* * *
“
I
SEE WE MADE THE PAPER.”
Spencer Montgomery walked through the conference room door and circled the table, placing a copy of the
Kansas City Journal
in front of each task force member. Maggie opened her copy to the page he indicated. “So, in addition to having our plates full with this investigation, we all need to watch what we say to Gabriel Knight.”
A quick skim through the article did little to alleviate Maggie’s guilt. “I never said Miss Austin’s name, I swear. He guessed the victim’s name. His question about the interview at the hospital caught me off guard, and whatever I said or did was enough to confirm the guess.”
“Relax, Wheeler.” The red-haired detective sat at the far end of the table. “Knight talked to all of us. I just hope this doesn’t have anything to do with those incidents at your building you reported. I’m not thrilled to see our names listed there.”
Annie Hermann stuffed the last of the muffin she was eating into her mouth and grabbed her newspaper. “We are?”
“The information was in KCPD’s official press release.” Although Spencer Montgomery’s words were meant to be reassuring, Maggie could tell by the pinch of a frown between his brows that he wasn’t pleased. “I’d pay good money to keep our investigation out of the papers. Anonymity would make our job a little easier. Witnesses and informants will be more reluctant to come forward if they think they’ll see their name in the paper. And if our perp gets any sign that we’re onto him, it could drive him underground again.”
“Or make him even smarter about how to cover up his crimes,” his partner, Nick Fensom, suggested before taking a long drink of his coffee.
Kate Kilpatrick, looking enviously fresh and stylish so early in the morning, offered another warning. “The publicity could play in to his power trip as well, making him even more dangerous. The
Journal
’s readers aren’t just here in Kansas City. Its circulation is statewide. And if the story gets picked up on the wire and internet, we’ll be giving this guy national attention. A lot of people are going to be following every move we make.”
Just like a white exterminator’s van and unseen eyes had followed
her?
Maggie stopped typing her notes as her thoughts drifted back to her late-night conversation with John Murdock. He suspected her work on the Rose Red Rapist investigation might be the cause of the unwanted calls and weird events that had rattled any sense of security she’d fought so hard for. Was it possible that a woman who’d purposely flown under society’s radar for so long now had more than a vicious ex-husband for an enemy?
She hoped he’d be home when she got there tonight. She wanted to be there when he went poking around the building to find some sign of last night’s intruder, or evidence of any of the building’s breakdowns being deliberate. Not just because she needed those answers to plan out the best strategy for keeping Travis safe, but because having a friend like John in her corner made
her
feel safe. He made her feel a few other things, too, but she wasn’t any more ready to acknowledge and explore those feelings than John claimed he was.
When her attention came back to the task force meeting, Spencer was still voicing his concerns. “We’re under a microscope now. If we make mistakes, it’ll hurt our credibility.”
Nick Fensom chimed in. “And if our leads are publicized, that allows the perp to stay a step ahead of us.”
Dr. Kilpatrick jotted a note in her planner. “I’ll call Mr. Knight with an official statement, and explain the risks of giving the case too much coverage.”
“He’ll plead the First Amendment, say the public has a right to know.” Nick scowled.
“And I’ll argue victims’ rights,” Kate countered. “There’s a fine line we have to walk with the press. We want Kansas City to be aware of Rose Red, but we don’t want the city paralyzed by fear of more attacks. Nor do we want to hinder any victim’s recovery or jeopardize any future prosecution.”
“You’re on Gabe Knight, then,” Spencer agreed. He sorted through the printouts in the notebook in front of him. Something among the meticulous records diverted his attention.
Maggie typed in Dr. Kilpatrick’s assignment to talk to Gabriel Knight at the
Journal.
She was sitting with her fingers poised over the keyboard to input the team’s next directive when she realized Detective Montgomery was waiting for her to look up and make eye contact. Had she missed something? “What?”
Was that Spencer Montgomery’s version of a smile? “I read your report of your interview with Bailey Austin. Impressive for a first-timer to get her to open up like that.”
“Thank you,” she answered hesitantly. The lead detective would clean up in a poker game. She couldn’t tell if that was amusement or if she was in some kind of trouble for overstepping the bounds of a relative intern. “I think she just wanted somebody to listen to her.”
