one. Not now.
'By itself, this doesn't mean much. It's only her ring, judging by the initials on the inside of the band. We have no context, no time frame. The ring ties this vehicle to the FBI's case, that's all.'
'But it's something, Art,' she pleaded, softening her tone. 'Something of Dani's.'
'Look, I know what you're thinking, but I gotta tell ya,' Santiago added, 'I got a new guy from the FBI down here today. He's buttoning things up tight. You're not gonna . . .'
Becca didn't let him finish.
'I want in, Art. One way or another, I
Becca ended the call and tossed the cell onto the seat next to her. She hit the gas pedal. No way Santiago would bar her from the investigation now.
CHAPTER5
'Detective Montgomery is going to be a problem, one I will place in your hands.'
Hunter Cavanaugh collapsed into his black leather desk chair, the start of a headache pulsing at his temples. The study smelled of brandy and cigar smoke, with the underlying musty odor of old books. The combined pungency gnarled his stomach, intensified by the reversal of fortune to his morning. Cavanaugh sat behind his desk and stared straight through Brogan, his mind on other things.
'And let's keep this our little secret. Diego is not to find out. The last thing I need is for Rivera to hear about my little . . . hobby.'
'But this body in the theater, they won't find a connection.'
'Does that really matter?' He didn't feel like explaining himself to Brogan. 'Being under a cop's scrutiny is never a good thing.'
The pretty detective piqued his interest when he thought she was investigating the fire at the Imperial Theatre. Diego had given him a heads-up on the blaze being arson. Professional courtesy, the man had said. And when Detective Montgomery walked into the room, he felt like a kid waking up Christmas morning—a new toy caught his eye. Yet in no time, she doused him with a harsh reality. And she didn't look like the kind of woman who knew how to play outside the rules.
'I'm afraid the detective has no idea how to have fun.'
'We could teach her.' Brogan's face squeezed into a grin like a compressed accordion.
'Yes, I suppose we can.' Cavanaugh crooked a corner of his mouth, a fleeting gesture. 'But this couldn't come at a worse time.'
'What do you need me to do . . . exactly?'
Although Brogan lacked imagination, he made up for his shortcoming with a genuine enthusiasm to execute a direct order. A quality Cavanaugh appreciated in a subordinate.
'To start, let's consolidate the merchandise. You know what to do. I can't have the police nosing around my affairs.'
Cavanaugh recognized the necessity for shoring up his defenses, but he resented his need to do so.
'How far do you want me to go . . . with the detective?'
He saw the glint in Brogan's dark eyes and marveled at what little it took to amuse him. Despite Brogan's eagerness, Cavanaugh wondered if he could entrust his well-being to such a man. He took a deep breath.
'I have some ideas on the subject. Pour a brandy for both of us, Mr. Brogan. Let's talk.'
Becca had to slow her steps as she trekked down the corridor to Lieutenant Santiago's office. Gauging by the play of light from a window, she knew his door was open. When she rounded the corner and stepped inside, Santiago looked up, his expression stern. But he wasn't alone.
'Detective Montgomery. Please come in and close the door.' Santiago gestured for her to sit. She shut the door but remained standing.
Paul Murphy, dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and his favorite red power tie, turned from the window as she entered the office. He leaned against the sill, arms crossed. Murphy stared at her, his expression blank. That surprised her. Normally, the man wore his smugness like an extra layer of skin. Arrogance fit him like a glove.
But the balding man to Murphy's left captured her attention. Tall and lanky, the older man wore his suit as if he were a human coat hanger. An unflattering cut couldn't be blamed for the guy's inability to fill it out. His dark eyes looked like two lumps of coal set amidst the deep wrinkles creasing his face. She got the distinct impression the lines were not caused by his stellar sense of humor. Becca extended her hand to force an introduction.
'I don't believe we've met. My name's Detective Rebecca . . .'
'I know who you are, Detective. Please take a seat.' He didn't reach for her hand.
'This is Mike Draper with the FBI's Criminal Investigative Division out of DC.'
Santiago made the one-sided introduction for her benefit. Without a word, Draper glared at her lieutenant, a look intended as a directive to get started. And Santiago complied, without so much as an insolent scowl.
'Draper has some questions for you. I expect your cooperation.' Santiago turned his gaze to the man standing near the window.
'Your investigation on the arson fire and the bones found at the theater. Brief me on the case and the meeting you had with Hunter Cavanaugh this morning,' Draper commanded.
'Sir, I can do that, but I'd rather talk about my sister's . . .'
'Your sister's investigation is off-limits to you. Now tell me about this case and Cavanaugh's involvement,' the man insisted.
Becca tried to read him, but the fed didn't allow it. Something was going down, and she wouldn't be a part of it. She took a seat in the chair nearest her. Becca stared at the men who would deny her and made a deliberate choice. She was damned tired of playing by their rules.
'Not much to report yet, sir. I've got an appointment with the Medical Examiner this afternoon. No ID on the victim. As you know, nothing much can happen until we get that identification.'
'Tell me about your meeting with Cavanaugh. What transpired?'
'We had coffee, sir,' she replied. In a roomful of interrogators, she had to remain calm, an open book. 'Cavanaugh seemed surprised to hear about the skeletal remains found after the fire. I don't think he's going to be much help. He's not even the owner of record for the property anymore. It's some kind of historical site.'
If Santiago had gotten a complaint from Cavanaugh, her lieutenant would know she had lied about not knowing the identity of the victim. Her lie by omission. He gave no sign of that, so she stuck with her makeshift game plan. Becca had grown accustomed to treading on thin ice.
'Is that all, Detective Montgomery?' Draper persisted. 'Do you suspect Hunter Cavanaugh of any wrongdoing on this case of yours?'
How much did this man know? If he or Murphy had dug around, they might know she had requested two archived boxes on missing persons. Would they call her bluff? To throw these men off their game, she decided to go on the offensive. After all, they had hit her broadside. Time to return the favor.
'At present, I don't have any reason to suspect Cavanaugh of anything.' She hadn't really lied. 'But I have some questions for you, sir.'
Becca leaned forward in her chair, placing an elbow on Santiago's desk, her eyes fixed on the fed. She didn't wait for Draper's permission to go on.
'Just now, you called the Imperial an arson fire. The final report isn't out yet. Why would you call it arson? And how did you hear about my visit to Cavanaugh this morning? I hadn't mentioned it to anyone. What's really going on here?'
Draper tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes. For a second, she saw his flinch of surprise, but the man recovered quickly. Even Santiago and Murphy reacted. She saw it from the corner of her eye. But hitting the bull's- eye wouldn't win her any prize.
'By the end of shift, you will turn over all your case notes to Murphy. Any files you've started on the fire and the skeletal remains will be his.'
'But, sir.' She looked at Santiago for help. 'Why am I being pulled off this case? I don't understand . . .'
Her lieutenant took back control of the meeting.
