Cavanaugh on Duty by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online

to be safe. That is all I want. Now that you are doing something ‘different,’ I will be able to sleep again at night,” Miguel told him. “And as far as hellholes go, some of the others here tell me it’s not so bad.”
    “Still, all it takes is one guard, one inmate who has your number...” He didn’t want to dredge up any details to frighten Miguel, just make him aware that there could be problems even down the line. “And if anyone gives you a hard time, I don’t care who it is, you’ll tell me, right?”
    Miguel looked at him with an innocent smile. “Who else would I tell?”
    The answer made Esteban even more skeptical than he already was. Miguel would keep the fact that someone was on his case a secret, just to protect him. That was the kind of father he was. But he didn’t want him having to endure anything. Just being locked up was difficult enough on the man.
    “Dad—” There was a warning note in his voice.
    The buzzer sounded, calling an end to the visit. “I have to get back to my cell,” Miguel said, using the sound as an excuse not to answer his son. “Come again when you can. Looking forward to your visits is what keeps me going,” the older man said, rising from the table . “Vaya con Dios, mi hijo,” he said just before he fell into formation again. Within moments, the orange line was marched out of the common room.
    Y tu tambien, Padre, Esteban thought, watching Miguel leave. “And you, too, Dad,” he murmured out loud.
    * * *
    For what felt like the umpteenth time, Kari glanced up from her desk to the one butted against hers and sighed.
    The chair facing hers was still empty.
    The desktop was glaringly clear, save for the run-of-the-mill computer monitor and the single white coffee container perched in the middle of the scarred tabletop.
    The coffee was her combination welcome-to-the-job/peace offering.
    The dark-roasted blend that she’d picked up at a local coffee shop and placed on what was to be Esteban’s desk was probably cold by now. Standing unattended for over an hour, even though there was a lid on it, did that to any drink, even one that had started out scalding hot.
    She had gotten it on the way to work because she thought Esteban might appreciate something a little better than the sickly brown liquid that came out of the precinct’s vending machines and was laughingly passed off as coffee.
    She made the choice going on instinct rather than any information she had gleaned. When she’d gone to Brenda for Esteban’s address, she’d also asked for any background information on him that might be available. There was none.
    Technically speaking, that actually hadn’t been exactly the case. There was some information, but whatever had been originally written down on the page had subsequently been redacted. Every line of type had been run through with a black permanent marker that promised not to disappear or fade over time.
    So she had gone with her gut. Men like the one she’d met with last night—the man she still thought could be the Steve Fernandez she’d gone to high school with—didn’t care for any frills. That included fancy rhetoric and coffee that bore a longer, fancier name than some people she knew.
    The coffee was black...just like the mood that was slowly coming over her.
    When she’d departed his house last night, she’d been fairly confident that she’d gotten Fernandez to come around, to connect with her on the most basic level. Having her body tingle for more than an hour after she’d left him had been a small price to pay.
    But now she was beginning to think that maybe she’d been wrong about his coming around, and it bothered her more than she cared to admit. To her way of thinking, she’d dropped the ball.
    She didn’t like letting the Chief of D’s down, not because he was her uncle—or because she felt she had something to prove so she’d move up the food chain within the department. She didn’t like letting the Chief down,