No One Heard Her Scream

Was Becca staring into the eyes of a killer? She swallowed and forced a smile.

'That's very good. If this whole wealthy playboy thing doesn't work out, I could put in a good word for you down at the SAPD.' To regain her composure, Becca took a sip of coffee before she continued. 'The recent fire may prove to be arson. Any theories on that?'

'Arson? Well, there's your answer,' he offered.

'How so?'

'Whoever set the fire no doubt knew about the body. Don't you see? Otherwise, it would be too much coincidence. Your arsonist may well be the killer.'

'Interesting theory, sir.'

Cavanaugh looked like a man who had delivered the only line he had in a stage play. Smug and theatrical. Surely Diego had told the man about the possibility of arson at the Imperial. If he did, Cavanaugh had plenty of time to conjure up his great insight, his theory to place blame on a faceless firebug.

Becca had thought of this angle before. But why would someone wait seven years to pin a murder on Cavanaugh? Could the body have been intended to act like a time bomb, waiting to blow up in the man's face at the worst possible time? Why now? Too many questions without answers.

'Do you know of anyone who would frame you for this murder, sir? Set you up to take the fall?'

'A man in my position has made enemies to be sure, but I can't think of anyone who would do this, no.'

Yeah, right. From what she gathered, Cavanaugh had jump-started his family business on a foundation of mob money. And he hired 'muscle' to ensure his protection. Yet he sat before her— innocence personified. Time for her to rock the yacht.

'Your travel company merged a few years ago with Global Enterprises. And since that time, your business has flourished. Any possibility of—'

Cavanaugh interrupted. 'What would cause you to look into the merger of my company?' The man's eye twitched. A subtle gesture. But the tightening of his jawline had been more pronounced. Becca hit a nerve.

Throughout most of the interview, she struggled to maintain control, with Cavanaugh playing the part of grand master of their mental tug-of-war. Yet with the topic of Global Enterprises on the table, Cavanaugh clammed up, pretended to be insulted by her line of questioning. His cooperation came to a grinding halt. Becca had discovered his trigger—an Achilles' heel. Score one for the visiting team.

'At this stage of my investigation, I have to look at anything and everything, Mr. Cavanaugh.'

His composure had vanished. 'If you are asking if someone within my corporation would do this, the answer is no, Detective.' Cavanaugh set his coffee cup down and stood. 'This conversation is over. Anything else I can do for you?'

Becca had been dismissed.

'No, sir. That will do for now. You've been very helpful.' She stood and reached for her casebook to retrieve a business card. 'If you think of anything else, please contact me.'

Although Cavanaugh took her card, he never glanced at it. The man had no intention of picking up where they'd left off. The next move would be hers.

'Diego will see you to the front door,' the man ordered.

As Cavanaugh left the room, gesturing for Brogan to follow him, Becca caught a distinct reaction from Diego. His double take gave him away. Cavanaugh's directive had surprised him. And he didn't appreciate being odd man out.

'I can find my own way out. After all, I am a detective,' she teased. And in her best Hispanic accent, she added, 'I can detect such things.'

Diego looked distracted and totally missed her impersonation of him. The man watched Cavanaugh leave the room with Brogan and his beady-eyed stare that only a coiled rattler would understand.

'Why didn't you—?'

Before she finished her thought, Diego flashed her an intense look coupled with a subtle shake of his head, cautioning her to keep quiet.

'No trouble, Detective. It will be my pleasure to escort you out.'

They walked in silence, his hand touching the small of her back. Although she tried to ignore his gesture, the feel of his fingers on her body kindled a surge of adrenaline she couldn't control. Toe-curling stuff. With cheeks flushed, she set her jaw. No way she would acknowledge his effect on her.

'This estate has eyes and ears,' he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, not looking her way.

Becca knew the clack of her heels on the tile floor would make audio surveillance difficult, but video was another story. So she kept her eyes straight ahead and her voice low.

'We gotta talk,' she muttered.

'Not here,' he whispered. When they got to the front door, Diego reached for the knob and opened it. In a louder voice, he added, 'Good day, Detective.'

Diego Galvan looked edgy, his unflappable facade a distant memory. And his dark eyes darted back the way they'd come, his jaw taut with tension. Something had caused him to lose his cool. She had to admit that seeing him like this did a number on her head. But her head was the least of her problems. Her body had a mind of its own.

Diego stood close enough for her to feel the warmth off his skin, mixed with his subtle cologne—a potent combination. Although the man tried to maintain his distance, his eyes conveyed another message altogether. They held a sense of danger mixed with an ironclad humanity, an intriguing labyrinth she had to explore.

Becca narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to ask him how and when he would contact her. Instead, she walked out the front door, taking her first step toward trust. Besides, playing a little cloak-and-dagger with gorgeous eyes wouldn't ruin the rest of her day. Diego looked like a man who wanted to talk. A perfect match.

She wanted to hear whatever he had to say ... to a point.

Becca merged the Crown Vic into traffic on I-10 with a lot on her mind. Diego's words of warning about Cavanaugh were dead on the money. The man gave her a serious case of the creeps, triggering a gut reaction that the affluent pillar of the community hid something, especially where Global Enterprises was concerned. But as she replayed the interview with Cavanaugh in her head, her cell phone rang.

'Montgomery.'

'Becca? Where are you?'

She recognized the voice of Lieutenant Arturo Santiago.

'I'm on I-10, heading back downtown. Why?'

'I wanted you to hear this from me, before the media gets ahold of it.'

His words gripped her heart. A grave tone to his voice. It drew her back to the day she first heard about a bloody motel room. This couldn't be good.

'Sounds ominous. What's up?'

'There's been another abduction, in Austin near the U.T. campus. A couple of days ago.'

Another young life ruined, a family torn apart. The news wrenched her gut. Danielle's sweet face flashed in front of her eyes. Becca clenched her jaw and gripped the steering wheel, hard. She tried to regain her composure, stay focused.

'Same MO?' She hated the edge to her voice. The need. 'Is there a connection, Art?'

'No, the MO is different. Broad daylight this time, no nightclub involved. And the girl was a college kid, some foreign exchange student from Japan. The FBI clued Murphy in on this one. We wouldn't have seen it as connected except for one thing.'

'Yeah, what's that?'

The man hadn't heard her. He kept on talking.

'We're not gonna leak this detail to the press, Becca. This one we keep.'

'Art, spit it out. I gotta know.'

'Your sister's senior class ring was found in a van they dumped, wedged in a crack.'

The news stole her breath, bringing a sudden rush of tears to her eyes. The innocence of a graduation that would never be collided with the horror of Danielle's violent death in a blood-splattered motel room. A cruel jolt. It took every ounce of concentration to keep her car between the painted lines. No way she'd be frozen out on this