sean paused and it was for effect, something he didn’t usually do, but given the nature of this case, he felt he could be forgiven this one time.

“Yes?” Finn asked again.

“We found blood in the trunk.”

“Blood?” Finn repeated, stunned.

“Yes. It looks like there was a body transported in the trunk,” Sean said.

“Talk about burying the lead!” Finn cried. Pulling himself together, he asked, “Do you know who the blood belongs to?”

“Not yet,” Sean answered. “We’ll call you about that, too,” he promised.

“I will be waiting,” Finn said, trying not to sound as impatient as he felt.

More than an hour later, the phone rang again. Finn had just gotten up from his desk and was about to leave the robbery division’s squad room. The moment he heard his phone, he hurried back and yanked up the receiver. “Finn Cavanaugh.”

“You know that positive thought I told you to keep earlier?”

Finn recognized Sean’s voice immediately. Hope sprang up in his chest. “Yes?”

“We found a match to that print,” Sean told Finn. “Or rather, Valri did.”

Sometimes things really did work themselves out, Finn thought. “Who does the print belong to?”

“It belongs to a Marilyn Palmer,” Sean answered. “There was only one arrest down in her file. Nothing too spectacular. She was part of some sort of group staging a college protest a few years ago. She spent the night in jail, then was released to her mother. As near as Valri could tell, there have been no repeat performances since that date.”

“Until she stole Seamus’s car,” Finn reminded Sean grimly, “and carted off a body in the trunk.”

“Right, until then,” Sean agreed.

“Have you matched that blood yet?” Finn asked.

“No luck so far, but we’re working on it,” Sean said. “Now, if you have a pen, I’ll give you Marilyn Palmer’s address.”

“All right, shoot,” Finn said to the head of the CSI day unit, ready to copy down any and all information that Sean had for him.

Finally, Finn thought in relief, they were beginning to get somewhere.

“Hey, Finn,” Detective Joe Harley, Finn’s occasional partner, called out as he stuck his head into the robbery squad room. “There’s a woman out here who’s looking for you. She says she wants to talk.” Harley grinned at him. “Looks like you finally got lucky.”

Finn was already on his feet. Armed with the address that Sean had just given him, he was just about to leave the precinct. He wanted to talk to the twenty-year-old who had just become his prime suspect. Unless this was really important, he didn’t have the time to waste on someone coming in to report something that she only thought was missing but in reality had just been misplaced. It didn’t matter how attractive she was. His focus was on something far more important.

“You talk to her, Harley,” he told the other detective.

But the ten-year veteran he sometimes teamed up with shook his head.

“Believe me—” Harley glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway “—I’d like to, but she said she only wants to speak to the person in charge of the investigation concerning the stolen car found in Merryweather Park…and that would be you.”

Finn immediately snapped to attention. Maybe this woman did have something significant to tell him after all. “All right, Harley, show the lady in,” Finn instructed.

Harley pretended to salute as he sighed and retreated. “Y’know, some guys just have all the luck,” he muttered under his breath.

Finn wasn’t sure just how to take that—until the detective returned less than a minute later. Walking beside Harley was a statuesque blonde with a knockout figure that could, in his opinion, bring strong men to their knees and make them salivate, as impossible fantasies began to dance in their heads.

However, despite her other attributes, it was the woman’s clear-water blue eyes that instantly caught Finn’s attention. He knew it wasn’t possible, but her eyes looked as if they could see right through a man, and like the fictional superheroine with her golden lasso, would allow nothing but the truth to fall from his lips.

Getting a hold of himself, Finn managed to regain the use of his tongue just as she came up to him. He put his hand out as he introduced himself. “I’m Detective Finn Cavan—”

The woman slipped her hand into his and Finn could have sworn that there was a momentary spark of electricity shooting up his arm. He dismissed it as adrenaline, with everything that was going on.

“I know who you are, Detective Cavanaugh,” the woman said, cutting him off as she smiled warmly at him.

“Well, that puts you one up on me,” Finn told her. He didn’t like being caught at a disadvantage. “Detective Harley didn’t tell me your name.”

“Well, that’s easily solved. I’m Nikola Kowalski. Nik, to my friends,” she added, putting her other hand over his as she shook it.

Because she seemed so friendly, something within Finn backed off. He didn’t trust people outside the family who were this outgoing. They usually had some sort of a hidden agenda. Women who looked as exceptionally attractive as this one did were usually the type to use their looks to disarm people.

Finn’s voice grew distant as he asked, “Do you know something about the car that was just recovered, Ms. Kowalski?”

Nik picked up on his cool, reserved voice immediately. He was attempting to maintain distance between them. Too bad. She preferred a warmer, friendlier attitude, but she didn’t need him to be all warm and toasty in order for her to do this.

“If you’re going to go the formal route,” she said, referring to his using her surname. “The w is pronounced like a v ,” she informed him. “But ‘Nik’ is a lot easier,” she stressed.

He guessed right. The woman who looked as if she had just stepped off the cover of a swimsuit magazine intended to use her feminine wiles to pump information out of him. But he had no intention of being pumped.

“We’re getting off-topic,” Finn told her. “What do you know about the car that was found?”

That hadn’t become public knowledge yet. The details about his grandfather’s brother being savagely attacked and left for dead were being kept tightly under wraps. If she knew about it, then she had to be involved somehow. He looked at her with heightened interest.

She saw the spark in his eyes and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He hadn’t acted as if he was interested in her a moment ago. But she did answer his question just to move this along.

“Well, for starters,” she told the steely-eyed detective in front of her, “I am fairly certain that Marilyn Palmer didn’t steal it.”

Considering that he had only been given the woman’s name a few minutes ago, Finn’s suspicion that the blonde talking to him was somehow involved increased tenfold. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her.

“How would you even know that we thought that?” he challenged. Not waiting for an answer, he decided to approach this squarely and asked, “Are you mixed up in this in some way?”