Читать книгу Kansas City Cowboy - Julie Miller - Страница 10

“You let Janie close up the store all by herself that late at night?” Boone braced one hand on the cash register and leaned over the counter at the Robin’s Nest Florist Shop.

“I trust her with my keys. She’s my assistant manager … Trusted. She was my—”

“After eleven o’clock? In the dark? Knowing that bastard was running around out there?”

“We close at nine p.m. Why was she here that late?”

“You tell me.”

Boone couldn’t keep the raw tinge of frustration out of his voice, and knew that the clipped tone and deep pitch and bulk of his shoulders were probably more intimidation than the brown-haired woman hugging the design book to her chest could handle. But damn it all, that redheaded detective in the suit had run him out of the alley where Janie had been found, and then set up a brick wall of a K-9 cop and his German shepherd sidekick to keep him away from the crime scene.

Normally, he was a patient man, a methodical investigator. But this crime burned far too close to the heart. His family was his responsibility, and he’d already failed if his sister had suffered so and ended up dead. He needed answers to why this unthinkable act of violence had happened—and he needed them sooner rather than later if he was going to have any chance of assuaging the guilt and rage and grief thundering along with every blood cell in his veins. If KCPD wouldn’t let him comb through the crime scene with fresh eyes, then his next best avenue was to retrace Janie’s steps yesterday and start talking to the people she’d had contact with.

The jingle of a bell over the shop’s front door should have served as a warning to rethink this interview.

“We’re closed today.” The woman glanced at the intruder, maybe hoping for a polite escape, but the approaching customer only made him lower his voice and lean in closer.

“How long had Janie been working for you?”

The shopkeeper’s blue eyes darted back to his. “Almost a year.”

“And those were her regular hours? Did she close every night?”

“We traded off.” She tried to look away again.

“Was it a regular routine? The same nights each week? Something that anyone watching this place for any length of time could pick up on?”

The blue eyes widened in shock and focused on him again. “I didn’t realize I was putting her in danger like that. Yes, I suppose she’d had the same schedule for a couple of months—”

“Are you Robin?” Boone sniffed jasmine in the air a split-second before the softly articulate voice beside him spoke. The blonde in the brown trench coat rested a warning hand on his forearm, and the skin beneath his jacket danced at the unexpected touch.

Suspicion colored the shopkeeper’s voice. “Yes?”

The lady cop psychologist who smelled better than any fragrance in the floral shop extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Kate Kilpatrick, KCPD. I’m a psychologist with the department and a public liaison officer.”

The other woman set her design book on the counter and reached over to shake Kate’s hand. “I’m Robin Carter. I own this shop.”

Dr. Kate’s steady voice and calm presence were quickly defusing both the florist’s fears and Boone’s own unthinking rudeness. “My colleague, Sheriff Harrison, here brings up a good point. For women, especially, it’s smart to vary your schedule from time to time when it comes to personal safety. I know it can be hard to close the shop at different times, but don’t work late every night, park in different locations, have someone meet you here from time to time, and so on.” Perhaps sensing that he had a dubious control over his emotions again, she pulled her hand away and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. “People with predictable routines make themselves easier targets for a mugger or rapist to ambush.”

The shopkeeper’s skin paled beneath the blush on her cheeks. “I never thought of that. I’ll make sure my entire staff knows. Thank you.”

Boone’s emotions might be in check, but that didn’t mean he was finished here. “Ms. Carter and I were just having a little chat.”

“Say, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Did Kate Kilpatrick just nudge her shoulder between him and the counter? Pushing him out of this conversation? Her move was subtle, putting a few more inches of protective distance between him and the woman he wanted to talk to. “Where were you last night? When was the last time you actually saw or talked to Miss Harrison? And was she alone?”

Fine. Questions he would have asked. As long as they got answered, he wouldn’t nudge back.

“I had to leave early in the afternoon for a doctor’s appointment.” Kate waited expectantly—a patient ploy that often made a witness nervous enough to keep on sharing information to fill the silence. The woman had interrogation skills, for sure. Robin Carter tucked a lock of coffee-colored hair behind her ear and continued. “I was at the Lyddon-Wells Clinic. I’ve been going through in vitro procedures, trying to get pregnant via a sperm donor. You know, single career woman—biological clock ticking and all that. Yesterday the doctor called me in for a pregnancy report. Janie knew it was important to me, so she volunteered to switch nights with me. I left at three-thirty, and except for any customers she might have had, she was alone.”

