YULETIDE PROTECTOR Read online

  Everyone in the tiny room turned their heads at the onslaught of voices and bright lights that greeted the lady attorney as soon as she stepped into the hallway. Reporters.

  “Ms. Parker. Is your client a free man?”

  “Will he still be out on bail?”

  “Did the witness identify him as the Rose Red Rapist?”

  “Who is the witness?”

  Bailey clutched her stomach as a wave of nausea churned inside her. They were closing in like vultures. “Oh, my.”

  Dwight Powers braced his hand beneath her elbow. “Mitch,” he warned.

  “I’m on it.” With a curt nod, Mitch stepped into the hallway. With a booming voice that made Bailey tremble, he took charge of the surging crowd. “This is a police station, not gossip central. Kate Kilpatrick, our task force liaison to the press, will answer your questions downstairs.”

  “Is that Brian Elliot?” a woman asked. “Could we talk to him?”

  “My client is being released on bail, and we’ll be making a formal statement later,” Kenna promised.

  “Joe! Sarge!” Bailey ducked behind the D.A.’s broad back as Chief Taylor called for backup. “Get them out of here. I’m not putting on a press conference for that scum. The reporters can talk to Elliott outside, once we get his ankle bracelet back on him.”

  “Yes, sir.” A dutiful voice from the hallway hastened to do his chief’s bidding. “Ms. Owen. Mr. Knight. This way, people. I’ll escort you down to the front door.”

  As soon as Chief Taylor closed the door behind him, Bailey’s mother, Loretta Austin-Mayweather, spoke from the back of the room. “I don’t like that woman. Do you think Kenna Parker staged that harangue of reporters to frighten Bailey?”

  With the reporters’ protesting voices reduced to a murmur, the D.A. released his grip on Bailey. “It’s a possibility. She’ll use every weapon in her arsenal to prove reasonable doubt to the jury. And since a lot of our case rests on your daughter...”

  Bailey’s chin popped up when he turned his eyes on her. Forcing herself to take easy, calming breaths, Bailey nodded. She had to do this. “Don’t worry, Mr. Powers. You can count on me.”

  Loretta glanced up at the distinguished gentleman standing beside her. Her beautiful features were drawn with worry and fatigue. “Jackson, isn’t there something you can do about Ms. Parker to protect Bailey? I’ve already lost Kyle. I don’t think I could stand to see another child get hurt.”

  Too late for that, Bailey thought as a less-than-kind impulse bubbled up. But her sarcasm quickly turned to sympathy. They’d all been devastated by Kyle’s death, her mother to the point that when Bailey had needed her most, Loretta had been incapable of empathizing with her daughter’s pain. Her mother had lost weight from the stress and turned to a nightly glass or two of wine in order to sleep. For months now, Loretta had deflected any conversation more serious than the weather or the family’s social calendar.

  They all had their ways of coping. Bailey just hoped her efforts to take charge of her own life and to confront her attacker would lead to her own healing.

  “We won’t let that happen,” Harper Pierce assured Loretta. “Will we.” Bailey had to look away from the solicitous expression on the attorney’s handsome face.

  He used to look at her that way—before the assault, when they’d been engaged to be married—when she’d been able to tolerate a flirtatious wink or intimate touch, when she would have been satisfied to become his trophy wife and take her place at his side in Kansas City society. Once, that look would have bolstered her courage. Now, that sly wink was just something else she had to deal with.

  “You can’t talk me out of this, Harper,” Bailey stated firmly. She was no longer the wide-eyed Pollyanna who’d doted on his needs and shared so many interests with him. Understandably, she had to put herself—and now her mother—first. She crossed the room to give her mother a gentle hug, then pulled away, smiling into the blue eyes that matched her own. “But I promise I’ll be as careful as I can, Mother. Mr. Powers has assured my anonymity for as long as possible. And you know my counseling sessions with Dr. Kilpatrick have included lots of advice on ways a woman can keep herself safe. I’ve been listening. I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “I wish you hadn’t cut your hair, dear.” Without even acknowledging her daughter’s attempt to reassure her, Loretta reached up to smooth Bailey’s bangs back into the short wisps at her temple. “Those long, blonde waves were so beautiful.”

  Yes, but the short haircut was all about being safe, not making the pages of a fashion magazine. Having a man grab her by the hair and sling her to the floor or into the back of a van had a tendency to make a woman want to remove any “handles” that made it easy for an attacker to latch on. “Mother—”

  “Jackson?” Loretta clung to her husband’s arm, turning to Bailey’s stepfather for the answers she wanted. “Can’t you make this whole mess go away?”

