Cavanaugh Hero Read Free Page B

“Hey, I just tell it the way I see it, man.”
    “Give my condolences to your new partner,” Hollis called after him.
    Declan nodded, then stopped short of the doorway and made a prediction as he shrugged into his jacket. “You’ll be back.”
    “Keep telling yourself that, Cavanaugh,” he chuckled, heading in the opposite direction. “You’ll get old, waiting.”
    Declan shook his head. Had to be some kind of an epidemic, he decided. Some kind of a bug that was inducing people he knew—including his own siblings—to abandon their single existence, an existence that was highlighted by freedom and a myriad of choices in all directions—just to be yoked to another person, presumably for life.
    And while he had to admit that he really liked and got along with the people that his brothers and sisters chose to become their “other halves,” the very hint of marriage, at least in his case, sounded far too much like a prison sentence, he thought.
    And that was definitely not for him.

Chapter 2
    T he sound of raised voices greeted Declan the minute he got out of his car, thanks to the wide-open door leading into the victim’s house. Someone was having an argument, he thought, listening closely as he made his way up the walk.
    “Look, Detective, there’s no pulse,” the paramedic with the two days’ growth on his face argued. He gestured in exasperation toward the body on the sofa. “The officer’s dead. There’s nothing we can do for him. You’ve already made us apply the paddles once. There is no jump-starting this guy,” he enunciated. “He’s gone. You don’t need an ambulance for him, you need the coroner’s wagon. He’s dead. ”
    Declan looked from the two frustrated paramedics to the woman they were arguing with. The woman who, with her back to the entrance, was deliberately blocking the paramedics’ exit.
    “Try the paddles again,” she ordered.
    There was something vaguely familiar about the voice and the woman’s stance, even though she had her back to him. Declan had the feeling that he knew her or, at the very least, that their paths had crossed once.
    “He’s gone, Detective,” the other, older paramedic insisted, although his voice was gentler, more understanding than his partner’s.
    The woman rested her hand on the hilt of the weapon holstered at her side. The inference was difficult to miss.
    “Just one more time,” she told them evenly. “You can’t be in that much of a hurry to leave.”
    The two paramedics exchanged looks, and then the younger one saw him standing in the doorway behind the detective. A silent appeal went out to Declan.
    Declan inclined his head as if to say, “Humor her.” The hope was that she would be easier to deal with if she was humored.
    With a sigh, the taller of the two paramedics took out the defibrillator again, set it up to three hundred and held the flat surfaces out so that his partner could apply gel to the paddles. The first paramedic waited for thirty seconds, then cried out, “Clear!” just before applying the paddles to Matt’s chest.
    The officer’s lifeless body jolted macabrely, rising an inch or so from the sofa, then fell back again, as devoid of any spark of life now as he had been the first time the paddles had been applied.
    Still holding the paddles, the paramedic looked at her. “See?” he asked.
    “Satisfied?” the other paramedic asked, more than ready to wrap things up and be on his way.
    Charley closed her eyes, struggling to keep the hot tears back. She wasn’t going to cry over Matt until she was alone, away from any prying eyes. She owed her brother that much, to conduct herself with dignity in public. Matt hated scenes.
    “No,” she said in what amounted to a strangled whisper. She wasn’t satisfied at all. “But you can go.”
    The voice finally registered, setting off a chain reaction in Declan’s head. He knew who she was now.
    “Charlotte?” Declan asked, coming around to look at the detective’s