Red Silk Scarf (39 page)

Dan gagged on the
enormous lump balled in his throat a collection of emotions, part regret,
mostly pride.
 
A woman of all people
taught him a lesson.
 
He never believed
that someone so sexy and fragile could do a “man's job.”
 
The tenacity it took Cassidy to bring the
killer down demanded respect, and admiration, possibly even an apology on his
knees.
 
Something Cassidy would never
allow.
 
She was, a very special, classy
woman, one in a million.
 
In the past,
his love for her was based solely on lust nothing compared to what Dan was
feeling right this second.
 
A powerful
newly found love capable of changing a person’s point of view.
 
Now all he wanted for her was happiness.
 
Anyway, she'd never love him, he, didn't
deserve a woman like her, had not earned the privilege.
 
Amazingly, he'd come to terms with letting
her go.

Stepping back from
the gathering, Michael's reactions mimicked Sullivan.
 
His advantage point allowed observation
without detection.
 
A position he
favored.
 
He was craving a long, cool
drink of water, that's what Casey was, refreshing, far from the ordinary.
 
Until meeting the extraordinary Ms. Brady,
Michael was a quiet man that wanted nothing more out of life, now he knew he,
could love a woman like that, did love a woman like that.

There was no
mistaking what registered in each set of eyes as Cassidy casually entered.
 
With a quick flick, black orbs darted to
those of each man that were painting her, undressing her, wanting her.
 
Although her colliding thoughts differed for
each recipient one look told them she’d tried, convicted, and castrated them.
 
Sullivan was last, her glance only lasting
for a brief moment before dashing away.
 
The heat waves moving between them rocked her equilibrium
considerably.
 
Completing her mission,
the toll sufficiently damaging left Cassidy somewhat gratified, and yet sick to
her stomach.

The rare emotion
of embarrassment had an uncomfortable effect on Mark.
 
He’d been disrespectful of the elegant woman
whose presence was all-consuming.
 
How
could someone as sophisticated as Cassidy, pull off such an accomplishment, he
thought, his head shaking in wonder.
 
God, she had fortitude and then some.
 
A classic beauty that in another life he would kill to claim had he not
come to realize Cassidy wasn't the only exceptional woman he'd victimized.
 
Someone else didn't deserve what he'd dished
out.
 
At last, he knew he'd always love
Margie more.

The moment
Cassidy's eyes found his, Ben knew with certainty he'd lost the woman he'd go
to his grave loving.
 
Actually if his
head had gotten it through his heart a long time ago, he would have realized he
never stood a chance.
 
She’d grown up
amongst the most virile; therefore, he’d never measure up to her father or
brothers.
 
If not for being such a pigheaded
idiot, she’d admit Sullivan was a long overdue dose of medicine.
 
Ben wasn't going to allow her to make the
mistake of walking away, not this time.

Cassidy was the
epitome of sophistication one minute, a she-devil the next, Sullivan
brewed.
 
He never knew women like her
existed that could completely ransack a person’s life.
 
From this day on nothing would ever be the
same.
 
All he could do from this moment
one was cling to her memory keep it safely hidden to take out and relive the
rest of his life.
 
The ending came long
before the beginning.
 
A bad beginning
that turned into an even worse ending.
  

           
Those seated stood to offer Cassidy
a chair.
 
Refusing with clipped words,
“I'll stand, thank you,” she said no more.

Ms. Brady wasn't,
she couldn't be, the woman who put down a serial killer almost twice her size,
Tempelton's mind scrambled.
 
Even though
her beauty took his breath away, he was the first to find his voice.
 
With an outstretched hand, he introduced
himself, “It's an extreme pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Brady and an honor
to be the first to congratulate you.
 
I'm
here to present you with a medal from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Her glare alone
told Tempelton where he could put the medal.
 
Represent the Government, hell; it was obvious that he was someone who
never dirtied his hands.
 
A peon who only
gave orders, who didn't know ditily shit about danger, or sacrifices.
 
If anyone represented the FBI, it should be
her father, one of her brothers, or Ben, they'd earned the right, Cassidy
thought with tremendous pride.
 
Expressionless eyes held Tempelton's as she refused to return the
gesture, her stare enough to make him shift his weight onto another foot.
 

           
“I can understand under the
circumstances how you must feel, Ms. Brady,” he nervously choked.

           
Wearing a cocky expression, “Do
you?”
 
Words spoken with such sarcasm
they adjusted his ridiculous smile.

Feeling awkward,
as though a student freshly scolded, trying not to stutter, Tempelton
continued, “Allow me to explain.”
 

“Please spare
your efforts; I would not believe anything you say.
 
Finding her father’s eyes with an audible
click, “However, if someone present knows the meaning of truth, by all means be
my guest.”
 

Enough was
enough, Jonathan grumbled.
 
Cassidy was
making everyone pay for his decision.
 
One he'd make again if necessary.
 
If anyone paid the piper, it would be himself.
 
Clearing his throat, Jonathan’s approach
reminded Cassidy of his formidable stature.
 
Intending to intimidate her further, he took another step closer.
 
Still Cassidy held her ground, stiffened
slightly, tilted her chin a notch.
 
