Deadly chase, p.1
Deadly Chase, page 1
“Well, it’s well past quitting time,” Shayla pointed out. “Time for all good little detectives to call it a night and go home.” She looked at her partner. “We could get started reading those reports first thing in the morning.”
“We could,” he agreed.
That did not sound convincing to her. “Why do I think that you plan to be up all night reading?” she asked.
He didn’t bother confirming or denying her supposition. Instead, he said, “Because you’re probably the most opinionated woman I’ve ever crossed paths with.”
Rather than take offense, Shayla pretended he had meant it as a joke. “Flatterer.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, shaking his head. “It wasn’t meant to be flattering.”
Shayla’s mouth curved. “I always try to make the best of a situation. Are you really determined to read through those reports you have?”
He knew he could just dismiss her assumption, but he also knew that she wouldn’t believe him. Those blue eyes of hers just seemed to have a way of looking straight into a man’s soul.
The idea both intrigued him and made him uncomfortable.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the world of the Cavanaughs. Shayla Cavanaugh (O’Bannon) is the baby of her branch of the family. She has just recently passed her detectives’ exam and her new career begins with a bang. Specifically, a serial killer has unexpectedly changed his hunting grounds from Los Angeles to Shayla’s hometown of Aurora. As it turns out, Shayla’s new partner is a recent transfer from Los Angeles himself and the Moonlight Killer, as the killer has been dubbed by the press, has followed him. Taunting Detective Gabriel Cortland is a perk the serial killer cannot do without. To that end, before moving on from Los Angeles, the Moonlight Killer added Detective Cortland’s wife to his tally, something that almost drove Cortland over the edge—until his determination to avenge his wife’s murder brought him back and gave him a reason to live.
Shayla sees the torment in her new partner’s eyes, and she is determined not just to help him track down the Moonlight Killer but also to help bring Cortland back among the living. He, of course, views her as meddlesome and interfering, but then, he has a lot to learn about both the Cavanaugh men and the Cavanaugh women. Come watch his education begin.
I hope you enjoy this newest saga about the Cavanaughs, and I hope that in writing it, I have managed in some small way to entertain you. Thank you, as always, for buying one of my books, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
Love,
Marie Ferrarella
CAVANAUGH JUSTICE:
DEADLY CHASE
Marie Ferrarella
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author Marie Ferrarella has written over three hundred books for Harlequin, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, marieferrarella.com.
Books by Marie Ferrarella
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Cavanaugh Justice
Cavanaugh’s Bodyguard
Cavanaugh Fortune
How to Seduce a Cavanaugh
Cavanaugh or Death
Cavanaugh Cold Case
Cavanaugh in the Rough
Cavanaugh on Call
Cavanaugh Encounter
Cavanaugh Vanguard
Cavanaugh Cowboy
Cavanaugh’s Missing Person
Cavanaugh Stakeout
Cavanaugh in Plain Sight
Cavanaugh Justice: The Baby Trail
Cavanaugh Justice: Serial Affair
Cavanaugh Justice: Deadly Chase
The Coltons of Colorado
Colton’s Pursuit of Justice
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
To Mama,
Who Gave Me
My First Agatha Christie Book
And Began My
Never-Ending
Love Affair With Murder Mysteries.
I Miss You, Mama,
More Than Words Can Ever Say—
Even Mine
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Excerpt from Cold Case Cowboy by Jennifer Morey
Prologue
It was back.
That itch, that need, that unshakable, overwhelming desire that always began small—sometimes no bigger than a tiny pinprick.
Hardly noticeable at all, he thought with a self-satisfied smile.
But that desire would continue to grow, consuming him until it was all he could think about. Morning, noon and night, it became his constant companion, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction, until that itch, that desire to watch a beautiful face begin to fade as the light slowly went out of that woman’s eyes, was all there was.
A light that was extinguished because he had been the one to put it out.
Well, technically, he corrected himself, the women were the ones who put that light out, because eventually when they were able to move again, they began to struggle. And when they did, they weren’t able to keep their legs up in a position that didn’t cause the thin rope he had artfully tied them up with to be pulled.
When that happened, they would wind up strangling themselves, no matter how hard they tried not to.
In some cases, it was a slow, drawn-out process accompanied by tears when the women he had chosen for this demise realized that there was no way out.
Usually, however, the end process was quick, because the woman who thrashed about thought if she moved with enough force, she could break the string.
The string never broke.