“Did you get the results you wanted?”

Robin hugged her arms in front of her and shook her head. “It didn’t take this time, either. He suggested I look at adopting.”

Boone didn’t pretend to know about how a woman might feel if her hopes for a pregnancy fell through. His ex had put off starting a family year after year until he finally realized that she’d put their marriage on hold, too.

But apparently, Kate understood. “I’m sorry about the baby. Do you know who Janie was seeing?”

Boone tipped his hat back on his head at the abrupt change of topic. Catching the witness off guard was another smart tactic. He’d learned all the same interrogation strategies, but Dr. Kate’s skills put his to shame today.

“No,” Robin answered. “But I think it was pretty serious.”

That was the first Boone had heard of a new man in his sister’s life. Screw keeping his distance. He leaned forward again, his chest butting into Kate’s shoulder. “Janie was in a serious relationship?”

The shopkeeper’s gaze shot back to his, and Boone let Dr. Kate shrug him into a less-threatening position again. “She stopped talking about her love life, er, who she was dating, these last few weeks. Wouldn’t go out for a drink with me after work anymore. Now that I think about it, she was secretive a lot lately. I’d interrupt a personal call and she’d quickly hang up. I invited her to bring a date to a staff party and she came alone. Left early, too.”

“You don’t have a name for this mysterious boyfriend?” Boone asked.

“I don’t remember her ever mentioning it. And if he came to the shop, I never knew about it. She didn’t treat anyone more special than her usual friendly self.” Robin pulled a tissue from the apron she wore and dabbed at the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss that smile. Sorry I can’t be more help.”

Kate reached across the counter to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “You’ve been a big help already, Robin.”

Kate might be signing off on this interview, but Boone needed more. “Do you have any idea where she would have met this guy?”

For the first time during the entire conversation, Kate tipped her face up to his and looked him straight in the eye. Reprimand noted. And ignored. He opened his mouth to follow up, but Kate beat him to the punch. “I understand what you mean about devoting all that time to your career.” He’d bet there was a kinder, gentler expression on her face when she turned back to the shopkeeper. “Other things get … overlooked.” And then she was stepping back, nodding toward the front door. “Shall we?”

Boone ignored the unspoken command to exit stage right and pulled out his wallet to hand Robin Carter a business card. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to call me … or KCPD,” he added before Kate could correct him. He paused for a moment to tip the brim of his hat to Robin. “I’m sorry about earlier, ma’am. I’m a little upset today. But I appreciate your cooperation.”

The woman sniffed back her tears and summoned a smile, appeased by the apology he’d owed her. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Sheriff. Janie was a sunny, vivacious spirit—and so talented. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You two were good friends?” Robin nodded. “Then I’m sorry for your loss, too. I’ll send word about the arrangements for her services when I know them.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

Finally content to leave—for now—Boone turned to the door and gestured for Kate to precede him.

He’d barely closed the door behind them when Kate stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She crossed her arms and tilted her face to challenge him. “You’re going to scare away all our potential witnesses if you dive down their throats like that.”

“I’m sorry if I scared the lady, but she had answers we needed.”

“No, she had answers I needed. That the task force needed.”

The lady’s dander was up, all the way from the top of that honey-gold hair down to the soles of those ridiculously high, undeniably sexy heels. “Did Montgomery send you after me? I don’t think your lead detective likes me,” he asked.

Those mossy-green eyes held his for a moment before she turned and strolled up the street. “Where’s your truck?”

Boone grinned behind her. Nice dodge. He’d take that as a yes, that Spencer Montgomery had called in cool, calm and eye-catching Dr. Kate here to corral him away from the investigation. He moved into step beside her. “How do you know I drive a truck?”

“You’re a cowboy, aren’t you?”

