Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh Encounter

Frankie shrugged. “Gotta start somewhere,” she told him philosophically.

He didn’t want to take a chance that she was up to something. “White Hawk, you go with her,” he told his partner.

Instead, White Hawk pressed the Up button for the elevator.

“Why?” he asked. “She’s not a suspect. What do you expect she’s going to do?”

“I don’t know her well enough to know what she’s capable of doing,” Luke told him. He looked pointedly at the stairwell.

White Hawk blew out a breath. “If I keel over from a heart attack, it’s on you,” he told his partner, walking over to the stairwell.

“I’ll deal with it,” Luke said.

As far as he was concerned, the man was in a hell of a lot better shape than most of the men currently in the precinct. White Hawk just liked being melodramatic.

Waiting until his partner was inside the stairwell, Luke took the elevator down to the basement to take his cousin the two laptops. In addition to sealing them, he had also labeled them.

He sincerely hoped that at least one of the laptops would yield some sort of information that would finally lead them to a break in the case. They needed to find out just who was responsible for killing all these young women.

Walking out of the elevator, Luke made one quick stop at the breakroom, then turned right instead of left. Left led to where his uncle worked in the crime scene investigations lab. Turning right took him to the computer lab where the chief of detectives’ daughter-in-law, Brenda, and his cousin Valri, as well as several other gifted people, worked their magic uncovering secrets that were embedded within the hard drives of completely innocent-looking computers.

Stopping before the glass-enclosed office, Luke knocked lightly on the door frame. Since the door was already open, he peered in.

“How’s my favorite person?” Luke asked cheerfully.

“Not here,” the petite blue-eyed blonde replied, never looking up from her monitor.

“Yes, you are,” Luke said. “You know that I mean you, Val.”

Valri went on working. “What I know is that you mean trouble every time you turn up, Luke. You’re just like your brother Christian.”

After setting down the laptops he’d brought in, Luke dramatically placed his hand over his heart. He was holding a covered container in his free hand that he’d gotten from the breakroom’s vending machine.

“You wound me, Valri,” he told her. “Chris and I are nothing alike.”

This time she looked up, even though she didn’t stop typing. “You’re right. He doesn’t try to sugarcoat things the way that you do.”

“That’s just because he’s not as charming as I am,” Luke said, pretending to defend himself. “I brought you a big container of your favorite tea. Chai—with that creamer you really like.” He set it down to her right.

Still, she told him, “Bribery is not going to get you anywhere.”

“It’s not bribery, Val,” he protested, wounded. “It’s thoughtfulness. Take a sip,” he urged. “It’s still warm.”

She looked at the container and then back at him. “You got this from the vending machine,” she accused.

He didn’t bother denying it. Instead, he argued, “But it’s still warm.”

Valri sighed. “You are incorrigible.” After removing the lid, she took a deep sip. “This is very good.” Still, she teased, “I pity the woman who’s going to wind up with you.”

“Never going to happen,” Luke told her. “I would never be able to find a woman who could come anywhere close to measuring up to you, Valri—even though we are cousins.”

Valri shook her head. “You lay it on any thicker and I’ll have to get a shovel to make my way to the door.” She sighed, giving him her full attention. “All right, Lukkas, what kind of a puzzle did you bring me this time?” she asked.

“I come bearing laptops,” he told her, indicating the two sealed envelopes he’d placed on her desk. “They belonged to two women who were recently murdered. In each case, the murderer made it look like it was a drug overdose.”

“But you think it wasn’t?”

“Questioning one victim’s mother and going by information from someone who knew the other woman—” for now, he was deliberately keeping DeMarco’s name out of it, although he did mean to get back to that “—they swear that both women had conquered their drug problems and were leading normal, productive lives.”

She made the logical leap. “You think the two cases are connected?” Valri asked him.

“I’m pretty sure, but that’s what I’m hoping you and your magical ways are going to find out and prove for me. And, just for the record, there aren’t two cases, there are seven.”

Valri eyed him. “Seven?”

He nodded. “Seven. All were dark-haired young women in their twenties, all were found dead from a drug overdose with a syringe either in their arm or lying near them. The scenes were all staged,” he said, telling his cousin what his gut had led him to believe.

“It could all just be a terrible coincidence,” Valri commented.

He gave her a patient, if somewhat patronizing, look. “And what was it that we all learned when we were growing up?”

She glanced at the container of chai tea on her desk. “Beware of good-looking men bearing gifts?”

“No,” he corrected. “There are no such things as coincidences.” Luke paused as he played back her words in his head. “You think I’m good-looking?” he asked, amused.

“In a motley sort of way,” Valri told him. “Now go,” she ordered. “Leave me to my work before I find a way to bury these laptops under a pile of paperwork,” Valri warned.

Luke was already out the door. “You’ll call if you find something?”

“I’ll call if I find something,” she told him. It was a given. “Now go!”

She found herself talking to empty space. Luke had left.

“I should have said that in the first place,” she murmured under her breath as she got back to work.

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