Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh In The Rough

Valri Cavanaugh frowned ever so slightly as she looked down at the two bagged cell phones that had just been placed on her desk. Raising her eyes to her cousin’s, she said, “You do realize that just because your middle name is Cavanaugh doesn’t mean you automatically go to the head of the line, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, then went on to enumerate the reasons he felt he could ask his cousin to put a rush on lifting videos from the two phones. “This goes to the head of the line because it might show us who killed a perfectly innocent young woman who looked enough like you to be your sister. Because the teenaged boys who own these devices are even now having withdrawal symptoms, enduring traumatic separations from their cell phones, and we all know they would have rather given up a kidney. And last but not least, because I’m trying to impress this really cute crime scene investigator with my crime solving powers.” Finished, he took in a deep breath, then said, “For all the above reasons, I need you and your really clever expertise to lift and enhance the videos on these phones”

This was not Valri’s first rodeo—nor was it her first sweet-talking relative. Growing up with her brothers had made her all but immune to this sort of charismatic persuasion. “What you need, Detective O’Bannon,” she informed him, “is help.”

Chris was all innocence as he replied, “That’s what I’m asking for.”

Valri wouldn’t budge. “Really serious help.”

“Still on the same page,” Chris told her.

“Serious mental help, Christian,” she emphasized, feeling as if she still wasn’t getting through to him.

“Haven’t had your morning tea yet, have you?” Chris asked sympathetically. He knew that his cousin was partial to tea, unlike the rest of his clan, who all but ran on black coffee.

“Haven’t had my breakfast yet,” Valri complained in a weak moment. “I came in early to try to catch up on my backlog.”

And that was clearly not happening, she thought, looking accusingly at the sealed cell phones on her desk. It was just a matter of time before she gave in and she knew it.

“Well, if you do this—” he nodded at the evidence bags “—it’ll be that much less backlog you’ll have to deal with.”

Valri blew out a breath. She’d made a valiant attempt, but now had to give up. The less time she spent resisting, the more she would have for the rest of her work.

“All right, I’ll do it,” she declared. “It’ll be worth it just to get you out of my hair.”

Chris sifted a long, silky blond strand through his fingers. “And such lovely hair it is, too.”

Valri pulled the strand away from him. “You can cut the blarney, Chris. I already agreed to process the cell phones.”

He pretended to look stunned. “Valri, I’m surprised at you. We don’t avail ourselves of ‘blarney.’ That’s for the Irish. Our ancestors came from Scotland.”

Valri sighed. The man had a wonderful baritone voice that made the most trivial information sound important. But even so, it was time to get him out of her lab.

“You know, the longer you talk,” she told him, “the longer it’s going to take for me to go through all this.”

“Consider me gone,” Chris announced, already heading for the door. “Oh, and don’t forget to make copies of those party videos,” he reminded her. “Uncle Sean’s going to want to take a look at them himself. You know how hands-on he is.”

“As opposed to being all handsy,” Valri countered, looking at her cousin knowingly.

Rather than pretend not to understand what she was talking about, Chris grinned. “We all have our calling,” he said, and then winked. “But between you and me, my hands never go anywhere they’re not invited.”

“Just go!” Valri ordered, pointing to the doorway with a laugh.

“Like I was never here,” he replied and made himself scarce.

* * *

“Miss me?” Chris asked late that afternoon, stepping into Suzie’s work area.

Lost in thought as she’d been, she stifled a gasp. The detective had caught her by surprise and it took an effort not to show it. Suzie didn’t like revealing any sort of vulnerability, and to be caught off guard or unprepared was to be vulnerable, in her book.

Collecting herself, she answered with a careless, “Not even for a second.” Then suggested, “Try being gone longer.”

“Maybe next time,” he promised.

Although she wanted to ignore him, she couldn’t. It wasn’t just that his presence seemed to fill up the room, even one as large as the lab. He’d brought something with him, as well.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding at the tablet he had just dropped on her desk.

“That is your very own copy of Aurora’s wild nightlife,” he told her.

“I thought I was already looking at it,” Suzie deadpanned.

Chris inclined his head. “Touché,” he replied, then, playing along, said, “This is the video version. Or more specifically, a copy of what our very own wizard of a computer technician managed to get off the Three Stooges Minus One’s cell phone videos of the so-called ‘floating’ party that they couldn’t crash—thanks to you,” he added, because, after all, if Suzie hadn’t asked the right questions and found out about the videos the teenagers had made, they wouldn’t have this potential lead.

“Nice save,” Suzie allowed, amused despite herself. “But you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings if you don’t mention my part in securing the videos. I’m not in this for the credit.”

Chris leaned casually against her desk, every inch the consummate laid-back detective. “What are you in this for?” he asked.

She could feel his eyes pinning her down even if she deliberately didn’t look up and make eye contact. “A regular paycheck at the end of the week,” she told him dismissively.

“Uh-uh,” Chris said.

He leaned down in front of her, getting in her face and making it impossible for her to avoid eye contact with him. His gaze felt as if it could delve right into her soul and she really resented the invasion.

“That isn’t it, either,” he told her confidently.

“Then what is?” she asked, doing her best not to allow her temper to flare.

Suzie braced herself to listen to the detective spin his outlandish theories. At the very least, she expected to hear him spout some grandiose rhetoric. But it was her turn to be surprised by him.

“I don’t know yet,” Chris told her honestly. “But I’m working on it. I’ll let you know when I come up with an answer.”

Suzie frowned. She didn’t have time to waste watching this too-handsome-for-his-own-good detective trying to mesmerize her. She had work to do and so did he.

“Your time would be better spent coming up with answers regarding our dead woman,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.

Our.

Her slip of the tongue was not lost on Chris. The grin on his lips told her so before he uttered a word. “Our first joint venture. We should savor this.”

“What I’d savor,” she informed him, “is some peace and quiet so I can work. Specifically, some time away from you.”

The expression that came over Chris’s face was one of doubt. “Now, if we spend time apart, how are we going to work on this case together?” he asked, conveying that what she’d just said lacked logic.

Suzie had only one word to give him in response to his question. “Productively.”

With that, she went back to doing her work, but that lasted for only a few moments. A minute at best. Though she tried to block out his presence, he still managed to get to her.

He was standing exactly where he had been, watching her so intently that she could literally feel his eyes on her skin. It caused her powers of concentration to deteriorate until they finally became nonexistent.