The muscles around his mouth relaxed with an actual laugh after too many hours of being clenched tight to stop up the emotions roiling inside him. He pointed a few parking spaces farther ahead to the black, diesel-powered Ford he’d driven in from Grangeport. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I could tell that those boots weren’t just for show.”

Boone glanced down at the brown leather that was scuffed and broken in, and, okay, maybe tinged with a bit of the aroma that had driven his ex-wife off the ranch and out of his life. Although Boone hated to think of anyone as a stereotype, he supposed the Stetson and boots and badge stated exactly who he was, inside and out.

He wondered if the sophisticated facade and cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor said who Kate Kilpatrick was on the inside, as well.

Any curiosity about the pretty blonde vanished at her next comment. “The M.E. said she’ll release your sister’s body early tomorrow morning. Maybe you should be making those arrangements you mentioned instead of scaring away my witnesses.”

He stopped beside the truck, his shoulders lifting with a weary sigh. “I can help. I’ve been at this job a long time and I know Janie better than any of you.”

“I’m no rookie, either, Sheriff. I know Kansas City. And I know the Rose Red Rapist and how he works.” She pulled a hand from her pocket and turned to face him once more. What was it about this woman’s gentle touch on his arm that made each skin cell wake and warm beneath her fingers? “I’m also a psychologist. I’ve worked with several officers who’ve had to deal with the loss of a partner or a loved one, or even the death of a suspect. You need time. You need to grieve. You need to help the others in your family who are dealing with this loss, too.” The warmth and subtle connection between them left when she pulled her hand back into the pocket of her coat. “Let us do this difficult work.”

“Dr.Kate….” That’s how he’d heard her introduce herself more than once, and that’s the name that landed on his tongue. “I’m the oldest brother in my family, and our parents are gone. Janie was my responsibility. Finding who did this feels like my responsibility, too.”

She nodded, perhaps understanding his guilt, or perhaps just eager to move him along out of the police department’s way. “Please. Go find a hotel for the night. Did you come here by yourself? Is there someone you should call?”

Dr. Kate could maneuver a conversation six ways to Sunday, and a man had to stay on his toes to keep up—or probe beneath that chilly control she maintained over her thoughts and feelings. He was interested in taking on the challenge, but right now he was too tuckered out emotionally to be a worthy adversary. So he relented and let her chase him off KCPD territory. For now.

“I’m a big boy, ma’am. Been taking care of myself a long time now.” Boone circled around the hood of the truck and opened the door, but paused before climbing inside. “I’m glad Montgomery sent you to handle me. I’d have punched him by now.”

Her chin tipped up as though his bluntness had taken her aback. And then her pink lips curved into a soft smile. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

That glimpse of warmth through a chink in her armor made Boone feel like smiling, too. Yep, there was at least one thing he liked about Kansas City. He climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. Then he pulled a contact card from his wallet and rolled down the passenger-side window to share one last word with Dr. Kate Kilpatrick of KCPD before driving away. “You need me for anything—you find out anything about this murder—I expect a call.”

She stepped forward to take his card and it disappeared into the pocket of her trench coat along with her hand. “I will.”

“See you later, Doc.”

“JUST ONE QUOTE, Kate.” Vanessa Owen had shown up at the precinct offices late in the afternoon, thankfully without her cameraman, and ambushed Kate the moment she stepped off the elevator onto the third floor. “I know we have history—and I know a lot of it was pretty bad—but this isn’t personal.”

“Nice speech.” Kate took note of the visitor and press badges the dark-haired reporter wore around her neck, and quickly chucked the idea of having the doe-eyed beauty tossed out on her generous backside. Kate was in charge of public relations for the task force, after all. But that didn’t mean she had to stand here and give Vanessa an exclusive interview when she’d already made a formal statement to the press earlier in the day. Skirting around the reporter, Kate headed for the temporary refuge of her private office. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

When she turned the corner into the hallway leading to her office, a uniformed policeman with a buzz cut of brown hair jumped out of the chair where he’d been waiting and startled her. “Dr.Kilpatrick?”

“Pete.” Kate pressed a hand over her racing heart and retreated half a step from the frantic young man who’d assisted her with controlling the crowd of reporters just that morning. “Do we have an appointment?”

