Internal Affair (2 page)

Besides, he had a new job to do. He needed the sleep if he was going to be able to function well. It mattered as it always did that he do the best job he could. Rory Callaghan’s son could do no less.

****

Amazing how a little obsessive compulsive checking behavior, a self-induced orgasm, and a large amount of coffee perked a guy up in the early morning. Daire strolled into work with a lot more energy than one would expect from a less than perfect night’s sleep.

The building and the people were still new to him. His promotion had forced a change in district because there were only so many positions available. He had a low tolerance to change for obvious reasons, and he didn’t possess anything like Ronan’s ability to instantly make friends out of strangers. As he passed the front desk, he flashed his badge on the assumption that no one here recognized him even after two weeks. The desk sergeant greeted him with a slight shake of his head as if to say he wasn’t as hopeless as the new lieutenant at remembering people’s faces.

Daire picked up his pace as if that alone would telegraph more confidence than he felt, walking into the squad room and weaving through the desks of the men and women he commanded. A chorus of “morning boss” and “hey, LT” greeted him, easing his tension and making him smile inwardly. He wondered if the thrill of the acknowledgment by his people would ever fade. Their tones were sincere, not forced or wary. He knew in his head he was good at his job and good as a commander. The lingering insecurity came from those long ago days when he feared he wouldn’t be up to the task of being the head of his family.

He entered his office, keeping the door and blinds open. His old lieutenant had maintained a policy of being available to his people. Daire had appreciated it as a subordinate and intended to carry on the tradition himself. The morning routine went by quickly, getting updates on his peoples’ cases, digging into paperwork. God, he hated that part of his job. No one had ever warned him that filings and reports increased exponentially with each promotion. At least he had a computer. He remembered how his father and Uncle Jack used to complain about the vagaries of typewriters. In the not so long ago days, he’d be pecking away at sticky keys and cursing at faded ribbon. Plus, his spelling ability sucked, no matter how many remedial classes they sent him to when he attended grade school. Spellchecker was not just his friend, but his savior.

Determined to do his job well and not complain too much yet, even inside his own head, he plugged away, wishing—guiltily—that some grisly murder would occur just to force his attention elsewhere. A soft knock on his doorjamb sent his head whipping up in relief. Any distraction was welcome, except he frowned as he looked at the woman standing in his doorway.

Instead of one of his subordinates, a petite Asian woman with straight, silky hair cut bluntly just below her chin stared back at him. Her face held a no-nonsense expression, not hostile, merely serious. She wore a basic black pants suit, with a crisp, white shirt and the kind of sensible shoes he’d seen on his almost sister-in-law Cassidy’s feet. They were coveted in particular by people who spent long hours on their feet, like medical professionals. This woman standing before him, however, screamed cop. In particular, she screamed i
nternal affairs
or as many cops would at least think of it as, if not call it, the
rat squad
.

Daire didn’t. Mostly. He knew a rat, um, investigative officer when he saw one, though. And this woman, who stood primly and patiently for him to acknowledge her with a soft briefcase clutched by one hand and slung over her shoulder, filled the bill.

Assuming one of his people had landed in hot water, he sat back in his chair on a silent sigh. “Can I help you?”

Parker Li straightened her already ramrod straight back and held Lieutenant Daire Callaghan’s gaze. She’d known he was fairly young for his post and had seen official pictures of him, but she hadn’t appreciated what the impact of seeing him in person would have on her. Handsome, sure, that was one word she could use to describe the man. Hot as holy hell would be more accurate, however. He had that whole black Irish look going for him, hair as dark as her own contrasting with pale skin and bright blue eyes that really should have been doled out only to bubble gum pop stars. Female ones.

She’d thought she’d successfully locked down her sexuality for the foreseeable future. She’d been wrong. Looking at this man, a man of superior rank, who no doubt knew where she came from and disliked her for it, sent her body into party-time mode. Her skin tingled with anticipation, and her tongue eagerly tried to pass her lips to lick them provocatively in invitation. She had to clench her teeth to keep it under control. Her body flushed with heat, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. For once, she wished she wore make-up every day. It might have covered up the blush she felt creeping up her cheeks.

