Free Cavanaugh Cold Case by Marie Ferrarella

he guessed. “Did you call to hear the sound of my voice, or do you have something to tell me?” he asked, allowing just a shade of hope to filter through his words.
    â€œOh, I have a lot to tell you,” Kristin answered. “But if you’re specifically asking me about all these body parts that are currently surrounding and haunting me, yes, I called about them.”
    â€œI’ll be right there,” he promised.
    â€œI can tell you what I have to say over the phone,” she said, trying to save him a trip—and herself from having to deal with him face-to-face. His presence was difficult to factor into the sum total of her day and still remain entirely unaffected—no matter what she attempted to pretend to the contrary.
    â€œYes, but I can’t see you over this phone,” he pointed out.
    â€œIt’s not necessary to see me in order to get this information,” she told him almost defensively, really hoping she didn’t sound that way.
    â€œMaybe it’s not necessary to you,” he allowed, “but it is to me. I’m a very visual man,” he explained. “I need to see things before I can retain them.”
    â€œYou’re not serious.”
    She supposed there could be a grain of truth to what he was telling her. Kristin had to admit he’d gotten her to the point where she was beginning to doubt the most normally acceptable concepts.
    â€œFrequently,” he told her. “And twice on Sundays. Hang on, I’ll be over before you have a chance to regret calling me.”
    â€œUnless you’ve found a way to travel back into time, Detective, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Kristin responded.
    Malloy could have sworn, as he terminated his call, that he had heard a smile in her voice as she said the last line.
    That was enough for him to actually envision one in his mind’s eye. It was also enough to spur him on and have him make his way down to the morgue in a record amount of time.
    The fact that he used the stairs rather than wait for an elevator didn’t hurt, either.

Chapter 6
    â€œW hat did you do, run all the way?” Kristin asked, surprised to see Malloy turn up so quickly when he walked through the morgue’s door less than five minutes after she’d spoken to him.
    He’d had his own reasons for hurrying, but he refrained from saying so. Instead, he told her, “A magician never divulges his secrets.”
    â€œA magician? You’ve quit the force?” Kristin deadpanned.
    Malloy laughed. “Ah, so you do have a sense of humor,” he commented appreciatively. “Even if I were tempted to make that happen, I couldn’t.” When she seemed confused, he explained, “Quit the force. I’d have everyone in the family hunting me down. Like it or not, this is the family business and it’s become a tradition handed down through three generations.”
    â€œYou obviously must like it,” she observed. He didn’t strike her as the type to do anything he didn’t want to do, family tradition or no family tradition.
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” he asked, curious.
    She set aside the camera she’d been using to photograph the end results of one of the bodies she’d reassembled on the table to the left.
    Kristin wasn’t about to flatter him and inflate Malloy’s ego, so she kept her assessment down to the bare minimum.
    â€œOtherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘even if I were tempted,’ which means you’re not tempted. You’re on the force by choice.”
    â€œBusted,” he answered with a grin. The woman made a fair detective herself, he thought in admiration. “How about you?”
    She’d lowered her visor, not wanting to waste anytime. “How about me what?”
    â€œWhy are you doing autopsies—or whatever this practical phase of it is called—” he waved a hand at the tables of