“No. But my girlfriend called me at work and she said—”

“Pete.” Kate stopped him before whatever the latest demand his girlfriend had requested of him turned into a full-blown rant. “I can’t hold your hand through every crisis. Now we’ve talked about ways to improve your communication skills. Try one of those strategies to tell her what you’re feeling. You have to practice them.”

“But she said she’d leave me.”

Vanessa invited herself into the conversation. “Officer, you interrupted us. I suggest you make that appointment.”

“Vanessa.”

“Five minutes of your time, Kate.” Now Vanessa was ignoring the young man altogether. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Keeping the irritation out of her tone, Kate patted the officer’s shoulder, giving him a little encouragement. “Go on home, Pete. Talk to her the way we practiced. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll try to fit you into my schedule tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” He glanced up at Vanessa, then back to Kate. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You don’t deserve five minutes.” As soon as Officer Estes had disappeared around the corner, Kate resumed the walk to her office. “You can’t talk to my clients that way.”

“You were dismissing him already.” Vanessa quickly caught up with her, refusing to be ignored. “Look, we are both professional women doing our jobs. Let me help you. Let me help the department’s reputation—”

At that, Kate stopped and faced her. “There’s nothing wrong with KCPD’s reputation.”

Vanessa arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve been investigating the Rose Red Rapist for months—even longer, if the department’s claim is true that he’s the same man who committed a series of unsolved attacks and then disappeared for a few years.” Vanessa pulled a phone from her purse and prepared to text whatever Kate might say. “Give me something to help calm the fears of the women in this city. I’m happy to give them your spiel about smarter ways to protect themselves. But my viewers want information about the crimes that have already happened, not just a public service announcement. They want to know KCPD is making progress. That there’s hope the crimes will stop and that this deviant will be put away for the rest of his life.”

“I hope you’re not preaching gloom and doom to your viewers.” Kate hiked her own purse straps higher onto her shoulder and unfastened the top button of her chocolate-brown coat, resigning herself to having this conversation. “Perhaps if you put a more positive spin on things, the department would be less cautious about sharing their information with you.”

“I don’t preach. I tell the facts. But I need some facts to talk about.”

Kate glanced over at the late-afternoon bustle of activity in and around the detectives’ cubicles. The door to the boardroom where the task force was gathering had already closed. There was no way she could indulge herself and pass off this inevitable chat with Vanessa Owen to someone else. She unfastened two more buttons on her trench coat, buying a few seconds to consider what she could say that wouldn’t compromise the investigation, yet would get her onetime friend out of her hair. “You want facts? We’re working on the serial rapist case, around the clock, utilizing experts from every department.”

“Blah, blah, blah. That’s rhetoric from the commissioner’s office and Chief Taylor, and you know it. I want the scoop from the task force, from the detectives who are on the front line of this investigation.”

Kate turned her head to the side and inhaled a deep breath to chill her temper. This woman had a lot of nerve. But she didn’t get to ruffle Kate’s composure. Not anymore. “Have you ever not gotten what you wanted, Vanessa?”

She could sense the let’s-keep-our-personal-lives-out-of-it argument forming on the other woman’s expression again. Kate didn’t want to hear it.

“Fine. Just know that whatever I share with you I’ll have to tell Gabriel Knight and the rest of the press following the investigation. The department can’t show favoritism to one media outlet over another.”

“Not a problem.” Vanessa smiled and raised her phone again, apparently relishing the victory of besting a former sorority sister again. “I’m listening. I can still get my report on the late news. Knight will have to wait until morning for his paper to come out.”

Funny how that competitive spirit had once challenged Kate to accomplish so much. And all the time she’d been busy accomplishing, Vanessa had been stealing behind Kate’s back, having an affair with her husband, Brad.

Just give her a quote and get her out of here.

But while the embers of regret and resentment burned inside her, outwardly, Kate presented a few nuggets of information as succinctly as her position within the department demanded. “While we don’t have a definitive suspect yet, we are developing a profile. He’s someone local because he knows the city well enough to blend in or hide without drawing attention to himself. And he targets strong, professional women—whether they’re up and coming or have already established successful careers.”

