Cavanaugh's Bodyguard by Marie Ferrarella

Author:Marie Ferrarella [Marie Ferrarella]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: David_James Mobilism.org
Published: 2012-03-22T06:00:14+00:00

Chapter 9

The Lady Killer’s first known victim, a twenty-five-year-old redhead named Phyllis Jones, came complete with a distraught fiancé who, according to Detective McGee’s notes in the file, had an alibi for the time of her murder. And while Bridget hated the thought of dredging up her murder again for the man if he actually was innocent, they still needed to interview the man to see if he had alibis for the time of the two most recent murders.

If he didn’t, they’d take it from there.

It still wasn’t an interview she was particularly looking forward to.

“I’ll go with you,” Josh volunteered when she announced where she was going and why.

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “God knows there’s enough work here to keep you busy even if you worked at warp speed—which you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do ‘have to,’” he said stubbornly. “On the outside chance that you turn out to be right,” he added.

Pulling her jacket from the back of her chair, Bridget stopped and looked at him. “Are you telling me that you don’t think I can take care of myself?”

The edge in her voice did not go unnoticed. “You?” he laughed. “Hell, if you’re right, I’m going along to protect the ‘suspect.’ Given the way you feel about these murders, you’re liable to put a bullet between his eyes just as soon as bring him in.”

She squared her shoulders as she gave Josh a frosty glance. “I can control myself,” she informed him. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who can’t.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the squad room.

“Uh-huh.” The word might have indicated he agreed with what she’d just said, but there was very little conviction in it.

For now, Bridget gave up and let him come along. Two opinions were always better than one.

* * *

Ryan Roberts, a freelance architect and the first victim’s fiancé, was home, working, when they rang his bell forty minutes later. He opened the door a crack, an uncertain expression on his face until Bridget held up her identification. Absently, she noted that was the first time she’d used her new ID since she’d had the name on it changed.

“Detectives Youngblood and Cavanaugh. We’re with the Aurora Police Department’s homicide division,” she told Roberts, putting her wallet back after a beat.

Still wary, Roberts opened the door and stepped back. “Why are you here?” And then he answered his own question with another question. “Did you find him?” he asked, looking from one detective to the other. “Did you find the bastard who killed my Phyllis?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Josh answered with more compassion than he usually employed, Bridget noted.

“Then I don’t understand.” Average in height and slight in build, the man became reticent again. “Why are you here?”

“We just needed to ask you a few more questions, Mr. Roberts,” Bridget told him, slipping into her friendliest tone to put him at his ease.

It didn’t work. There was still a look of suspicion on Roberts’s face. “I already told the other detectives everything I knew three years ago.

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