"I'm worried about her, Brian." Lila Cavanaugh's
eyes met her husband's in the long mirror that hung over the
double, ice-blue-tiled sink in their bathroom. "She's
never behaved like this before." They both hurried to
get ready, to arrive at work early for completely different
reasons.
Brian Cavanaugh, the Aurora Police Department's Chief of
Detectives and, technically, Lila's superior, at least at
the precinct, didn't have to ask his wife who
she
was, despite the fact that Lila's declaration had come
out of the blue.
Lila referred to her younger daughter, Riley McIntyre.
Riley, like her three siblings as well as her mother, was a
detective on the police force and ultimately under Brian
Cavanaugh's command. Until a couple of months ago, the
twenty-eight-year-old had been a happy-go-lucky, outgoing
and upbeat young woman who greeted every morning with a grin
and a wisecrack. Her deep blue eyes always sparkled. If
Brian were to single out the stepchild with the most
optimistic, positive view of life, it would have been Riley.
But the recent murder of her new partner, Detective Diego
Sanchez, by the very serial killer that she and the rest of
the homicide task force were pursuing at the time, had
changed all that. Riley had become quiet, introspective and,
at times, just plain unreachable.
It concerned him, as well.
In a way, she reminded him of his niece, Rayne, the youngest
of his older brother, Andrew's, children. Right after her
mother had disappeared and was presumed dead, Rayne began to
act out, getting in trouble with the police despite the fact
that Andrew was Aurora's Chief of Police at the time.
Fortunately, Rayne had straightened out over time and made
them all proud.
Granted, Riley wasn't acting out, but there was no denying
that she was dealing with an excessive amount of emotional
turmoil.
Was the change in her behavior permanent or temporary?
"She keeps saying she's all right, but I know she's
not," Lila insisted. She gave up the pretense of
applying her makeup and turned to face her husband. "I
don't want her on the street like that, Brian. Being out
there is hard enough when you're at the top of your game,
let alone being off the way she seems to be these days."
Lila hated asking for favors, even from her own husband, but
this was for her daughter. "As her superior, can't you
order her to take some time off until she's her old self
again?"
Lila had long since accepted and made peace with the fact
that her children had all followed her late husband and her
into the police force. She did her best not to worry about
them too much. But this new turn of events had thrown the
balance off and she sincerely feared for Riley's well-being,
not to mention her life.
"I could," Brian allowed slowly. His eyes met
Lila's. "But I won't."
Disappointment sliced through her clear down to the bone.
She had counted on his agreeing with her. "But
Brian—"
"Lila, put yourself in Riley's place. When you were shot
and almost died on me all those years ago, how did you feel,
having all that time to think about what'd happened?" He
deliberately made no reference to how he'd felt, watching
her sink to the ground, or what had gone through his mind as
his own hands tried to stop the bleeding, to desperately
keep her life from flowing out of her body.
Her mouth turned grim. "Awful," Lila finally conceded.
And she had continued to feel that way long after she'd
recuperated from her gunshot wound. Ben McIntyre, her first
husband, had used the shooting to manipulate her. Jealous of
what he thought was her relationship with Brian, her partner
at the time, Ben had forced her to quit the force in order
to become a full-time wife and mother. While she loved her
children, she hated being away from the life that gave hers
such meaning.
Giving up the force made her feel like only half a person.
"What I can do," Brian said, "is make Riley's
status contingent on seeing the department's therapist."
"Hoolihan?" Even as she said the man's name, Lila
shook her head. Her frown further underscored her disapproval.
Brian thought of himself as a fair man and he was always
willing to listen to an opposing point of view. Turning
around to face his wife, he leaned a hip against the sink
and crossed his arms before his still rather buff chest.
"Okay, what's wrong with Hoolihan?" Brian asked.
After she'd been shot and before Ben had forced her to
resign from the force, she'd seen the therapist on her own.
She remembered it being a less-than-rewarding experience.