Vanessa’s thumbs hovered above her phone in mid-text. “So he’s looking for women who are likely to fight back or who have the means to prosecute him should he ever be identified?” She resumed inputting Kate’s comments into her phone. “This guy likes a challenge.”

“Which is part of why he goes to such lengths to hide his identity and mask the site of the original attacks.”

“Part of the reason?”

Kate checked her watch. Unless someone else was running late, Spencer Montgomery had already started the task force debriefing on the day’s events. But leaving Vanessa with an unanswered question would only encourage the woman to come back.

She knew better than to publicize the unsub’s penchant for sterilizing both the victims and the crime scene after the rape had occurred—that was a fact they were keeping to themselves to help eliminate bogus hotline tips and rule out evidence from assaults committed by someone else. But she’d probably already shared more of the profile than she should. She needed to be the stronger woman here and not let her emotions dictate her interactions with this particular member of the press.

“This is off the record because we don’t have the proof yet….” She waited for Vanessa’s nod of agreement before continuing. “But after careful study of the behaviors in each of the attacks, we believe our unsub has been hurt, humiliated, possibly even abused, by an important woman in his life. The assaults are a punishment, a means to … reclaim his power, to prove that he’s stronger, smarter, than the woman who damaged him. Unfortunately, the attacks probably have nothing to do with the actual victims. In his mind, they all represent this one woman to him. He’s proving to himself that she lacks the power to ever hurt him again.”

At least Vanessa had the grace to look appalled and slightly terrified of Kate’s description of the monster who was preying on the women of Kansas City. “And do you have a list of suspects who fit that description?”

But Kate had said enough. “I have a meeting to get to. If you’ll excuse me.”

With a noisy huff of exasperation, Vanessa fell into step beside her again. “That’s it? Psychological mumbo-jumbo about a man you’re no closer to identifying than you were five months ago?”

“We’re making progress, Vanessa, but that’s all I can share right now.”

“Can I at least tell my viewers that professional women are more likely to be targeted than others? You’re talking about assertive women—confident, successful women, right?”

Kate stopped and looked Vanessa straight in the eye. The implication was obvious. “Yes. Women like you and me.”

After a momentary pause, Vanessa nodded. “Thank you for the insight, Kate. I’ll share the warning, along with the safety tips you gave at the press conference this morning. I’m glad we can move past what happened between us and do what’s right for the greater good of the city.”

Well, at least one of them had evidently moved on from the tragic events that had ended Kate’s marriage. Even though the humiliation and pain of just how she’d discovered Brad and Vanessa’s affair had dulled over the past five years, a big scar remained on Kate’s ability to trust in personal relationships. She certainly no longer believed in the friendship she and Vanessa had shared.

Without further comment, she turned her back on the reporter. Once Kate was alone in the empty hallway, her shoulders sagged with the need to catch a quiet moment to herself before she joined the task force meeting. She untied the belt of her coat and unhooked another button. The high heels would go next if she had another five minutes to decompress. But, “Oh, hell.”

The door to her office was already open. Had she forgotten an appointment? She hurried the last few steps, then halted in the doorway.

“Oh, double …” She swallowed the rest of her unladylike curse as the sheriff with the coal-black hair unfolded himself from one of the visitor’s chairs and stood.

“Dr. Kate.” Holding his hat in his big hands, Boone Harrison nodded a greeting to her. With his insulated jacket draped over the back of the chair, she got a better idea of how broad shoulders and solid muscles filled out the dimensions of the tan-and-brown uniform he wore. The silver in his hair indicated he might be five to ten years older than she, but there was nothing over the hill about the fitness of his body, and he seemed as comfortable in his own skin, and as laid-back about the authority he exuded, as any man she’d met.

There was something basic and unpretentious about the masculinity imprinted in every rugged line, deep-pitched word and chivalrous gesture of Boone Harrison. And as much as his relentless and poorly timed refusal to leave her and KCPD alone to do their work annoyed her, she couldn’t deny a rusty feminine awareness sparking to life inside her at every encounter with the man.

