Cavanaugh Stakeout. Marie Ferrarella

because Seamus’s car was stolen. But it quickly becomes a homicide investigation when bodies of women start piling up, beginning with the one whose blood was found in the trunk of Seamus’s stolen vehicle. To complicate matters, as a favor for a friend searching for her missing daughter, insurance investigator Nikola Kowalski begins looking into Seamus’s case. It seems that the missing daughter’s fingerprint has turned up on the back of Seamus’s rearview mirror. Try as he might, Finn can’t get the annoyingly inquisitive Nik to back off. And soon, almost against his will, he realizes that he doesn’t want to. Meanwhile, more and more young women are having their lives snuffed out while Finn and Nik find themselves going around in circles, following clues that lead nowhere.

      As always, I thank you for taking the time to pick up and read one of my books. I sincerely hope it entertains you, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.

      All my best,

       Marie Ferrarella

      To

      Charlie.

      Just When I Think My Heart

      Can’t Be Any Fuller,

      You Do Something Wonderful

      And Make It Grow

      A Complete Size Larger.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Dedication

       Prologue

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Chapter 3

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       About the Publisher

       Prologue

      He hated the expression “feeling your age.” More than that, the onetime robbery detective hated the fact that getting in behind the wheel of his dark blue sedan was now a two-step, sometimes three-step, procedure that involved lowering himself into his seat, then physically picking up and lifting his left leg in order to maneuver it into position inside the vehicle.

      Not that he would ever actually admit as much to anyone. After all, he was Seamus Cavanaugh, the eighty-one-year-old patriarch of the Cavanaugh clan, a family known and respected for its many members within the law-enforcement community.

      Cavanaughs didn’t complain, not when it came to things they had no control over.

      Like time.

      That sort of thing came under the heading of resigned acceptance.

      If his sons ever suspected how often various parts of his body ached and gave him trouble, there would be no end to their trying to talk him into permanently retiring from the security firm that he had founded.

      A laugh rumbled deep within his chest. As if that would ever happen.

      He had tried retirement once and had concluded that retirement, even retirement in comfort, was for the birds—definitely not for him. He liked being active, even if that activity came with a price, like painful knees, aching shoulders and a back that insisted on periodically acting up.

      To