Cavanaugh Cold Case by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t. He was a great deal more than that, Kristin thought grudgingly. Malloy Cavanaugh was all broad shoulders, a quirky, sexy smile and whimsical green eyes that she found vastly disturbing when they were turned on her.
    Her unbidden observation came out of nowhere, and she tried to banish it back to the same location, but without much success.
    This whole case was making her tired.
    â€œThese women weren’t smuggled in from outside the country.”
    The facts, Kris, deal with the facts. The scientific ones. It’s the only way you’re going to get him to go away.
    â€œHow do you know that?” Malloy asked, rounding the exam table in order to see what she was talking about.
    Kristin drew in a breath. Cavanaugh was standing way too close to her, but telling him to back off might start him thinking the wrong thing—or the right thing, as was the case. She decided it was best to keep silent on that score. The sooner she got him to leave, the better.
    â€œTheir teeth,” she pointed out. “The ones who have had dental work done show that whoever worked on them did a decent job. The others just have good teeth. That isn’t usually the case for those whose backgrounds include poverty and malnutrition.”
    He had an adequate enough imagination, but it was hard for him to envision the remains that were arranged on the exam tables once being living, breathing women.
    â€œSo it’s your opinion that this little band of not-so-merry women was homegrown?”
    Kristin bit back a comment about his choice of descriptive words. Instead, she forced herself to make a dispassionate comment. “Appears that way.”
    Okay, so far he had that the women were most likely from somewhere in the immediate area—or at least this country rather than somewhere out of the country, and that all of them, except for one, were women. It was something, he granted, but still not very much to go on.
    â€œCan you give me a rough estimate of when they were killed?” he asked.
    She really wished he’d take a few steps back and stop crowding her. But since he apparently wasn’t moving, as casually as she could manage, she did.
    â€œWell, it wasn’t all at the same time,” she told him. “My preliminary judgment would be that this happened between twenty and twenty-five years ago.”
    â€œSo this wasn’t a mass grave,” he speculated.
    His wording made her think. “More like a grave of opportunity,” she said. “The guy would keep coming back to bury his latest victim because apparently no one had discovered his previous transgressions.”
    The medical examiner’s conclusion interested him. He had no problem adjusting his own thinking to factor in good points. Ego had never been a problem with him. “What makes you so sure it’s the same guy?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” she admitted. “But judging from appearances—by that I mean the way he dismembered them—it looks that way,” she theorized. As if she suddenly realized what she was saying, Kristin stopped working and raised her eyes to his. “Are you through picking my brain, Detective?”
    â€œI haven’t even gotten started,” he told her honestly, flashing a grin that held a great deal of promise, as well as sizzle.
    Kristin found she had to struggle to ignore the unwanted effects he was having on her. How did she get rid of this man?
    â€œThat wasn’t really a question,” she told him. “Let me be more clear. You’re through picking my brain.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Doc?” he asked her good-naturedly. “Haven’t you ever heard of teamwork?”
    Her eyes narrowed to two blue lasers. “I have, Detective. Are you familiar with the concept of carrying someone?”
    He cocked his head, as if that would somehow help him get into her thoughts, and asked her innocently, “Is that an