Taking a deep breath and forcing her weary muscles to smile, Kate unhooked the last button and shrugged out of her coat as she circled around her desk. She draped the coat over the back of her chair and smoothed the sleeves of her cashmere cardigan, diverting her focus to distract her traitorous hormones for a moment. “Who’s taking care of Alton County while you’re here in Kansas City?”

“I’ve got deputies.” A tall, broad shadow loomed over her as Boone approached the desk. “Since I’m staying the night to escort Janie home in the morning, I thought I’d check in to see if any progress has been made on your investigation.”

She’d thought she’d gotten rid of him after their meeting at the florist’s shop that morning. So much for a five-minute respite to recoup the emotional energy she’d expended throughout the day. After the long day she’d had—counseling a retired cop who was dealing with the recent death of his wife, as well as a young officer who’d been particularly surly about being assigned to temporary desk duty, observing witness interviews and trading carefully chosen words with reporters who were just as intent as Vanessa Owen to get the inside scoop on the Rose Red Rapist’s latest attack—the last thing Kate needed was to deal with Sheriff Tall, Dark and Determined here.

Five minutes free from drama was apparently too much to ask for right now. Maybe if she quickly sent Boone Harrison on his way, though, she could at least close the door and enjoy two minutes of silence before joining the next meeting. “You’ve got a hotel room already? They fill up pretty fast this late in the day, especially south of town where the new crime lab and M.E.’s office are. Maybe you’d better—”

“I’ve got a room. But I’d sleep in my truck if I had to.” A soft gray Stetson landed in the middle of her desk, followed by two broad hands braced on either side of it and the earthy, warm scent of the man leaning over them. Kate tilted her gaze up to a pair of whiskey-brown eyes that were entirely too close to hers. “Thought if I made an effort to be a little more civilized than I was this morning, you might be more inclined to share some information.”

Didn’t the man understand personal space? And had that breathy little catch of sound really come from her?

“You were understandably upset this morning. But that doesn’t change the facts. You’re out of your jurisdiction, you’re too emotionally connected to the victim, and I don’t have any details I can share with you right now.” She slid a stack of files from beneath his hat and hugged them to her chest, straightening away from the desk and putting some distance between them. At least work was marginally less stressful than dealing with Marshall Hot-Shot here. She knew the expectations of her at KCPD. She knew what her clients needed from her. However, she wasn’t as comfortable with persistent men and these flutterings of awareness. “I’m running late to a task force meeting right now.”

“Perfect.” He snatched up his hat. “I can sit in and listen.”

“No.” That had come out more aggravated than authoritative. She fixed a friendly smile on her face and tried again. “I’ve got your card. I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

“Who was that woman pestering you out there?”

So was he truly observant? Or just plain nosy? Her arms tightened around the shield of papers she clutched to her chest. “A reporter.”

“Did you tell her anything you haven’t told me? I’m a cop and I’m family.” Observant, she decided, reading the stern set of the lines beside his eyes. “I don’t want to be surprised by anything I read in the papers or see on the evening news.”

His reasoning made her stop and think. And relent. Her run-in with Vanessa had reminded her of just how frustrated and helpless not knowing the truth had made her feel five years ago. Boone Harrison wasn’t leaving town until morning, anyway, so at least she could keep track of him and know he wasn’t interfering with their investigation if he was in the room with them. That was how she’d present it to Spencer Montgomery, too.

“Fine. Detective Montgomery won’t be happy about it, but I’ll clear it so you can sit in and listen.” Kate came around the desk, pointing a warning finger at Boone. “But not a word, remember? And anything you see or hear in that room has to remain confidential.”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

Somehow she doubted that. But she only had so many fights in her on any given day, and this one was sorely testing her limits. “Let me go in and talk to Spencer first. This way.”

“After you.”

A half hour into the meeting and Kate wondered if she’d made the wrong decision. Although Spencer Montgomery wasn’t pleased to have an unplanned visitor sitting in with the task force, he’d agreed that keeping the sheriff in sight was less worrisome than having him running through the city like a pinball let loose in a machine, conducting his own investigation into his sister’s murder, impacting witnesses and giving off the impression that the task force couldn’t get the job done on its own.

Still, it couldn’t be easy, even for a veteran officer of the law like Boone, to listen to the gruesome facts about his sister’s rape and murder.