"Well, for one thing, I doubt if anyone but a robot
could relate to the man." The session—and the
man's cold, dead eyes—had left a bad taste in her
mouth that existed to this day. "He's impersonal,
removed and, frankly, the man gives me the creeps."
Brian thought it over for a moment. His own encounters with
the therapist were limited to run-ins in the hall and an
exchange of nods. He was in no position to champion the man.
"All right, we'll find someone else for Riley. That'll
be your assignment," he said affectionately, punctuating
the declaration with a quick kiss to her temple.
The corners of Lila's mouth lifted as she fisted one hand at
her hip. "And what'll you be doing while I'm searching
for a sympathetic ear for Riley?"
"You mean what'll I be doing aside from the massive task
of directing the detectives of all the departments?" he
deadpanned. He thought of the reason he was going in so
early. "I'll be making the final decision regarding
finding our daughter a new partner."
Lila smiled. She liked his reference to Riley as "our
daughter" despite the fact that their combined families
consisted of eight adult children and he could have just as
easily divided the two factions into "your kids" and
"my kids." Instead, they became "ours." That
was just the Cavanaugh way and it was only one of the many
reasons why she loved this man so much.
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Lila asked, curious.
He looked back into the mirror to make sure he'd shaved
evenly. "Yes, I have someone very definite in mind."
"Do I get a name, or do I have to guess?" she asked.
Brian looked away from the mirror. There was a glimmer in
his eyes. "Depends on what you're willing to trade for
the information," he teased.
Lila glanced at her watch. "We're both due at the
precinct in half an hour," she pointed out.
Wide shoulders rose and fell in a pseudo-careless shrug.
"Lots of things can be accomplished in a small amount of
time, Mrs. Cavanaugh," he told her just as he began to
skim his lips lightly along her neck.
He could make her heart race so easily, Lila thought.
She doubted if she would ever get used to this. Or take it
for granted.
"So, we're skipping breakfast," she said with minor
difficultly as he stole her breath away.
"Not always the most important meal of the day," he
told her, slowly working his way around her throat. He
lifted up her chin with the tip of his finger to expose more
of the targeted area.
Lila gave up the pretense of leaving the house on time. She
wove her arms around her husband's neck.
"Consider it skipped," she breathed, giving in to
temptation.
"But I didn't put in for a transfer," Riley
protested, stunned.
She was sitting in her stepfather's office. That morning
she'd found a message on her desk saying that the Chief of
Detectives wanted to see her. She'd come knowing that this
had to be something official because if it was anything
else, Brian would have picked up the telephone and called
her at home to discuss it.
But she'd never expected to be hit with this.
"I know you didn't." Brian's voice was kind, but
firm. "I decided to do it for you."
Riley had never been big on change, especially not now.
"I've been assigned to Homicide ever since I made
detective." A feeling of desperation began to sink hooks
into her. She did her best to bank down the feeling.
"Have I done something wrong? Because if I have, just
tell me what it is and I'll—"
Brian cut her off. "No, nothing. You haven't done
anything wrong, Riley," he emphasized. "You're an
asset to the force and, most likely, this is only a
temporary assignment. Robbery is currently shorthanded."
He paused for a moment before adding, "And you need a
change."
He saw her shoulders stiffen, as if his words had been a
physical blow.
"I just need to get back in the saddle," Riley insisted.
"You never got out of the saddle, Riley," Brian
contradicted. "You didn't take any time off after
Sanchez was killed, even when I encouraged you. And I
understand that. You're one of those people who needs to be
busy in order to deal with something unpleasant that's
bothering you." He smiled at her. "You're not all
that different than I am in this respect," he
acknowledged. Getting out of his chair and from behind his
desk, he drew closer to her. "This isn't punishment,
Riley. This is taking a breather, getting a change of
pace—and doing me a favor," he added for good
measure, hoping that would help her.
