An Irresistible Man

that I was cleared in the investigation because I was innocent. And you would do well to remember that Cruz Martinez might be, too.”

Geoffrey rose also. “Believe what you wish. But if you insist on going ahead with this investigation, you had better be sure of your motives regarding Martinez. If you conclude he’s innocent of any wrongdoing, be very certain this time that you’ve reached your conclusion based upon the evidence, and not upon your emotions.”

Madeline picked up her purse with hands that were not quite steady. “Congratulations, Father. You’ve managed to ruin another meal.”

Realizing her intention, he frowned. “Madeline, you aren’t leaving? You haven’t finished your dinner.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” she said clearly, and stalked from the room and out of the house.

Back in her own apartment she tried to curb the anger that renewed every time she played back their conversation. Her blood pressure couldn’t stand more than an hour a month in her father’s presence. She’d known that he didn’t have an especially high opinion of her. But to imply that she would succumb to any man who came her way… How could he not know her at all, after thirty years?

The answer was simple, she thought glumly as she methodically put her purse away and hung up her jacket. Geoffrey Casey had never taken the time to get to know either of his children. They existed solely as extensions of himself, extensions he felt compelled to control. He didn’t want to get to know them. To do so would mean he would have to admit they were individuals in their own right.

She flipped on some soothing music and plopped down on the couch, sitting cross-legged. She bent her head back and concentrated on allowing the tension from the evening to slip away. Really, what difference did it make what her father thought? He’d long since lost the power to really hurt her with his lack of faith.

She refused to admit, even to herself, that he’d never quite lost the power to make her doubt herself.

Madeline knocked on Captain Brewer’s door the next morning and entered at his brusque command. His eyebrows rose when he saw her, and he motioned her to a chair.

“Well, Sergeant, do you have something for me already?”

“Just an update.” She told him of the interrogation of Stover the day before, “Martinez is going to ask Ritter to try to convince Jacobs to reduce the charges in return for Stover telling us where he got the weapon.”

“What else do you have?”

“His weapon is the only one that’s been recovered in the act of a crime. And it’s the same kind that was used in each of the drive- by shootings.”

Brewer waited for a few moments, but when she added nothing further, he said, “That’s all? Casey, you’ve got nothing. If Jacobs had been interested, he would have acted by now.”

“Maybe no one has suggested it yet,” she maintained stubbornly. “We figured it was worth a shot.”

The captain didn’t look convinced. “Don’t get your hopes up. Stover robbed a bank, for God’s sake, and got caught red-handed doing it. Jacobs isn’t going to want to give up a sure conviction.” He looked at her for a long moment. “What have you gotten on Martinez so far?”

She sighed. “It’s only been one day. Did you think I was going to walk in after twenty-four hours and hand him over to you?” She hesitated. Damn her father for his words last night. Now she would be examining each move she made for signs of favoritism to Martinez. Brewer, too, was eyeing her speculatively.

“So you’re saying you haven’t found anything so far.”

After a momentary pause she related the scene between Martinez and Baker. “He mentioned the Internal Affairs investigation.”

“And?” the man demanded. “Did you get the feeling he was harboring a grudge against the department?”

“He certainly didn’t agree with the investigation’s findings,” she said dryly, “but that’s hardly grounds to convict him of illegal gun sales.”

“Don’t downplay it, Detective,” the captain admonished her. “If he thinks the department let him down, it could be a possible motive for wanting to get even.”

Madeline closed her mouth against further argument. Defending Cruz Martinez wasn’t in her job description. She was, after all, carrying out her assignment.

She refused to listen to the mocking voice inside questioning just who she was trying to convince. Brewer, her father, or herself?

As Madeline walked toward Martinez’s desk, he jumped up. “You’re here, great.” He rounded his desk and headed toward, then past her. She turned and followed him outside.

“I take it we’re in a hurry,” she surmised as they went toward the car.

“That we are, Detective Casey. I just called Philadelphia Memorial Hospital and Ramsey Elliot is able to have visitors. He’s also making noises about leaving the hospital soon, so we need to get over there before he does.” Reaching the car, he tossed her the keys, which she caught reflexively. “Your turn to drive, remember?”

Madeline slid into the driver’s seat and Cruz sat on the passenger side. “Buckle up, Madeline,” he chided her playfully. “You’ve heard the commercials. Click it or ticket.” Bending forward, he reached for the car radio, batting her hand out of the way as she would have selected the station. “Uh-uh, it’s my turn. Passenger gets to choose the music.” Soon a plaintive country song was filling the air.

“Oh, good heavens,” Madeline said, throwing him a look of disgust. “You weren’t kidding yesterday. You really do listen to this stuff.”

“I never kid about good music,” he informed her solemnly. “Just give it a chance. It will grow on you.”

Like a fungus, she thought, but kept the remark to herself. She checked out his feet. Today they were garbed in yet another pair of cowboy boots. She’d made a few phone calls before she had met him this morning, and she was still stunned at the amount she was quoted over the phone for such a pair. Her head still swam with the different kinds the clerks had reeled off. Ostrich skin, rattlesnake, kangaroo… She was too untutored to discern the type he wore, but as she’d expected, they were expensive. Her eyes swept his figure, slouched in the seat next to her, and she smirked. Maybe he spent all his money on boots-the rest of his wardrobe seemed limited to jeans and casual shirts. She ignored the way they enhanced his body and returned her gaze to traffic.

“What do you have on Ramsey Elliot so far?”

“Not much. I was able to question him a little bit after he was brought in, while he was waiting for surgery. Then the doctor kicked me out and I haven’t spoken with him since. I did talk to his mother, though. She’s the one who told me he was a member of the Lords. He’s fifteen, and according to her, he’s only been running with them for a couple of months. Since he’s hooked up with his new friends she’s had all kinds of trouble with him-skipping school, fights, vandalism. He’s currently on probation for a charge of assault. He jumped another kid in the hallway at school.”

Madeline didn’t comment. The story he was telling had all too familiar a ring. On the streets of Philadelphia kids like Ramsey grew up fast, and an alarming number of them didn’t have the chance to grow up at all. “Have you talked to any other members of the Lords?”

“A few, but they didn’t have much to say. We need to concentrate on them next. Unless you have another idea?”

She shook her head. Their best bet would be to lean heavily on the gang, and try to anticipate their next move.

At the hospital a nurse showed them the way to Ramsey’s room. As they approached it, they heard raised voices.

“I told you to stay out of it!”

“Why should I, huh? You didn’t. You didn’t stay out of it, and look where it got you! Lying in a hospital bed with your stomach full of lead!”

“Forget about it. It’s too late, anyway. I can’t-”

The voice broke off as the nurse pushed open the door, announcing their arrival. “You have more visitors, Ramsey.” She looked at Cruz and Madeline. “Don’t stay too long, Detectives. He still tires easily.” They nodded and approached the bed.

“I’m Detective Martinez, Ramsey, and this is Detective Casey. I spoke to you for a few minutes after you were brought in, do you remember that?”

The youth was silent, his gaze distrustful. Finally he muttered, “Yeah, I remember you.”

Cruz looked at the other visitor in the room. “Who’s this?”

“My brother, Ricky.”

“Hi, Ricky.” The boy nodded and ducked his head, not looking at either detective. Cruz’s attention shifted back