In an effort to pull herself together, she hefted her briefcase strap higher on her shoulder and took a step into the office. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I’m Detective Parker Li from internal affairs.” She could all but hear her niece telling her to stop being so derpy. “Do you have a moment?”

The look on Lieutenant Callaghan’s face clearly conveyed he wished he didn’t. “Of course, Detective, come in and sit down.”

“Thank you, sir.” Parker entered the office fully and shut the door quietly behind her. Ignoring Callaghan’s raised eyebrows at her perhaps presumptive actions, she sat on the edge of one of his visitor chairs. She also ignored the spike of pleasure zinging through her when the seam of her pants dug into the aroused flesh between her legs. She pulled her briefcase onto her lap as if to hide her inappropriate reaction to him. How dumb was that? It wasn’t as if she had an erection to hide, yet she felt self-conscious anyway. “I need to speak with you about a delicate matter.”

Callaghan treated her to a slight and amused smile. “Isn’t everything you do a ‘delicate matter’?”

She ignored the somewhat baiting tone, having learned quickly that she couldn’t work in internal affairs without developing a thick skin. Dislike, mistrust, and even open hostility came with the job. She had to ignore it all, the looks when she checked in at the front desk and the stares boring into her back as she walked through the bull pen to reach the lieutenant’s office. Cops could practically smell her coming. One actually had told her so with a sneer on his face, as if she were dog shit he’d just stepped in.

But her job mattered. Without people like her, some cops, just a very few of them, tarnished the badge and made all of their jobs harder to do. She had a hard time accepting that other cops couldn’t see the value in what she did, didn’t appreciate that she wasn’t against them, wasn’t the enemy. She fervently wanted to make the department better. She hoped the man sitting across the desk from her would understand that she was there to help, not hurt.

Taking a deep, furtive breath for courage, she pulled out a bulky manila envelope. Although files were increasingly done electronically these days, there were still paper files as well, and they often contained scraps of information and photographs that no one had bothered to scan into a computer. That was particularly true for a cold case close to a decade old. The file had resided in the bowels of the records department, yet surprisingly free of dust and more worn than she would have expected given its age. Someone, some people, had been pulling it out and going through it over the years. She’d bet anything one of those people sat in the room with her. Her suspicions were confirmed when Callaghan leaned forward to stare at what she held.

“I’ve been investigating the death of Connor Mahurin.” She paused when she thought she heard Callaghan mutter
fucker
under his breath. She suppressed a smile. If she were him, she’d feel the same way. “As well as another member of the force about whom incriminating evidence was found in Mahurin’s personal papers at home. That person is on administrative leave and faces criminal charges as soon as the D.A. and I finish lining up our ducks. That’s confidential information, by the way, sir.”

Callaghan didn’t respond. He kept staring at the file in her hand.

She cleared her throat delicately. This next part of the one-way conversation was going to be tricky. Unpleasant in a way she hadn’t become used to. This would be personal to the lieutenant, and more, it would be painful. She hated dredging up old memories and picking at painful wounds she imagined hadn’t completely healed. But it had to be done. Justice hadn’t been served on this old case yet. With the Mahurin matter only a few months old, this case wasn’t even as cold as everyone else seemed to think. In her mind, it remained red-hot.

“In any event, as part of my investigation, I kind of stumbled into your parents’ murders. I went through this file and I, um, know there was talk at the time that your father had gotten into some trouble with the Irish mob, that he was, like Mahurin has turned out to be, dirty.”

Large hands slammed down on the top of the desk. Callaghan half rose up from his seat. “Get to the damn point, Li. What the hell do you want?”

If she’d seen only anger in those vivid blue eyes, she might have reacted with equal force. But another feeling showed through—hurt. So she met his temper with the same modulated tone she’d been using and cut to the chase. “I’m reopening this case. I intend to investigate the murder of your parents as part of a broader search for cops corrupted and in league with Mahurin.” When Callaghan’s expression turned stormier, she hurried to finish. “To be clear, I’m not going into this with the expectation that your father was one of those cops.”

