“The mayor,” Brian answered after a long moment had passed. “And certain members of the city council. They’re afraid this investigation might offend the Aurora family. And that, in turn, might make the family close its coffers the next time the city finds itself needing extra money—and the city always seems to need extra money.”
Brianna stared at the man. His expression was difficult to read. She knew what she wanted it to say, but wishing didn’t make it so, and she needed to be sure.
“Are you saying you want us to stop the investigation?” Brianna asked.
“I’m saying that if there’s any possible way for you to do this, I want you—” his eyes swept over his niece as well as the detective working with her “—to find out who’s responsible for these murders.
“I don’t care if most of the crimes are over thirty years old. People were deprived of their lives and sealed inside those walls. That kind of thing belongs in an Edgar Allan Poe story, not in my city,” he said with passion. “Whatever you need, you’ll get. Just find who did this. And if the answer winds up making waves for the Aurora family, well, that can’t be helped. I won’t have the truth buried in order to spare anyone embarrassment. Have I made myself clear?”
“Perfectly.” Brianna and Jackson said the word almost in unison.
Brian smiled, satisfied he’d made his point. “Good,” he pronounced. “Now find the killer,” he instructed. “Oh,” he suddenly remembered just before they reached the door. “One more thing.”
Brianna turned back around first, followed a second later by Jackson. They both remained where they were, waiting.
His almost grim look gave way to a far more sunny expression. “It seems that my older brother, Andrew, feels we all need a respite, especially in light of this gruesome case.”
Brianna knew what the man seated on the other side of the desk was getting at before he said another word, but because this was his office, and because Jackson was most likely unfamiliar with the social habits of her extended family, she quietly waited for Brian to continue what he was about to say.
“He’s having a gathering Saturday, at his place. Everyone’s invited, as usual. And if you’re unclear about what I am saying, this also means you, Detective Muldare,” he told the man standing just behind Brianna. “All right,” he told them. “Now you can go.”
For a moment, Jackson made no comment as they left the chief of Ds’ office.
And then, just as Brianna was about to ask him if he’d understood what her uncle had just said, Jackson looked at her, astonished. “He was kidding, right?”
“Which part?” Brianna asked innocently.
“You know damn well which part,” Jackson bit off. “The part where I’m supposed to turn up at a so-called gathering.” He jabbed the down button with his index finger.
“No, he wasn’t kidding about that,” she informed Jackson calmly, her tone directly in contrast to his. “He was serious.” She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in before she added, “And, since he asked you in person, you really do need to show up.”
Jackson didn’t like being backed into a corner, especially since there was so much in his life that he wasn’t able to control.
“Why?” he asked. “Why would it matter to him one way or another?”
She lifted her shoulders, then let them drop again. “Maybe he feels you need to socialize a little with your fellow cops.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “You talked to him about me, didn’t you?”
“Nope. Not a word,” Brianna answered, elaborately crossing her heart.
“The man’s got a hell of a lot of people under his command. How would he even know that I need to socialize?”
Brianna spread her hands wide as they got off the elevator.
“He’s the chief of Ds. He knows everything.” She said it so seriously, for a minute, Jackson found himself almost believing her.
“Then he knows I won’t come,” Jackson concluded, thinking that was finally the end of it.
One look at Brianna’s face as they went outside told him that it wasn’t.
“No,” she contradicted. “He knows that you will.” Brianna told him that with such calm certainty, he could have sworn he heard the jaws of a trap snapping shut around him.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” Brianna assured him as they continued walking toward his vehicle. “It’ll only be for a few hours.” She was lying about that, but he didn’t need to know. “Think of it as on-the-job training.”
About to get into the driver’s seat, he stopped to glare at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What kind of training?”
She smiled as she got into the car on the other side. “Mingling with your fellow officers and detectives without snarling.”
“Aren’t these things supposed to be for the family?” he asked. Maybe she was just putting him on about having to show up no matter what.
“Uncle Andrew is the one who initially began having these gatherings years back, right after he took early retirement in order to raise his kids. Before he did that, he was the chief of police. And as the chief of police, he regarded everyone under his command as family. So,” she told him as he started the car, “like it or not, you, Detective Jackson Muldare, are family, as far as Andrew Cavanaugh is concerned. And between you and me, the chief of Ds likes to keep his older brother happy. Long story short—”
“It’s too late for that,” Jackson told her dourly as a dark expression descended over his face.
Brianna didn’t pay any attention to him. Instead, she concluded what she was trying to tell him. “Long story short, you’re coming to the gathering.”
Chapter 12
Jackson was in no mood to be trapped in his car, listening to Brianna go on and on about his so-called mandatory attendance at something he had no desire or intention of attending.
“Do you mind if we table