  Bailey’s stepfather wasn’t oblivious to the emotional undercurrents in the room. But his typical response was to try to fix whatever the problem might be. He slid a supportive arm around his wife’s waist. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect this family, dear.” He turned to the D.A. “Do you think Ms. Parker will bring that ugly business with my stepson into the trial?”

  “I had nothing to do with that,” Bailey protested. She wasn’t sure when or where her brother had gotten so caught up with greed that his reckless business dealings had made him desperate enough to kidnap and attempt to murder their half sister, Charlotte. But she knew the devious, violent man who’d been arrested, and subsequently murdered in prison, had no resemblance to the brother she’d once loved and admired. A different sort of character ran through her veins. Something smarter. Stronger. She hoped. “What Kyle did has nothing to do with what happened to me.”

  But Jackson was looking to the men in the room for a solution, not her. The D.A. understood his concern. “It’s possible she could bring your family history into the courtroom, use it to taint the veracity of Bailey’s testimony. If there’s one liar in the family, why not two? I’d argue irrelevancy, of course.”

  “I’m not lying,” Bailey insisted. “And my head wasn’t so scrambled that I’ve forgotten what I heard and saw and went through that night.”

  The burly D.A. nodded. “I’m counting on it. The KCPD task force has given me plenty of forensic and circumstantial evidence to make a case. But science and legal jargon can overwhelm a jury. I need you to be the face of all his victims. The jury will sympathize with you and with your eyewitness testimony. They’ll convict him, and the judge will put Elliott away for the rest of his life. Kenna Parker, however, is going to do everything she can to discredit you on the witness stand.”

  Chief Taylor, who put together the task force that had finally brought in the Rose Red Rapist, muttered a choice word beneath his breath. “Leave it to Elliott to buy the best. Parker’s already got him out on bail. From what I hear, he got his ex-wife, Mara Boyd-Elliott who runs the Journal, to post it.”

  “Sounds like Elliott’s got all kinds of friends we’ll be up against.”

  Chief Taylor agreed. “I have somebody watching him around the clock, but he’s running his business and buying Christmas presents, acting like he’s facing traffic court instead of twenty or more years in prison. Kenna’s only been in Kansas City for a year, and she’s already earned a cutthroat reputation by winning cases.” The senior cop pointed a warning finger at the D.A. “My task force worked for more than a year putting this case together and finally bringing him in. It’ll demoralize my team, if not this entire city, if Elliott wins in court. Can you beat her, Dwight?”

  “I win cases, too. Against tougher odds than this.” To his credit, Dwight Powers didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by either the reputation of his opposing counsel, pressure from the police departm
ent, or the wealth and influence Jackson Mayweather commanded.

  Top attorneys. Top cop. Top society movers and shakers. Ex-fiancé. A nervous city. Her own fragile sense of confidence. They were all formidable opponents to stand up against in order to make herself heard. But Bailey finally shut down the memories and fear, and hastened to reassure Dwight Powers that he could 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 Bailey hugged her purse and coat to her waist, waiting expectantly for him to explain why Chief Taylor had asked him to chat with her, a protective force of allies circled behind her.

  Loretta Austin-Mayweather’s disgusted snort was audible, her blue eyes unforgiving. “Jackson, please. I’d like to go home. I have nothing to say to this man. Bailey, come.”

  Yes, he’d brought the Rich Girl Killer murder investigation to their home, and had been obligated to interrogate each and every one of them. And though Bailey’s brother, Kyle Austin, hadn’t ultimately been the murderer Spencer had sought, he had been guilty of other crimes, including embezzlement, stalking his own stepsister and kidnapping. And the real killer, who hadn’t appreciated a copycat using his M.O., had ultimately murdered the Austin heir while he’d been in prison.

  Since Spencer had no children—no family at all, to speak of—he supposed he couldn’t truly understand a parent’s loss of a child. He could only play whipping boy and hold back the reminder that without KCPD’s intervention, the entire Mayweather family might have fallen victim to Kyle Austin’s desperate actions and the killer who’d threatened them.

  “Detective.” Jackson Mayweather’s acknowledgment was more civil, but clearly the man had a meeting to get to, or an eagerness to defuse his wife’s displeasure, because he looped his arm around Loretta’s shoulder and started down the hallway. “Come along, dear. I’ll have the driver meet us at the front door.”

  “Bailey.” Loretta practically clicked her tongue, calling her daughter to join them.

  Despite a deep sigh that indicated she was schooling her patience, Bailey simply smiled and turned her head. “Detective Montgomery is the leader of the Rose Red Rapist investigation. He probably needs to discuss something with me.”