LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

rely on her to help send Brian Elliott to prison. “I can talk about the rose he left with me, the van he transported me in, how he dumped me in that alley, and what happened during the assault. Once I came to in that horrible room, I remember everything. He bathed me afterward and disinfected me with vinegar.” She ignored her mother’s pained gasp. “I’m not confused about any of it.”

      The burly D.A. pulled a pen from his suit jacket and jotted a note onto the yellow legal pad he held. “You’ll confirm the surgical mask and stocking cap he wore, as well as a description of the construction site where he took you?”

      Bailey nodded. She could do this. She had to stand up and face her attacker in the courtroom or she’d never be able to stand up for herself and feel any sense of strength or self-worth again. “I’ll tell everything.”

      “Oh, sweetie. Surely not everything.” Loretta crossed the room to squeeze her daughter’s hand. “You were always such a sensitive child. And after this nightmare—”

      “Mother.” Just because she’d never been called on to deal with something like this before didn’t mean she couldn’t. Bailey pulled her hand away. “I’m twenty-six years old, not a child. I can do this. I need your support, not a lecture to talk me out of doing it.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the empty lineup room. “If I don’t stand up against that man now, then I’ll be his victim all over again—and for the rest of my life.” Her hand turned into a fist as angry tears stung her eyes. “And he doesn’t get to win.”

      Jackson came up beside Loretta, draping an arm around her as he squeezed Bailey’s shoulder. “We understand that this is part of your recovery, dear. But one of the hardest things in the world is for a parent to see her child suffer. Be patient with us. We’ll support whatever you decide. Just know we love you and that we’ll be here for you.”

      As the tears welled up in her mother’s eyes, Bailey sniffed back her own. She nodded her thanks and turned to Dwight. “Anything you ask,” she vowed. “Anything Ms. Parker asks, I’ll answer it. It can’t be any harder than knowing he could go free to do the same thing to another woman. I want to feel safe again. I want him rotting in prison.”

      With a curt nod, Dwight packed his briefcase. “So do I.” He latched it shut before shaking Bailey’s hand. “I’ll see you Monday morning at the courthouse when the trial begins, then. With your testimony, I’ll have a guilty verdict by Christmas. And Brian Elliott will never celebrate another New Year’s with his family and friends. Chief Taylor?”

      “Thank you, Miss Austin, for being so courageous.” The police chief shook her hand, too, before reaching behind him to open the door. “I’ve got a roll-call meeting to get to. I’ll have an officer walk you out.”

      “I’ve got it, sir.” A tall detective with crisp, golden-red hair straightened from the wall across the hallway where he’d been leaning. Without a wasted motion, he buttoned the front of his steel-gray suit jacket over the badge and gun belted at his trim waist. “Miss Austin.”

      Bailey halted in the doorway as her eyes locked on to Spencer Montgomery’s cool granite gaze. He was a decade her senior, with nothing boyish about him to soften his chiseled, unreadable face. He was an old family foe who’d investigated her brother’s illegal activities—meaning that most of their past conversations had put one or the other of them on the defensive, as he grilled her with questions or she did what she could to protect her family. But, as leader of the KCPD task force, he’d turned those same dogged, calculating investigative skills to solving the string of crimes committed by the Rose Red Rapist. That made him the one man most responsible for Brian Elliott’s arrest. And for that, he would always be her hero.

      Still, Spencer Montgomery was probably here to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake in identifying his suspect, that she hadn’t screwed up his year-long investigation. Despite an innate appreciation for his mature intelligence and faintly military bearing, Bailey’s pulse rate went on wary alert. “Detective Montgomery.”

      “If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you.”

      Judging by the grim line of his mouth, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever he had to say.

      Chapter Two

      She’d cut her hair.

      Spencer noted the change in Bailey Austin’s appearance—noted that the short, sun-kissed waves made her look a lot more grown-up than he remembered. She’d always been pretty, but the changes he noticed today made her...interesting. But just as quickly as he decided he liked the new look, he dismissed the revelation.

      Any latent attraction he had to the woman was irrelevant. The last time he’d seen Bailey, she’d been in a hospital bed, beaten within an inch of her life—the victim of a violent rape by the man his task force had eventually identified and arrested, entrepreneur and real estate developer Brian Elliott. He should be content to see the bruises gone and the vibrancy back in her azure-blue eyes instead of noticing the leaner curves beneath the wool slacks and cashmere sweater she wore and the way those sculpted wisps of hair gleamed like spun gold, even under the fluorescent lights of the precinct hallway.

      No, he couldn’t notice those things at all. He was here to do his job. Period. And if that job included babysitting a fragile debutante-in-distress from Kansas City society, then so be it.

      Besides, Chief Taylor was clapping him on the shoulder, demanding his attention. “You’re going to see this job through to the bitter end, aren’t you, Spence.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “I knew there was a reason I made you point man on the task force.” Mitch Taylor might be graying at the temples, but the man was still the powerhouse of the Fourth Precinct. He was the boss whose recommendation could make or break a promotion. Spencer respected the dedicated cop who’d worked his way up the ranks at KCPD. And since his goal was to do the same, getting asked to do a favor for the boss was an opportunity he didn’t intend to squander.

      “I appreciate the faith you had in us, sir.”

      “Your work isn’t done yet,” the chief reminded him, referring either to the outcome of Brian Elliott’s trial or the task force’s ongoing search for the Rose Red Rapist’s accomplice—a woman they’d dubbed The Cleaner because of her efforts to destroy evidence and take out witnesses to Elliott’s crimes. “You remember our chat yesterday?”

      I want you to check in on Miss Austin from time to time. Make yourself available to her in case anything comes up that could spook her out of testifying against Elliott.

      “I do.”

      Spencer had walked out of Chief Taylor’s office understanding his mission. The Cleaner hadn’t shown up on their radar since they’d made the arrest and the rapes had stopped. But then Elliott had been under KCPD’s watch 24/7 from the moment his ex-wife had posted bail. Their vigilance might have driven the accomplice underground or out of town—or maybe whatever sick relationship the woman shared with a serial rapist had failed now that he was no longer able to commit the crimes that had terrorized Kansas City for several years. Or, as both Mitch Taylor and Spencer suspected, the woman could be biding her time, waiting to make some big move to save her man again.

      Until The Cleaner was identified and put out of commission, Spencer intended to keep his task force on full alert. Scoring a few points with the boss along the way couldn’t hurt, either.

      The chief gestured to the group filing out of the look-at room behind Bailey. “I take it you know everyone here?”

      Spencer nodded. While he couldn’t claim to be friends with anyone in Bailey’s entourage, they were certainly well acquainted. “We’ve met several times. On this investigation and the Rich Girl Killer case.”

      “You closed that one for me, too.” Mitch Taylor praised him before winking a brown eye at Bailey. “I leave you in good hands, Miss Austin.” The chief turned and hurried down the hallway after D.A. Powers. “Dwight, wait up.”

      While

Скачать книгу