at the car. It squawked in response as four side locks sprang up at attention.
Bridget paused beside the vehicle. “You think he knows more than he’s saying?”
Josh laughed shortly. He looked at her over the car’s roof. “It would be hard for him to know less. Let’s talk to her boyfriend and find out if he knows who she was partying with last night.”
She nodded. “Maybe one of them remembers something about this guy who was staring at her.”
Getting into the front passenger seat, Bridget buckled up and then let out a loud sigh. After Josh pulled out of the area and back onto the road again, she turned toward him and asked, “So, what kind of a dog?” When he didn’t answer and just looked at her as if she had lapsed into monosyllabic gibberish, she added, “For your mother. You said you were getting a dog for your mother, remember?”
Now her question made sense. But he’d mentioned the dog over an hour ago, before they had gone in to question the bartender.
“Boy, talk about your long pauses.” Josh laughed. “That almost came out of nowhere.”
It was all connected in her head. She didn’t see why he was having such a hard time with it. “Well, talking about the dog in your mother’s future didn’t exactly seem appropriate while we were questioning that bartender about a homicide right behind the club where he works,” she told Josh, then got back on track. “So? Have you decided what kind you’re getting?”
He hadn’t gone much beyond the fact that he was getting his mother a canine companion sometime in the near future. If she had a pet to take care of, she wouldn’t have as much time to nag him about settling down and giving her grandchildren.
“I thought maybe one of those fluffy dogs,” he answered.
Off the top of her head, she could think of about twenty breeds that matched that description. “Well, that narrows it down.”
She’d managed to stir his curiosity. “Why are you so interested in what kind of dog I’m going to wind up giving to my mother?”
She was just trying to be helpful. “A couple of the Cavanaughs actually don’t strap on a gun in the morning. One of them is a vet who also works with Aurora’s canine division, does their routine checkups, takes care of them if they get hurt, things like that. I think her name’s Patience. Anyway, I thought you might want to talk to her, ask her some questions about the best kind of dog for your mother.”
That didn’t sound like a half-bad idea, he supposed since he didn’t really know what he was doing. When he was a kid, he’d never owned a dog, never wanted to get attached to anything after his father’s death.
“Maybe I will.” He flashed Bridget a grin as he sailed through a yellow light. “When I talk to her, can I tell her that her ‘Cousin Bridget’ sent me?”
If he was going to use every topic to make another joke about her new family, then she shouldn’t have even bothered making the suggestion.
She waved a dismissive hand at her partner. “Forget I said anything.”
He was silent for a moment, as if content to let the quiet in the car prevail. But he’d been chewing on something for a while now. This last display of irritation on Bridget’s part told him that his observation over the last two months was probably right. Ever since his partner had learned about the mix-up in the hospital nearly fifty years ago, a mix-up that made her a Cavanaugh instead of a Cavelli, she’d seemed somewhat preoccupied and not quite her usual self.
“This really bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asked in a voice devoid of all teasing.
“You getting a dog for your mother instead of growing up and having a meaningful relationship with a woman that lasts longer than a half-time program at the Super Bowl?” she asked glibly, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “No, not really.”
She’d used a lot of words to describe a topic that she supposedly didn’t care about, but that was a question to explore some other time, Josh thought. Right now, he was more concerned about Bridget’s state of mind regarding the recent change in her immediate family. He might get on her case from time to time, but his three-year relationship with Bridget was the longest one he’d ever had with a woman, besides his mother. Beneath the barbs, the quips and the teasing, he really did care about Bridget. Cared about her a great deal. Sometimes more than he should, he told himself. He definitely didn’t like seeing her like this.
“You know damn well I’m talking about the fact that your father found out that he’d been switched at birth with another male newborn and that he—and consequently you and those brothers and sisters of yours—are really Cavanaughs.”
Bridget blew out a breath as she stared straight ahead at the road. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about, I was just hoping you’d take the hint and back off.” She spared him a frown. “I should have known better.”
Yeah, she should have, Josh thought. “So why does this bother you so much?” he wanted to know. “I know people in the department who’d give their right arm to wake up one morning and find out that they’re related to the Cavanaughs. The very name carries a lot of weight in the department. I mean, think of it, they’re an entire family of law enforcement agents and not a dirty one in the lot.” He wasn’t saying anything that they both didn’t already know. “Hell, it’s like the city’s own personal branch of Camelot.”
“So what’s your point?” she asked, annoyed.
Driving into the parking lot of an apartment complex, Josh brought the car to a stop in the first empty space he saw.
“My point is, what’s the problem you seem to be having with this?” he asked.
He was a guy. She didn’t expect him to understand. Hell, she could barely understand all the tangled emotions herself. This unexpected twist made her life seem so confused, so jumbled up. There were times when she didn’t know what to think, what to feel.
“The problem, oh insensitive one, is what do I do about my ‘old family?’ Uncle Adam, Uncle Tony, Aunt Angie, Aunt Anna.” She went down the list of the people she’d believed until two months ago were her father’s brothers and sisters. “Are they just strangers to me now? What are they to me and to the others?” she demanded with frustration. “Not to mention what are they to my dad? How am I supposed to regard them now that I know we’re not blood relatives?” she asked, frustrated.
Everything had turned upside down for her. She couldn’t be laid-back about the whole thing, the way her older brother Tom was. For her, all this had brought up real questions, real concerns. Moreover, it had left her with a dilemma on her hands that she had no idea how to resolve. Who was her family?
Josh still didn’t really see what the problem was. Maybe because, in a remote way, he’d found himself in the same sort of position, except that in his case, the positions had been reversed. He’d lost his real father and found himself on the receiving end of a whole handful of generous “fathers.”
“Well, speaking for myself, the word ‘family’ doesn’t strictly refer to people with the same blood in their veins as you. After my dad was killed, a lot of his old buddies made it a point to come around to check on my mom and me to see if we were okay. The lot of them took turns looking out for us. After a while, it was like having five surrogate fathers around.
