Part 7 (1/2)

With a smile, she pulled out of the s.p.a.ce, her eyes glued to the rearview mirror, alert for any lit taillights. After several minutes, she was on the road, heading for home and rest.

Though she hated to admit it, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired and was secretly glad to be on her way home. As always, her stubbornness had caused her to overdo it. But they'd have to pry the admission from her cold, cold lips because she'd never readily own up to the fact that maybe her father was right and that she should have remained home an extra day.

When she saw the porch lights at her house, she sighed with relief.

The telephone rang at eight that evening, its shrill noise breaking into the silence that hovered around the house tonight. Andrew hadn't felt like turning on the TV or the radio. He was too afraid he might not hear the phone when it rang.

Before the first ring had died away, he had the receiver up and against his ear.

For all intents and purposes, he was alone here tonight. Teri had gone to bed after a light supper, for once listening to him about getting her rest. She'd looked ghastly pale this evening. It's what she got for being so stubborn.

For being his daughter, he'd thought, because he would have done exactly what she had and gotten back up on the horse that had thrown him. She was that determined to break a case, one that went beyond a single simple home invasion.

”h.e.l.lo?” His own voice sounded a little breathless to his ear. But he'd been waiting for this call. Waiting for it even before he'd left the crime lab.

”Andy, it's Claude.”

Andrew could feel his pulse accelerating. He dispensed with his customary cheerful chitchat. There was only one thought on his mind. One thought that had been there all afternoon, stilling his brain activity to such an extent that he had exchanged perhaps ten sentences with Teri from the time she came home to the time she had gone to her room.

Not since Rose had first disappeared had he felt such a high level of antic.i.p.ation wrapped in dread. ”Did they match?”

There was a long sigh on the other end of the line. Andrew braced himself for disappointment. ”Had some trouble getting a clear print.”

C'mon, c'mon, don't talk me to death, just tell me what I need to know. He knew how Wilkins worked. ”But you did.”

”I did. Finally.”

Claude Wilkins was the best at what he did, none better. But the man was incredibly long-winded and given half an opportunity, could talk on for hours about virtually nothing. And this was far from nothing. This was his very future on the line.

”And?” Andrew urged, trying to curb his impatience and keep from snapping at the man he'd known for over thirty-five years.

”They match. Whose are they, Andy?”

He had refrained from telling the head technician his hopes on the matter. He knew what the others thought, how they felt. Pity was something he had no desire to encounter again. ”They belong to someone I once knew.”

”Long-lost friend?” Wilkins probed.

”Yeah.” It was a safe enough answer, although she'd been more than a friend, more than a wife to him. Rose Gallagher Cavanaugh had been the other half of his soul, and he'd been incomplete ever since she'd disappeared. ”Thanks, Claude, I owe you one.”

He heard a soft chuckle on the other end of the time. ”Prime rib dinner comes to mind.”

Wilkins had wandered onto territory reserved for the other major love of his life after his family and police work. Cooking. ”You got it. I'll be by for the spoon and book tomorrow.” About to hang up, there was something in the other man's tone that stopped him.

”Oh, I think you should know. Teri came by this afternoon and asked if you'd left something for me to examine.”

”What did you say?”

Wilkins was glib and open. ”That I wasn't comfortable talking about it. Not a h.e.l.l of a whole lot I could have told her, anyway, Andy,” he pointed out. ”You never said who you thought the prints belonged to.”

”No,” Andrew said with finality, terminating this part of the conversation. ”I didn't. Dinner sometime next week all right with you?”

If he felt he was being dealt with abruptly, Wilkins gave no indication of it in his voice. ”You're on. Just call and tell me when. I'll bring my appet.i.te.”

Saying something that pa.s.sed for appropriate, Andrew hung up. He'd barely heard Wilkins. Even thoughts of possibly being discovered by his daughter before he was ready to share this with them slipped into the far recesses of his mind.

He'd found her.

After all this time, he'd found her. He'd known it all along. Known that she was alive.

Tears gathered in his eyes.

Tears of joy.

And tears of sorrow, for everything Rose had missed over these last fifteen years.

”So, was it good for you?” Teri asked cheerfully as she walked into the squad room.

Her question was directed toward Hawk who was just hanging up the phone. His desk, including the keyboard he rarely used, was completely covered with notes he'd been poring over since early this morning. He looked up now and sent a dark look his partner's way.

”It was good for me,” she told Hawk when he made no response.

When she'd woken up this morning, she'd felt as if her world was completely filled with suns.h.i.+ne. Never a sluggish riser, the way her younger sister, Rayne, was, this was still an unusual high even for her and she had nothing to pin it on-except perhaps that she had finally gotten Hawk to come to the Shannon. Success, no matter how minor, always felt good.

The look Hawk gave her was that much darker because her question had aroused a scenario in his head that had no place being there.

”Hey, you two talking about what I think you're talking about?” Mulrooney asked, lowering his voice even as his eyes darted from her to Hawk and then back again.

”Number one,” Hawk began tersely, ”I'm not talking, she is so there is no two' here. And number two, G.o.d only knows what Cavanaugh is babbling about this time.”

”I'm in too good a mood to let your grumpiness affect me,” she informed Hawk. Coming up behind Hawk's chair, she placed her hands on his shoulders as if he were a budding protege she was sponsoring for an exclusive club. ”You weren't there, Dan, but Hawk here finally made it to the Shannon last night.” She beamed down at him. G.o.d, but he had thick, black hair. The kind that tempted a woman to run her fingers through it. She leaned her face down to be level with his. ”So, the next office barbecue, your place?”

Hawk purposely turned around in his chair, breaking the connection. Funny, he could almost still feel her hands on his shoulders. ”If I'd known you'd act this crazy, I would have never said yes. What the h.e.l.l's gotten into you this morning?”

”I don't know,” she said honestly. ”Maybe I'm just glad to be alive.”

Mulrooney laughed shortly. ”Yeah,” he agreed. ”The alternative really stinks.”

”All depends on your take on this life and the afterlife,” his partner, Tom Ka.s.sidy, a man half his girth and almost half Mulrooney's height, piped up as he joined the forum.

Teri looked at her partner. ”How about it, Hawk? Do you believe in an afterlife?”

Hawk looked at her pointedly. ”Wouldn't know about that.” He wrote something down on his small, worn pad before sticking it back into the pocket of his jacket. ”I'm pretty sure about h.e.l.l on earth, though.”

Mulrooney laughed as he crossed to the doorway. It was time to scrounge up his morning snack from the vending machine. ”He's got you there, Cavanaugh.”

Actually, Teri thought, looking at Hawk, the man had her in a lot of ways she didn't have time to dwell on right now.