“All right, here’s the name of the man who spearheaded the authorization to buy the Old Aurora Hotel.” Cahill’s beefy lips puckered into a frown. “I hope this concludes our business.”
“Our business,” Jackson said, sliding the sheet of paper closer to him and picking it up, “will be concluded when we find out who killed those people entombed in the hotel walls.”
The lawyer squared his shoulders like a soldier bracing for battle. “And when you find that out, I will expect a full apology for my client from both of you.”
Brianna took the sheet of paper from her partner and glanced at the name on it. “Thank you for this,” she said politely.
With that, she and Jackson left the man’s private office and made their way out to the main lobby and the elevators.
Jackson noticed that she’d folded the paper and put it into her shoulder bag. “The name Harold Harris mean anything to you?” he asked Brianna as they got on the elevator.
“Not yet,” Brianna answered.
Jackson reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor. She looked at the way Jackson’s breast pocket was vibrating. Again.
“Either you’re really excited to be on this elevator with me,” she commented, “or someone is trying to call you.”
The laugh was dry. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Jackson said, “but it’s my phone.”
The elevator car arrived on the ground floor and opened its door. Jackson was the first one out, a clear sign, as far as Brianna was concerned, that he was attempting to avoid her—or at least her questions.
Fat chance, Brianna thought.
“Don’t you want to answer that?” she asked. She did her best to lengthen her stride in order to catch up to him. Jackson was almost at the car.
“No.” The single word, prickly and sharp, hung in the air between them as they reached the car.
“No?” she repeated incredulously. Ringing phones were supposed to be answered. She’d never been able to ignore one herself. “It might be important. You’re not even checking to see who’s calling.”
And then suddenly Brianna said the first thing that occurred to her. “Girlfriend?”
It had to be a girlfriend calling him, otherwise why would Muldare be ducking the call like this? Men could be commitment-shy, and ducking calls was all part of that.
Jackson slanted an impatient look in her direction. “Why don’t you put that inquisitive mind of yours to work on solving this case?” Unlocking the door, he got in on the driver’s side.
“I can do both,” Brianna replied, getting into the passenger side. “On occasion, I’ve also been known to walk and chew gum at the same time, too.”
Jackson shook his head. “Knew there was a reason why they promoted you to detective.”
She saw that his breast pocket was vibrating again. It had stopped for a moment when he’d walked out of the elevator. That made three times, by her count.
“She’s not giving up,” she pointed out, amused.
Starting the vehicle, Jackson pulled out of the spot and out onto the main thoroughfare. Impatience gave way to mounting annoyance. He shot Brianna a black look.
“It’s not a she,” he informed her.
“Oh.” Even more questions began to fill her head, but she bit them back. Instead, she offered, “Anything I can do to help?”
“You can stop asking questions,” he snapped.
The vibrating began again. It was clear that the caller wasn’t letting up until Jackson picked up.
“If you want to take that, I can get out of the car while you talk.” Muldare just continued driving. “Of course, in order for me to do that, you’re going to have to stop the car,” Brianna pointed out. “I don’t bounce all that well.”
Jackson muttered something heated and unintelligible under his breath, then pulled sharply over to the right, temporarily stopping in the bicycle lane.
As he reached inside his pocket for his cell phone, Brianna opened the passenger door, fully intending to get out the way she’d offered. She was surprised when Jackson caught her arm. Turning to look at him, she saw him shake his head at her even as he answered his phone.
“I can’t talk now,” he said to whoever was on the other line the moment he answered.
Even though she didn’t want to eavesdrop, Brianna heard someone pleading, “You’ve gotta get me out of here, Jack. Please!”
“I’ll call you back later,” Jackson answered, measuring out each word as if there was a bitter taste to it.
Whoever was on the other end was saying something in response when Jackson terminated the call. Shoving the cell phone back into his pocket, he started the car and pulled away from the curb.
Brianna gave it a couple of seconds, but he clearly wasn’t about to say anything about the call. So she made an offer.
“Look, why don’t we go back to the precinct? You drop me off there so I can get my car, or at least another car if Del Campo isn’t back, and I’ll follow up with Harold Harris while you do what you need to do,” she concluded, waving at his phone.
“I am doing what I need to do,” Jackson informed her tersely. “I’m going with you to talk to this Harold Harris and find out if he knew anything that made him get the city to buy that old hotel.”
“I can go there alone,” Brianna stressed.
Making a right, Jackson glared at her for one fleeting moment. “The chief of Ds put us together on this for a reason. I’ve got to believe it’s not just so you can nag me.”
“I’m not nagging,” Brianna cried defensively. “But if you want nagging, Muldare, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Looking at his profile, she noticed his jaw hardening. He really did have chiseled features, she thought—and right now, a heart to match.
“You’re not going to ask me who that was?” he asked, referring to his phone call. He was surprised she wasn’t grilling him.
Naturally curious, it took everything for her to