Silence reigned for a few seconds as Callaghan digested her words. She maintained eye contact so he could see her sincerity. She never went into a case with preconceived expectations that a cop had done something wrong. Her goal didn’t involve bagging cops for contrived infractions. She chased after the truth, whatever it turned out to be.

Callaghan sat back in his chair once more, his gaze skittering off to the side. His chest rose and fell on quick, harsh breaths, testament to how riled up he’d become. But he obviously tried to get himself under control before speaking to her again. She gave him the privacy he needed by sticking the file back into her briefcase.

Really, there’d been no need to take it out in the first place. It had served as a kind of prop, something for her to do with her hands to expend nervous energy. She didn’t enjoy confrontations, even though it came with the job. Worse, gorgeous men who pushed all of her feminine buttons unnerved her. The raw sexuality of Callaghan was enough to unsettle her. Her body had forgotten she’d sworn off men and dating for the foreseeable future.

Of course, when she’d done that, the images in her mind were of the nice, mild Chinese men her mother had been pushing on her since she’d finished college. None of them had held the allure of Daire Callaghan. It was easy to give up vegetables. Far harder to turn away dessert.

Callaghan finally broke his silence. In a weary tone, he asked, “What do you want from me?”

Okay, back to business. “Your help. As a son of the victims, your perspective and your memories of the events before, during, and after the murders could prove very useful to my investigation. Plus, you were already a cop yourself and must have interacted with at least some of the same cops as your father. I need that insight about who you might suspect had been dirty back then.”

Callaghan smiled wanly at her. “What makes you think I wasn’t one of them, that I’m not currently one of them?”

Parker tossed herself back into her chair and crossed her legs. She swiped with annoyance at a stray hair that swung into her face, working out the proper response. She was used to hostility. Bluntness, not so much. Challenge lurked in the lieutenant’s expression.

“For me to worry that you were a corrupt cop back then, I’d have to also believe your father had groomed you like some mafia kid to join the
family business
,” she said with air quotes. “Then after your father, did what? Double-crossed his criminal cohorts? You still joined up?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, so maybe you’re such a crappy son you did that and proceeded to nevertheless become a stellar police officer, racking up collars as a patrolman and participating in some major busts as a detective. If that was some kind of diversionary tactic, then congratulations, it certainly makes you look like the real thing. In fact, if more dirty cops did the job you’ve done, some might consider it a fair trade.”

She paused to gauge the effect she had on him. He stared back at her with ever narrowing eyes and a grim set to his lips. Hard to read exactly what his thoughts were, but she had his attention at least. She believed what she said, too, having thought it through already. She re-crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs a bit because Callaghan still made her hot and bothered in a distracting way despite her resolve to tamp down her interest.

“So then,” she continued, as if ticking off a list of how she’d spent her day. “You raised your younger brothers to also join the family business. Apparently you did a lousy job there if you are dirty. Sergeant Callaghan was the one who flushed out Mahurin, which means either your brother is clean or crafty enough to get rid of a loose end without splashing any mud on himself. And, his partner, Nieves, either corrupts easily or is too stupid to know what his partner is up to. I’ve seen his file and don’t peg him as either dirty or dumb.”

She paused again, just for a second. When Callaghan opened his mouth, she overrode whatever he’d intended to say. “Finally, we have the baby of the family. He looks like he’s still in high school, let alone college. That’s why he did so well working undercover as a teen prostitute, I guess. Once again, either you’ve shielded him from the awful truth of your doings or he’s dumb enough to get himself beaten half to death by someone who paid off and blackmailed higher-ups to turn a blind eye to his little horror show. Not exactly how a dirty cop gets ahead.”

The lieutenant shot to his feet in an almost violent move that sent her heart thumping with a hint of fear, but also a purely feminine appreciation of the power he obviously kept tightly leashed.