“So, you think he could be hiding out in one of the private quarters?”
“It’s probable since there is nowhere else for him to be,” I say.
“Well, let’s go search for our suspect then,” she says, and we all stand up.
Another conductor comes through the car, and I stop him.
“Excuse me, could you tell us where the private cars are located?” I ask.
“Do you have a ticket?” he asks, looking me up and down.
“No, we,” I say, pointing to the group of us, “Have a badge and search warrant, and we want to see your private cars.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammers. “Right this way, officers.”
“Agents,” Heath and I say at the same time Nora and Shane say, “Detectives.”
He turns looking at us, and I’m sure it was confusing for him because then, he says, “Can I see some IDs.”
Heath and I show him our FBI Badges while Shane and Nora show him their badges.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Right this way.”
He leads us past the cafe through a door I never noticed. It’s a long hallway, and there are several closed doors to the left side.
Shane tries one of the room doors, and it’s locked.
“Open it,” he tells the conductor, and the man tries to argue.
“We can’t do that. It goes against our patron’s privacy.”
“My search warrant says I have every right,” Shane tells him.
The man’s face blanches, and he unlocks the door. Ironically, the room is empty.
“If the room is empty, why was the door locked?” Nora asks, and the man’s face grows paler.
“That room…is…sometimes used…by the staff,” he stammers out.
“We are looking for Cavanaugh, AKA Casanova, where is he?” I ask, no longer in the mood for games.
“Down there,” he whispers.
“Let’s go,” I say, following behind the conductor.
We walk down three more doors, I can hear noises coming from the room that the conductor stops at.
“No fucking way,” Heath says.
“Open it,” I tell him.
“But,” the man starts, and I give him a look.
“Open it,” I grit out, not in the mood to be nice anymore.
He unlocks the door, and I slam it open.
“What the fuck?” Cavanaugh screeches out as he tries to jump up off the bed. The female he is currently in bed with screams and tries to cover herself up.
“Sorry to ruin your fun, Cassanova, however we have some questions for you,” I tell him.
“Bitch, I gave you your opportunity, now you are going to have to wait your turn. Plus, you have too many people,” he says.
Shane gets to him before I can say anything and grabs him by the neck.
“I told you last time, don’t make me say it again. Handcuff him,” he says, throwing Cavanaugh towards the door.
“What the hell? You’re cops?”
“No, they are Detectives with Boston homicide, we,” I say, pointing to myself and Heath, “Are FBI agents, and you are wanted for questioning.”
“Can’t I get dressed first?” he asks.
“Don’t you want everyone to see Casanova’s goods?” I ask, looking serious.
“Do you like what you see?” he asks.
Without thinking, both Heath and I say, “What’s to see?”
