Cavanaugh Cold Case Read Free

minimum hours of sleep to be sufficiently operational, Malloy thought, but he had just had a really good jolt to his system, thanks to the coffee he’d imbibed a minute ago, and the scowling man in front of him still wasn’t making any sense.
    â€œYou want to run that by me again?” Malloy requested. “Starting with your name.”
    â€œI’m Roy Harrison,” the guy grudgingly bit off. “And I just had my lawyer buy this property for me.”
    There was practically steam coming out of Harrison’s rather large ears. In his position, Malloy supposed he wouldn’t exactly be thrilled, either.
    â€œI take it congratulations are not in order,” he commented.
    â€œDamn straight they’re not,” Harrison snapped. “I paid for a cacti and succulent nursery, lock, stock and barrel. I didn’t pay for some freaking boneyard,” he bit off in complete disgust. “Can’t you and that dour-faced former cheerleader take these damn bones and do whatever it is you have to do with them somewhere else? I’ve got a nursery to get ready to open,” the man complained unnecessarily.
    â€œI’m afraid nothing’s happening on that end until all the evidence is bagged and tagged, and we can determine whether or not this was the actual scene of the crime—or if the victims were killed somewhere else.”
    Though he kept his expression deliberately neutral, Malloy had to admit that he rather enjoyed putting a pin in the man’s balloon. He’d never cared for people who were filled with their own sense of importance—especially if they felt that gave them a reason to throw their weight around.
    His answer did not sit well with the new nursery owner. Harrison’s scowl became almost fierce as he waved a hand angrily in Sean Cavanaugh’s general direction. The latter was standing in the distance, working alongside his team.
    â€œI overheard that old guy say that these bones have been in the ground for maybe two decades. What the hell difference can it make now where you look at them?” Harrison demanded. “They’re old.”
    â€œIt makes a great deal of difference,” Malloy told the new owner, his voice deceptively calm. “And that ‘old guy’ you just referred to happens to be the head of the crime scene investigation lab—and my uncle,” he added crisply. “So maybe you could find it in your heart to show a little respect for the man and his considerable knowledge. Who knows?” Malloy added “pleasantly,” his obvious contempt for the owner beginning to show through. “You play your cards right and the chief actually might find a way to shorten the time.”
    Harrison already looked infuriated to find himself stymied in this manner, not to mention that he highly resented being rebuked by someone he obviously felt was beneath him.
    The next moment, Harrison took out his wallet, his implication clear as he tugged on a larger bill, having it peer over the top of his credit cards. “What can I do to make this go faster?”
    â€œNot bribing me would be a good start.” Malloy flashed a completely phony smile at the offensive nursery owner. “Hang tight, Harrison. I’m going to have some questions to ask you in a few minutes.” But before that happened, he needed to check in with the CSI team first. “Now, about that ‘former cheerleader’ you mentioned—”
    A barely veiled sneer curved Harrison’s thin lips. “Let me guess, another relative?”
    Malloy had just spotted the woman the new owner had to be referring to. She was the only female in the area, and, from what he could see at this distance, whoever she was, the slender blonde was nothing short of a breathtaking knockout.
    All memory of Bunny, the woman he’d spent his extremely energized weekend with, completely vanished.
    â€œLord, I hope not,” Malloy commented