Riley took a breath. This was the man who had brightened her
mother's world a thousandfold. The man who had always been
more of a father to her and her brothers and sister than her
own father had been. Brian was doing what he thought was
best for her, but she didn't want to give up her routine,
didn't want to be away from people she was accustomed to
working with. This was
not the time for her to
build new relationships.
Still, when he put it like that, it was hard turning the
Chief down—even though she knew what was really behind
his so-called request. And "favors" had nothing to
do with it.
Sighing, she realized she had no choice but to relent. Riley
nodded. "All right, if it's really that important, I
guess I can work in the robbery division—but just
until you get someone else to fill the position."
"Thank you. I knew I could count on you," he told
her. She noticed that he didn't agree with her about the
temporariness of the situation. Instead, he seemed to be
waiting a beat, then continued. "And there's something
else."
She
knew it. Riley looked at her stepfather warily.
"What?"
"Nothing major," he assured her. "I want you to
see a therapist."
Riley closed her eyes, searching for strength. "Oh, God,
Chief, not Hoolihan."
"No," he agreed with a laugh, "not Hoolihan.
Your mother already made that case for you," he
explained when she eyed him curiously.
"Mother?" Riley repeated quietly.
So they were both conspiring against her, she thought,
feeling more alone than ever. She loved them both, but
didn't they understand that she'd deal with this on her own
terms? In her own way? That it was just going to take her
time to forget the image of Diego, lying in the alley, in a
pool of his own blood, a stake driven through his heart like
some character in a grade B horror movie?
This wasn't a head cold she was trying to get over but a
huge case of guilt. She should have been watching his back.
Brian nodded. "She made me see that talking to Hoolihan
wasn't going to help. Your mother suggested that you find
someone in private practice to help you deal with this."
Riley squared her shoulders in a defensive movement that, at
one time or another, he'd seen his own four kids make.
"But I am dealing with this."
Brian knew that he could successfully argue the case, but he
merely said, "Humor me."
Riley sighed. She was stuck.
"How long do I have to find this 'shrink'?" She
couldn't get herself to even say the word
"therapist." Acknowledging the word would be like
admitting that she needed help and she didn't. She just
needed time, that was all.
"I would have preferred yesterday," Brian told her
honestly, "but let's just say you need to find one by
the end of the week."
She was definitely not looking forward to the search.
"Yes, sir."
"Good, that's what I like to hear. Now, about your new
partner—temporary partner," he threw in when he
saw her grip the armrests and rise in her seat.
Sitting back down, Riley continued gripping the armrests as
if ready to rip them out. "I don't need a partner,"
she protested with feeling. "I can work on my own."
"That's not how this operates, Riley, and you know it.
The only time a detective goes solo is if his—or
her—partner calls in sick for the day. We work in
teams, Riley, we always have," he reminded her.
"Homicide, Robbery, Vice, it doesn't matter what
department, the procedure is the same."
Because he was a man she respected as well as loved, she
decided to be honest with him, to bare her soul for the
moment. "Chief, if something happens to my partner right
now, I don't think I'm up to handling that."
"Which is why I said you need to see a therapist,"
Brian reminded her gently.
"Besides," a deep voice behind Riley said,
"nothing's going to happen to me, although I'm touched
that you're concerned."
Intent on making her point with the Chief, Riley hadn't
heard anyone behind her. The voice, coming out of the blue
the way it did, nearly made her jump. At the same time, she
realized that it sounded vaguely familiar.
Riley twisted around in her chair just in time to see
Detective Sam Wyatt stride in, then lean his long, muscular
frame against the doorjamb. He'd filled out some since she'd
last seen him.
"Morning, Chief," Sam said, nodding at Brian.
"You sent for me?"
"Always know how to make an entrance, don't you,
Detective Wyatt?" Brian said with a shake of his head.
He gestured to the chair beside Riley. "Sit down,"
he instructed.
"Yes, sir." He deposited his body into the vacant
chair, sparing Riley a nod. "And as for making an
entrance, in this case, I had to, sir.
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