Cavanaugh Standoff

“I will,” she promised, the keys clicking beneath her fingers. “In a minute.”

Ronan got off her desk. Moving behind it, he bent and flipped a switch on the power strip beneath her desk.

“Now,” he ordered, getting up.

Her jaw dropped. “You just shut off my computer,” she complained.

He appeared completely unfazed by the accusation in her voice. “I gave you a direct order and you ignored it.”

She drew herself up, ready to go a few rounds with this annoying man. “You’re lead detective, not my supreme leader,” she informed him hotly.

A hint of a smile played along his lips. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

With that, he turned away and began to walk out of the squad room.

She raised her voice as she called after him. “I know your mother and I’ll tell her what a hard time you’ve been giving me.”

Ronan turned then and slowly crossed back to her desk. “Did you just threaten me with my mother?” he asked in disbelief. “What are we, twelve?”

She braced herself. “I’m not. But I’m not sure about you.”

“You’re tired. I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. Now go home.”

He might be the lead detective and in charge, but she was not about to be intimidated. “Why are you acting like I’m the invading force?”

“Because you’re the invading force,” he retorted. He’d had no choice in the matter when Carver had brought her over. He had to work with her and he didn’t appreciate not being given a choice.

“Hey, you’re a Cavanaugh,” she reminded him. “Nobody invades you,” she pointed out. “You guys practically are the police department. I’m just trying to do my part. I don’t want the credit,” she stressed. “You can have the credit for solving this thing.”

“This isn’t about credit,” he informed her, annoyed she thought that way.

“Then what is it about?” she demanded, confused. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be in the same space with me?”

Denial was on his tongue but he never voiced it. Possibly because she’d stumbled onto something. “Because you remind me of someone,” he finally said, struggling to keep from yelling the words at her.

“Who?”

“Someone,” was all he trusted himself to say and then, before she could attempt to grill him any further, he stalked out.

“That’s not an answer!” she countered.

Grabbing her bag, Sierra quickly headed out of the squad room after him.

But when she got to the hallway, Ronan was nowhere to be seen.

He’d probably caught the elevator. For a second she thought of taking the stairs and ambushing him on the ground floor, but she had a feeling that would just lead to more of the same. He wasn’t about to tell her anything. Most likely, he regretted having said as much as he had just now.

The bottom line was that she needed answers and O’Bannon wasn’t about to give them to her.

But she thought she knew someone who just might be able to.

Taking the elevator to the ground floor, she hurried to the parking lot and made her way to her car. Once she got into her vehicle, she put her key in the ignition but she didn’t start the engine.

Instead she took out her cell phone and placed a call.

Once the call connected, she heard a deep, gravely voice answer. “Carlyle.”

“Hi, Dad,” she said with more cheer than she was feeling. “It’s me. Sierra.”

“Sierra?” her father repeated. “Wait, wait, I know that name, just give me a second. Sierra, Sierra—” he repeated as if doing that would unearth some memories, help him recall who she was.

“Very funny, Dad. Okay, I know I haven’t called or been by lately, but I’ve been a little busy,” she told him.

“I take it that the police department has been working you hard, chaining you to your desk and all that. Okay, so why is the black sheep of the family suddenly calling me?”

He’d called her that the day she had told him she was applying to the police academy instead of signing up for the fire department like the rest of her family. In time, he’d come to terms with it, but he still wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“Dad, I work in the police department, not for some escort service. There’s no reason to call me a black sheep.”

“Sure there is,” the deep voice rumbled in her ear. “You didn’t go into the family business the way you were supposed to.”

Sierra sighed. “This is why I don’t call very often,” she told her father.

“Okay, okay, I’ll make nice,” her father promised. “To what do I owe this unexpected but delightful call?”

“You’re laying it on way too thick, Dad, but I’ll let that ride for now. I need your help,” she said seriously. “I want you to find something out for me.”

“You mean like detective work?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his voice. “Isn’t that your field of expertise?”

“Yes, but this is more up your alley if you’d only stop trying to make me feel like I failed you and just listen?” she asked.

“I guess I’d better,” her father conceded, “or you’ll hang up, right?”

She wasn’t going to get sucked into that. Instead she asked, “Do you still talk to Maeve O’Bannon?”

“She’s a damn fine woman,” her father said with feeling. “Why shouldn’t I still talk to her? She had the good sense to work alongside the fire department, unlike the rest of her family.”

Sierra ignored that, as well, and went straight to the heart of her request. “I want you to ask her something for me.”

“All right,” Chief Craig Carlyle said. “What do you want me to ask?”

She braced herself for her father’s possible reaction. “Could you ask her what her son Ronan’s story is?”

“Come again?”

Sierra decided to give her father as much background as she felt he’d need to understand why she was making the request. “I’m working with Ronan and he let it slip that I remind him of someone. I need you to ask Maeve if he ever had a problem with someone who looked like me.”

“I’ve got a suggestion,” her father said. “Why don’t you ask Ronan?”