The last time around had wound up being so fast, he barely had enough time to make himself comfortable as he began to watch the young woman squirming about.
He felt cheated, like a boxing patron who had paid the high price of a ticket to watch an exclusive match only to have the match over in a matter of moments due to a well-placed knockout punch.
It had barely satisfied his need to exercise dominance over this holier-than-thou woman who enjoyed looking down her nose at him, acting as if he was less than the lint that accumulated on her clothing because of a faulty dryer.
Not one of these women whom he had ended had the brains of a canary, while he was the superior being, the one with not one science degree, but several. He was the one who could not only dispense the medication that some third-rate physician prescribed, but he actually knew how to mix the different ingredients together to create those medications if necessary.
The women who became his victims thought that because they were lucky enough, through no effort of their own, to have been gifted with great faces and fantastic bodies, that made them his superior. That gave them the right to look right past him as if he didn’t even exist.
They changed their minds quickly enough in their final hours, he thought with an almost gleeful smile.
After a moment, the smile turned dark.
They deserved what he did to them. Each and every one of them deserved to be on the receiving end of his wrath.
Except for one.
That had been a truly personal act, even though the woman had no idea who he was.
But her husband did.
What he had done was a warning to the man to get him to back off, that he was getting too close, although, now that he thought about it, the cat-and-mouse game between them did invigorate him.
Too bad the messenger had to be sacrificed, but that was the way it went sometimes.
Besides, he hadn’t gotten anything out of that particular kill. Killing that woman hadn’t satisfied the fire in his belly. If anything, it just made it grow larger.
He needed to feed that hunger.
Because he had a superior intellect, he knew when things were threatening to close in on him. So he had changed his hunting grounds.
He chuckled to himself. Just when those morons on the police force thought he was in one place, he had moved his location to another part of Southern California. It would take them weeks to make the connection.
Maybe longer.
Those simpletons never communicated with one another, he thought in satisfaction. Even in this high-tech world, so many things didn’t register or wound up falling through the cracks, and those morons on the police force just went stumbling off into the dark.
All except for one.
And now, it seemed that Cortland was back in the game.
And he was ready to play, he thought. Oh, so ready.
He felt the hunger in the
It had nothing to do with food.
It was time to leave the confines of his new quarters and start patrolling the streets, looking for the next woman who needed to be made to pay.
It was time to play the game again.
He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 1
Shayla Cavanaugh-O’Bannon, the youngest of Maeve Cavanaugh-O’Bannon’s five children, was admittedly also the sunniest of that subgroup that comprised the many, many members of the Cavanaugh clan, most of whom worked in some capacity for the ever-expanding Aurora police department.
Having recently aced her detective’s exam, the sharp, pretty, blue-eyed blonde was still learning her way around now that she was an active member of the homicide division and not just part of the uniformed police force.
From the first moment that she had joined up, Shayla had loved everything about being a law enforcement officer. She saw it as a way of being able to help people. Maeve’s youngest always focused on the positive aspects of every situation, no matter how dark that situation might seem at the outset.
Determined to make the best impression she could in her new position—there were those who felt that she had only gotten to where she was because of whom her uncle and the rest of her family were and not because of her own merit—Shayla had come in early, which meant that she had gone for her customary run almost in the dark. Invigorated, she’d gotten ready and was at her desk, completing some paperwork.
Paperwork was regarded as the bane of every living law enforcement agent’s existence.
She had just decided to get some coffee to help fully focus her brain when she looked up and saw a dark-haired, exceedingly handsome and moody-looking well-dressed man walk by. She was vaguely aware that a new detective had transferred from Los Angeles, although she hadn’t met him yet.
His eyes flickered over her for the briefest of moments, but if her presence had registered—Shayla offered him a bright, wide smile—he gave no indication of it. The newcomer just continued walking.
Coffee mug in hand, the twenty-eight-year-old newly minted detective turned and watched the unsmiling man’s progress as he walked out the squad room’s door and down the hall and then disappeared.
Shayla had always been a sponge when it came to information, whether it was just harmless office gossip or key information that could very well be crucial when it came to solving a case, Shayla took everything in. Which was why, after a moment’s pause, she turned toward her older brother Ronan, who just happen to be standing next to her at the coffee machine, and asked, “Is that him?”
The question, coming out of the blue the way it did, caught Ronan completely off guard. Lost in his own thoughts, he had been busy trying to come up with an anniversary gift for his wife, Sierra. He blinked and looked at his sister, whom everyone in the family still thought of as the baby of the group.
