Chapter Three

Fallon seethed on the inside. Outwardly, she remained calm. Closing the file, she looked into the mercury gaze of Detective Ian Cavanaugh. This man has stunning eyes. “Where’s your boss?”

“Excuse me?” Ian frowned.

She knew he noticed the soft malice in her eyes, and she controlled herself. No reason to let this man see me lose control. “Your boss. Where is he?”

“Why?”

Fallon blinked once. “Never mind. I see him.” She walked off toward the room and entered without knocking.

“Who are you?” the pudgy man demanded. “Ian, get her out of here.”

Fallon knew Detective Cavanaugh stood in the doorway; she’d heard him get up and follow her.

“I want the rest,” she insisted. “This file is incomplete. I was assured that we would be given the whole thing.”

“Fallon Maddox, I presume?” The sneer on her last name was hard to miss. For anyone.

“Yes. Your boss gave his word. I want the rest. I will make copies myself.” She pointed over her shoulder at a lurking Ian. “He can escort me.”

It was a struggle for her not to reach out smack that contemptuous look off the captain’s face. The way his nondescript, watery blue eyes stared at her like she was something filthy. She held his gaze, taking stock of the way his lip curled along with a distasteful expression on his face. Like the man swallowed something foul.

Fallon felt the man behind her approached softly, well balanced on his feet. Warmth radiated from his body as he stood behind her and it swallowed her up. Blinking again, Fallon reached for the file and took it. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Turning, she found herself staring at a wall of flesh. Solid flesh. A dark blue crewneck stretched lovingly across his chest. A double shoulder harness succeeded in highlighting the rippling pectorals.

Holy crap!

Fallon licked her lips. Her eyes moved down first and roamed over the nice tight black jeans and white tennis shoes. Slowly, she brought her eyes back up the mouthwatering physique.

He’s built better than some Marines I know.

A strong chin covered by light stubble bespoke a serious stubbornness. The angular face was handsome but he was not a pretty boy. Auburn hair, cut close to the nape of his neck, framed his face.

Gunmetal eyes waited for her. They told her this man was passionate about his job. Intelligent, and yet interspaced within that she saw the exhaustion of one who had seen too much.

“I’ll take you to an observation room where you can look over the file.”

Damn! Ian Cavanaugh is even better looking up close.

“What you can do is escort me to the complete file, let me make sure it’s all there, and then walk me to a photocopier. I’ll make copies and then get out of your hair.” Fallon stepped around him and headed to the door.

“I don’t need the Maddox clan in the way!” Captain Rick DeVane snapped.

She swallowed and turned, making sure there was no emotion on her face. “In the way? Of what? You said it was basically an open-shut case.”

Fallon caught the evasiveness of his gaze. The rapid swallowing and excessive clearing of his throat. She tilted her head slightly to the left and said, “While this may be just another case to you, this man was our father.” And if you keep stonewalling me, I’ll call in every favor I have to.

“I’ll take care of this, Captain.” Ian’s voice split the tension.

Fallon clenched her teeth and spun around. She left the office and found much of the squad room staring in her direction.

Ian stopped beside her. “This way.” He gestured to the left. Within a few moments, he was opening a door.

An interrogation room.

“I don’t need an interrogation room. I just need the file.” She could feel a headache coming. Fallon grimaced. She heard the sharpness in her tone and realized her hard-won control was dissolving. The little girl inside her wanted and needed to grieve.

“I’m having someone bring the file. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink? Anything?” His voice was deep and sensual and made her think of things she didn’t want to think of at that moment.

“I would love to get the file.” Fallon ignored everything in the room. The table. The chairs. Ian. Although that one was a bit more difficult. “Leave the door open,” she ordered before he could shut it.

“At least have a seat,” Ian said.

“I’m just fine, thank you.” She had no intention of sitting.

***

Ian refused to sit also. He leaned in a corner, watched and waited. Fallon Maddox confused him. She was an enigma. The words “coldly polite” came to mind.

She didn’t seem to care for him or his captain. She refused even the smallest of hospitalities, a chair and drink included, and wanted the door left open.

He observed her appearance. Her hands remained in her jacket pockets. Her black booted feet were braced shoulder-width apart and her stare remained zeroed in on the entryway of the room they occupied.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he blurted.

“Thank you.” She didn’t look at him.

“He was a good man.”

Her jaw clenched for a fraction of a second. “He was a great man.”

“Yes, yes of course he was,” Ian agreed.

Silence reigned again.

Ian didn’t know what to do. His normal calm at handling difficult situations seemed to vanish like ice in hell. He wanted her to talk to him, wanted her to engage him in conversation. Ian continued to watch her as they waited. He didn’t recall much about Shawn’s little sister. She had kept to herself a lot. He just remembered how protective her brothers were of her.

Ian hadn’t seen her at her mom’s funeral. He had been at a seminar when Nadine Maddox was buried. It had been over fifteen years since he had laid eyes on her. Over the years after high school, he and Shawn had grown further apart. Without football to unite them, he was a cop’s son and Shawn...Shawn was Clayborne Maddox’s partner-in-crime.

She is remarkably calm, considering her father was buried yesterday. Ian frowned. Why hadn’t she gone to the funeral or wake?

He looked at her again. No change. Her face remained as if carved out of stone. There was no frustration, no anger, just what he could only describe as patience.

Endless patience.

The vibration of his phone snapped his attention away from her. “Cavanaugh.” His eyes drifted back to Fallon. Still no change.

The person on the other end was his captain.

“Report to me as soon as that Maddox woman is gone. I’m assuming she’s still here.” DeVane’s voice rang through the phone.

“Yes sir, she is.”

Ian frowned again. What possible reason could Captain Rick DeVane have for retaining such animosity toward Fallon Maddox? He was well aware of the tension between him and Clay, but Fallon? She hadn’t been around for years.

“As soon as she’s gone, Cavanaugh. My office.” The phone slammed down in his ear.

Ian shook his head. Something had rattled his normally controlled boss. He knew the captain had a temper, everyone did, but the blatant rudeness was new. He’d call his dad who had worked over at the one-five and hopefully get some answers.

Hooking his phone back on his belt, Ian looked up and froze. Fallon was gone.

What the hell? When did she go? He hadn’t been on the phone for very long.

He headed to the doorway of the room. Scanning the busy room, he caught sight of her walking out the door.

Ian headed after her. Halfway through the bullpen he heard a yell. “Cavanaugh! My office!”

Damn it. With one final glance at the retreating figure of Fallon Maddox, Ian sighed as he adjusted his course to see his captain. Even as he closed the office door behind him, Ian’s thoughts lingered on the ever stoic Fallon Maddox.