Cavanaugh's Surrender

“Not saying we didn’t,” Logan replied to his father, deliberately flying above this minefield. “But I’ve got to say that I’m really surprised that you’re considering it.”

“Not considering it,” Sean corrected, putting down his fully loaded case that he meticulously organized at least once a week. “But well, what happens when I’m not looking, happens,” he told his son innocently. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe the actual scene of the crime is in through there?” He pointed to the bedroom, looking to Destiny for confirmation.

Destiny only half nodded. “That’s the way to the bathroom,” she confirmed. “Whether or not that’s the actual scene of the crime remains to be seen.”

Sean gave her an encouraging smile. “An open mind is the best way to approach anything,” he agreed.

With that, he walked ahead of his son and the young woman to process this particular crime scene.

Chapter 2

Following Sean Cavanaugh through the bedroom and into the bathroom where her sister’s body was, Destiny could feel every single bone in her own body stiffening as the battle began all over again. Her protective instincts warred with the ones she had developed as a crime scene investigator.

The latter dictated adherence to the first cardinal rule of investigation: that nothing was to be touched, nothing was to be moved. It was of the utmost importance that the scene be preserved just as it was when the deceased died. This had to be done to piece together facts leading up to that person’s final moments. And, with that, the identity of the killer, if there was one.

But Destiny’s protective instincts were just as deeply rooted within her, if not more so. She was the older sister, the one who had always looked out for Paula.

Yeah, and how’s that going for you? Destiny silently mocked herself.

Being the older sister hadn’t been easy. Though she had never doubted her sister’s love for her, Paula had fought her all the way, desperately wanting to assert her independence.

“I’m a big girl now, Destiny. You can’t hover over me forever.”

Destiny could feel the corners of her eyes beginning to sting again as she struggled for the umpteenth time to hold back her tears.

Yeah, well, you would have done better if I had hovered, Destiny couldn’t help thinking now. There was no doubt in her mind that Paula would be alive right now if she had hovered.

If.

Her protective instincts had made her want to cover Paula up, to give her sister some small semblance of modesty and dignity by draping something over her—at least a towel. She didn’t want to leave her where everyone coming into the beige-and-blue-tiled bathroom could see her like this, utterly naked and exposed.

As if sensing her turmoil, Sean told her, “I promise I’ll make this as quick as I can, Destiny.”

She was grateful to him for his kindness. Pressing her lips together, Destiny nodded, doing her best to smile her thanks and succeeding only marginally.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely.

Logan, who had entered behind his father and the victim’s sister, squatted down now, his attention focused on the opened cell phone that apparently had slipped from the dead woman’s hand just as life had ebbed away from her.

The cell phone was in the open position and it was still turned on. As he crouched closer to it, Logan could see that there was a text message on the screen. One last message just before death had found her.

Was it a last-minute regret and a plea for help? Or was this intended to be a virtual version of a suicide note?

Using his handkerchief to keep from getting his fingerprints on the phone or contaminating any prints besides the victim’s on the device, Logan was about to pick it up when he stopped and looked over toward his father. “Did you already take a picture of this?”

“Tagged and photographed,” Sean answered as he continued examining Destiny’s sister.

Logan lifted the phone and looked at the screen. There were only three words in the text message: He left me.

“We need to find out who this number belongs to,” Logan said, thinking out loud as he examined the cell number the message had been sent to.

“Not necessary,” Destiny told him stoically.

Each word she uttered felt as if it scraped along an incredibly dry tongue. Her whole mouth felt like a desert in the midst of a seven-year drought. And she was having trouble getting air into her lungs. Part of her was numb, the other was almost on fire.

“She texted you?” Logan guessed, glancing toward her and reading her body language.

Right now, the woman appeared to be shut down tighter than Fort Knox. Logan absently wondered what it would take to loosen her up, then dismissed the thought since right now, knowing that wasn’t going to help him. Thinking of her as a woman was completely out of line. She was the victim’s sister and his father’s assistant, nothing else.

At least, not right now.

Logan caught himself hoping that there would be a later.

Destiny heard the detective’s voice as if it had originated in an echo chamber. It sounded as if it was coming at her from a great distance.

She blinked, forcing herself to stay focused. If she let her mind wander, she wouldn’t make it out of this room without coming apart. She’d already cried once. That was all she could afford to grieve. She had work to do.

“Yes, it’s my number. I called her back almost immediately after she sent the message, but she didn’t pick up.” She pressed her lips together, taking a breath before continuing. Her voice sounded strained. “I’d been calling her all day without a response, so I got worried.”

“Why?” Logan asked. “Was she unstable? Were you afraid that she was likely to harm herself?”

Destiny stared at him. What was he talking about? He didn’t know Paula. He had no right to his assumptions. She took offense at the implication behind his questions.

“I got worried because I’m her sister,” she retorted angrily. “Because Paula normally keeps in touch. And she doesn’t send short text messages.” The three-word text was out of character for Paula. “She goes on and on, whether it’s a phone call, a text or in person. My sister is—was,” she corrected herself painfully, “not a person of a few words. She never said anything in three words that she could say in forty.”

He thought of pointing out that distraught people, especially people about to commit suicide, didn’t always conform to their normal behavior, but he had a feeling she wasn’t in the mood to be contradicted.

Instead, he focused on another piece of the puzzle. “Who’s this ‘him’ she’s referring to?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

Destiny took a deep breath, angry with herself for not having pushed when Paula had opted to keep the man’s name a secret. If she’d badgered Paula enough, she knew Paula would have finally caved in. Why hadn’t she pushed? Why had she just elected to respect her sister’s boundaries? At the very least, this mystery man of Paula’s could give them insight to her frame of mind the last time he saw her as he left.

If he’d left her, Destiny amended, ruling out nothing.

“You don’t know?” Logan echoed, more than mildly surprised. “Then you two weren’t close?” That was the only conclusion he could draw.

“No, we were,” Destiny insisted. “Very close.” They had been that way once and they had gotten that way again just in the past couple of years.

“Then why don’t you know the name of the guy your sister was seeing?”

Because I’m an idiot.

“Paula was a little superstitious. She said she didn’t want to jinx the relationship by saying anything about it too soon.”

God, that sounded so lame, so childish now that she said it out loud, Destiny thought, on the edge of exasperated despair. Why hadn’t she pushed? Insisted? Maybe if she’d known more of the details, she could have somehow prevented this. Even though she didn’t believe in her heart of hearts that her sister had done this, had committed suicide, a tiny part of her was afraid she had.

“All she’d tell me was that he was someone ‘important.’ And, that for now, he wanted to keep their relationship ‘special’ by keeping it out of the public eye. Apparently, I was part of the public eye,” Destiny said with barely controlled frustration.