“Him who?” Ronan asked. Looking around, he didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary in the room—just the same faces he was accustomed to seeing on a more or less daily basis.
“The new guy,” Shayla answered, turning back to face her brother, since the person she was asking about had just left the squad room.
She assumed that the new detective was most likely on his way to see the chief of detectives, Brian Cavanaugh.
“Gabriel Cortland—the detective who just transferred here from LA,” she elaborated when her brother just continued to look at her, apparently waiting for more input before answering. “What do you know about him?” Shayla asked.
Ronan absently shrugged his broad shoulders. “Only that Cortland was the one who requested the transfer from his old precinct. Word has it he was a really sharp, first-class detective before he fell into the bottle. Almost drank himself to death, but then one day he just decided to get his act together and sober up. And when he did, he put in for a transfer.
“Oh, yeah, and one more thing,” her brother added as an after thought. But then he paused, his voice lingering.
Sometimes, getting information out of her brothers was like attempting to drill for water in a well that gave all the appearances of having gone dry, Shayla thought. But she refused to let Ronan see her get frustrated.
“Oh?” she prodded. “And just what is that one thing?”
“Cortland doesn’t talk much. Or, from what I hear, practically at all,” Ronan told her, draining the last of the coffee from his large mug.
He had a feeling if he didn’t leave right now, his sister would just continue asking him questions.
Shayla looked down the hall, despite the fact that the person she was asking about was long gone at this point.
“In other words,” she murmured, “a challenge.”
“No,” her brother told her, “in other words, I’d suggest leaving the man alone. Detective Cortland doesn’t strike me as someone who would be a happy recipient of your endless sunshine. They haven’t made the kind of sunglasses that can block what you give off.”
That didn’t begin to convince her that she should back off, not that Ronan had thought that it would. He viewed his youngest sister the same way everyone else in the family did—Shayla was bright and cheery and the absolute definition of unyielding stubbornness once she set her mind on something.
The next words out of Shayla’s mouth proved it. “That just tells me that the poor man needs to be subjected to that sunshine, as you put it, even more.”
About to leave, Ronan paused and gave her a weary look. “Don’t you ever come off that cloud of yours?”
“No. Why should I? I don’t view the world as a dark, hopeless place,” she said in all sincerity.
Ronan almost laughed at her reply. What stopped him was that he believed she honestly meant what she said, which was incredible, yet in a way, he had to admit, also kind of heartwarming.
“Given what you do for a living—what we all do,” he amended, “that’s rather amazing. You are definitely one of a kind, Shayla.”
“I really would like to change that,” she told her brother with feeling.
“I’m sure you would,” he answered. “I’ve got to go, Shayla. If I do hear anything more about Cortland, I’ll pass it on to you,” he promised just before he disappeared down the same hallway that the other detective had taken.
Except that unlike the detective under discussion, Ronan was only on his way to the elevator.
Shayla sat at her newly assigned desk—there hadn’t been a place for her when she had initially been placed in Homicide until almost a month had gone by.
She remained at her desk for another half hour. At that point, she had finished filling out the paperwork—which wasn’t due until tomorrow, at least not by anyone’s standards except for her own. Thanks to the work ethic that her mother had instilled in her when she was a little girl, Shayla didn’t believe in being on time. She believed in being early—always. To her way of thinking, being early left her time to tackle other things if they came up unexpectedly.
Right now, she was having trouble focusing her attention on anything other than the incredibly sad look in the newly transferred detective’s eyes. Try as she might, Shayla couldn’t remember ever seeing sadness to that degree.
Oh, to be sure, she had definitely seen sadness before. There was no way she could have been part of the police force without having come in contact with people who had been touched by the ravages of sadness to a lesser or greater degree.
Shayla could remember that look in her mother’s eyes when she had received word that their father, a police officer, had been killed in the line of duty.
Eventually, that sadness had faded to some degree.
But the look in Gabriel Cortland’s eyes seemed as if it was deeply embedded and very possibly to remain there indefinitely. It wasn’t anything that the detective had said—they hadn’t exchanged any words—it was just a feeling she’d had during that briefest of moments when their eyes had met in passing.
Still, she knew that man was sad. She would bet anything on it. Somehow, some way, she was going to make it her mission to find out what had caused that look, that sadness, to take root. Because if she didn’t know what was behind it, she wouldn’t be able to help him get beyond it.