Reactions typical of someone prepared for battle, signs of maturity that
placed her on a plateau that set her several notches above the average
person.
 
Though he may have failed at
teaching forgiveness, Jonathan was proud of the individual Cassidy had become.

“I have not
forgotten the meaning of truth, Casey.
 
What you are about to hear I promise is the truth.
 
The insight behind your idea, however
admirable, frightened the hell out of me.
 
Only a parent can understand that my actions came out of love.
 
My decisions would not have been different if
one of your brothers were in danger.
  

Serial killers
breed the worst kind of disaster.
 
They're unpredictable creatures.
 
Though I believed your idea to be brilliant, I must admit I
underestimated you.
 
For that, I
apologize.
 

The very day you
flew to L.A. I contacted a friend at the bureau to learn if they intended to
investigate the murders.
 
They had become
suspicious of several strangulations of prostitutes in other states that
suggested a serial killer was on the loose and were compiling a team as we
spoke.
 
When they asked if I would
consider coming out of retirement to lead the group your brothers insisted that
we stand together.
 
Our fear for you
overruled our heads.

Other than Dan,
the L.A. Police Force was unaware of the pending FBI investigation, a necessary
decision due to suspecting a law enforcement officer.
 
Knowing that Ben could be trusted with your
safety, I contacted him.
 
Considering he
was already undercover attempting to curtail drugs and prostitution, he was in
a perfect position to watch over you.
 
In
the beginning, he adamantly insisted that we tell you everything, but when you
arrived, blinded with love for you, frightened for your safety, he
reconsidered.”

Cassidy could
feel a deluge of tears threatening, her chest shaking from a skipping heartbeat
that made it swell and her breasts ache.
 
Vowing not to become emotional from the beginning, she was determined,
she wouldn't.
 
She didn't look at Ben
either.

“In need of
additional trustworthy men, when Dan presented me with Pinkert’s and Sullivan’s
files I must admit I was skeptical.
  
Aware that they were involved with drugs and prostitution, that their
careers were in jeopardy, Dan still believed in them and their abilities, and
argued they just needed one more chance.”

Sullivan and
Mark's eyes swung rapidly to Dan's, a man they considered to be cold and callus
towards his officers.
 
They too had been
harshly judgmental.
 

“Of course Dan
didn't want you involved.
 
When you care
about someone, you don't want that person to become a sacrificial lamb.
 
Aware of his feelings for you, I knew he'd do
whatever necessary to protect you.
 
Besides, you know how persuasive I can be.”
 
Cassidy’s mouth almost twitched from the
irresistible twinkle in Jonathan’s eyes, almost.

“When Mrs.
Sullivan contacted Dan two years ago regarding a transfer for her son, he
became impressed with Sullivan's record.
  
Since her husband’s death, concerned about Patrick's grief, she believed
relocating would help.
 
At that time, his
qualifications were impeccable.
 
So
convincing was she, Dan could not refuse.”

Braced against
the wall Sullivan's body shriveled inch by inch with each word of enlightenment.
 
Praying his clothing would swallow him whole,
his lids clapped over his eyes in hopes of easing the pain shooting there.
 
Weakness unmercifully attacked his knees.
 
His stomach churned.
 
The mother he thought to be weak, unable to
make decisions, unable to care for herself who leaned on others, wasn't at all
the woman he assumed she was.
 
Dear God
in heaven, he’d forsaken his own mother.
 
Her depression, her state of health wasn't solely due to losing her
husband, she'd also lost a daughter, a son, everything.
 
Shame flared high inside.

When Jonathan
paused briefly, you could hear the wringing of everyone’s heart.
 
Four surrounding walls seemed to, expand from
the enormous pressure of regrets, and sweat from the pending moisture.
 
This was the time in life just when you
believe there is nothing left to learn; when you realize you know nothing at
all.
 
Insight had wielded a double-edged
sword.

“Pinkert and
Sullivan were working together to end corruption within the precinct until I
contacted them separately.
 
I instructed
each that neither was to know the other was working to uncover the identity of
the killer, and deliberately did not inform them of your identity or
involvement.
 
However tempted I was to
beat the crap out of Sullivan for becoming emotionally involved with you, I
chose to trust in fate.
 
Both of you need
to know neither of you disappointed me.”

It was too late
to catch it, the tear streaming down Cassidy's cheek, another beating a path
down Sullivan’s.
 
By Brady will alone,
she remained upright, concealing her sobbing quite nicely beneath material,
flesh and bones.
 
Things weren’t going at
all the way she planned.
 
The scale of
truth was tipping considerably against her.

“You need to
know, Casey the men responsible for Ben's shooting have been arrested.
 
They were bar hopping, flashing around
one-hundred dollar bills.
 
A prostitute
they slapped around one time too many overheard them bragging about shooting
two men down in the street.
 
It took
little effort to bring about a confession.
 

As we suspected,
Ben was not their target.”
 
Jonathan
coughed, the pause helping to clear a sudden rush of emotions blocking his
throat.
 
“You and Mark were.
 
As we now know, the killer had a vendetta against
Sullivan, what better way to succeed than to kill two people he loved.
  
Had it not been for Sullivan's quick
reactions neither of you would be here right now.