Read Online Cavanaugh on Duty by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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their cameras to take their pretty pictures—even if the whole thing’s dumb.”
Kari let go of his shirtsleeve, dropping her hand to her side.
“It’s only dumb,” she corrected him, “when you see the case you’ve toiled tirelessly over being thrown out of court because one stupid misstep has crucial evidence being ruled inadmissible.” Her head was beginning to ache from the smell assaulting her. “Off the record, I agree with you, but that’s just the way things are.”
She’d managed to mildly spark his interest—besides, he had to do something while waiting, and asking questions was as good a way as any to pass the time.
“It happened to you?” he asked, then clarified when she gave him a quizzical look. “Having something thrown out as inadmissible?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah, it happened to me.” And no amount of appealing to just about everyone she could think of had changed that. Taking out her cell phone, she pressed one preprogrammed number on the keypad, then waited as the phone on the other end rang. She silently counted off the rings, getting up to three. When the fourth ring came, she knew she was being connected to voice mail and sighed with displeasure because she hated talking to machines. But just as the fourth ring was fading, clearing a path for the robotic voice that was about to ask her to “please leave a message at the tone,” Kari heard the cell being picked up on the other end.
And then a deep voice announced, “Crime lab, Cavanaugh.”
Her father had taken to his new/old name like a duck to water, she thought. All those years of feeling as if he wasn’t quite in sync with the rest of his family finally made sense now. They, the Cavellis, really hadn’t been the rest of his family.
At least, not in total.
He was a Cavanaugh no matter what his birth certificate had initially stated. She was just glad for his sake that the error had finally come to light, giving him the opportunity to claim his birthright if he wanted it.
“Hi, Dad,” she said without bothering to announce herself. “I’m in need of your stunningly focused expertise.”
There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation on the other end of the call. A hearty laugh was immediately followed by, “Ah, Kari, my most perceptive offspring. You have a crime scene for me.”
It wasn’t a guess but a statement of fact. With rare insight, Sean Cavanaugh knew each of his children inside out.
“All but gift-wrapped,” she told him. “My new partner and I found a dead body wrapped up in what looks like an old Persian rug. Rug and body are currently stashed in a storage facility on Edinger and East Yale Loop. I need you and your team of roving experts to process the crime scene for me so I can get on with the case.”
“Address?” he asked. She rattled it off for him, having already committed it to memory. “All right, Kari, the team and I will be there as soon as I finish up here,” he promised.
So, he’d already scored another crime scene. There was a time, according to the stories her father had told them, that the only crime in Aurora revolved around littering.
“Busy morning?” she murmured.
“Too busy,” he answered. But he wasn’t one to go on about his work, so he said, “Be there as soon as we can,” and then terminated the call.
“How long?” Esteban wanted to know the moment Kari returned her cell phone to her pocket and headed back to him.
Sugarcoating it got her no extra points and she knew it. So she went with the truth.
“Not sure,” she confessed.
Esteban was already growing impatient, and they were still within their first fifteen minutes at the crime scene.
“And we’re just supposed to stand here, staring off into space until they get here?” he groused.
“You can handle the staring part if you want,” she told him glibly. “I’m going to go and see what I can get out of that manager guy. He struck me as someone who liked sticking his nose into everyone’s
Kari let go of his shirtsleeve, dropping her hand to her side.
“It’s only dumb,” she corrected him, “when you see the case you’ve toiled tirelessly over being thrown out of court because one stupid misstep has crucial evidence being ruled inadmissible.” Her head was beginning to ache from the smell assaulting her. “Off the record, I agree with you, but that’s just the way things are.”
She’d managed to mildly spark his interest—besides, he had to do something while waiting, and asking questions was as good a way as any to pass the time.
“It happened to you?” he asked, then clarified when she gave him a quizzical look. “Having something thrown out as inadmissible?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah, it happened to me.” And no amount of appealing to just about everyone she could think of had changed that. Taking out her cell phone, she pressed one preprogrammed number on the keypad, then waited as the phone on the other end rang. She silently counted off the rings, getting up to three. When the fourth ring came, she knew she was being connected to voice mail and sighed with displeasure because she hated talking to machines. But just as the fourth ring was fading, clearing a path for the robotic voice that was about to ask her to “please leave a message at the tone,” Kari heard the cell being picked up on the other end.
And then a deep voice announced, “Crime lab, Cavanaugh.”
Her father had taken to his new/old name like a duck to water, she thought. All those years of feeling as if he wasn’t quite in sync with the rest of his family finally made sense now. They, the Cavellis, really hadn’t been the rest of his family.
At least, not in total.
He was a Cavanaugh no matter what his birth certificate had initially stated. She was just glad for his sake that the error had finally come to light, giving him the opportunity to claim his birthright if he wanted it.
“Hi, Dad,” she said without bothering to announce herself. “I’m in need of your stunningly focused expertise.”
There wasn’t even a second’s hesitation on the other end of the call. A hearty laugh was immediately followed by, “Ah, Kari, my most perceptive offspring. You have a crime scene for me.”
It wasn’t a guess but a statement of fact. With rare insight, Sean Cavanaugh knew each of his children inside out.
“All but gift-wrapped,” she told him. “My new partner and I found a dead body wrapped up in what looks like an old Persian rug. Rug and body are currently stashed in a storage facility on Edinger and East Yale Loop. I need you and your team of roving experts to process the crime scene for me so I can get on with the case.”
“Address?” he asked. She rattled it off for him, having already committed it to memory. “All right, Kari, the team and I will be there as soon as I finish up here,” he promised.
So, he’d already scored another crime scene. There was a time, according to the stories her father had told them, that the only crime in Aurora revolved around littering.
“Busy morning?” she murmured.
“Too busy,” he answered. But he wasn’t one to go on about his work, so he said, “Be there as soon as we can,” and then terminated the call.
“How long?” Esteban wanted to know the moment Kari returned her cell phone to her pocket and headed back to him.
Sugarcoating it got her no extra points and she knew it. So she went with the truth.
“Not sure,” she confessed.
Esteban was already growing impatient, and they were still within their first fifteen minutes at the crime scene.
“And we’re just supposed to stand here, staring off into space until they get here?” he groused.
“You can handle the staring part if you want,” she told him glibly. “I’m going to go and see what I can get out of that manager guy. He struck me as someone who liked sticking his nose into everyone’s
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