“Possibly.” So no pat on the back after all. “But when Chief Taylor said our prime witness could identify her rapist by smell, I was hoping for something more useful than pickles.”
Maggie set her laptop on the table. “That’s what she said the smell reminded her of—pickles.”
Annie Hermann snapped her fingers and reached down to pick up the oversize bag she carried. She pulled out a bent file marked with the crime lab stamp. “Pickles would make sense with the preliminary results from the lab.”
“How’s that?” Nick wadded up the paper cup from the coffee he’d been drinking and shot it into the trash can beside the door. “That our perp likes to snack on gherkins and dills?”
“No, smart-ass.” Annie handed the wrinkled report off to Detective Montgomery. “Vinegar. The lab found traces of vinegar in the victim’s panties.”
Dr. Kilpatrick sat forward in her chair. “That’s not good.”
“Pickles have vinegar in them, don’t they?” Nick asked.
“Yes.” Maggie already knew that Dr. Kilpatrick’s concern wasn’t about food. Maybe it was a good thing that Bailey Austin hadn’t remembered every detail of her attack. “Women used to use vinegar as a cleansing agent after sex. There was an old wives’ tale that it worked as a contraceptive.”
“You think our perp is some old fart?” Nick asked. “How do you explain the physicality of the attacks, then?”
The CSI across from him groaned. “Listen, Mr. Neanderthal, our guy doesn’t have to be old-school to use vinegar. Wives’ tale or not, it’s an effective way to clean up traces of DNA off the vic. That’s why we haven’t been able to find any kind of scientific ID on this guy. We can’t even tell you what kind of condom he uses because any trace we manage to pull has been compromised.”
“He disinfected her? After…” Nick swore under his breath. “If that bastard comes after either one of my sisters—”
“Relax, Nick.” Spencer cooled his partner’s outburst. “I think we’re all in agreement that we can’t get this guy off the streets soon enough.”
“But we’re back to square one,” Nick argued.
Maggie piped up shyly, even though she hadn’t been asked her opinion directly. “Miss Austin said she came to in an abandoned office building—either under construction, or being renovated or torn down. Could we start a search for properties like that in the area where she was abducted?”
Pike Taylor nodded toward the dog at his feet. “Hans and I are game.”
“There’s no evidence the assault took place in that area,” Spencer pointed out, “only the abduction.”
Nick looked at his partner. “You got any other leads, Spence? We need to try something.”
“Wheeler’s plan it is.” After a moment to consider their limited options, Spencer agreed, closing his notebook. “Let’s go pull construction and demolition orders for a six-block radius around the abduction site near that bridal shop. Pike, you’ll get a search team together? Remember, nothing too big—we don’t want to raise this guy’s suspicions.”
“Will do.”
Wheeler’s plan?
Maggie dipped her head to hide her smile as a fledgling sense of pride and accomplishment swelled inside her. She could be a detective. She could help these victims.
But there was little opportunity to savor the success of her idea. Without any official dismissal, the meeting seemed to be ending. Everyone at the table was getting up, gathering their things, moving with a purpose. It was business as usual at the Fourth Precinct, and Maggie was starting to feel less like the gatekeeper between KCPD and the public, and more like an integral part of the task force.
Detective Montgomery opened the door. “Annie, see if your lab can at least identify what brand of vinegar it is and find out where our perp could have bought the stuff.”
“Could be a long list.”
“It’d be more than we’ve got now.”
Kate Kilpatrick filed past the red-haired detective. “I’ll pull the files from ten years ago and start reading through them. See if there’s any mention of vinegar or empty buildings in the victim statements.”
Maggie was the last one to reach the door. “What should I do?” she asked. “Besides copy details of the meeting to everyone.”
Detective Montgomery thought for a moment, then closed the door behind them. “Get with the doc on those old files and line up some interviews with the previous victims. You got Bailey Austin to open up, maybe you can get one of them to remember something more, as well.”
“Yes, sir.” Feeling more like the detective she aspired to be than she’d ever felt before, Maggie quickly crossed the floor back to her front desk station across from the third-floor elevators.
She spent some time at her desk, copying the meeting notes into an email and sending them out to Chief Taylor and the task force members. She verified the duty log for the day, then agreed to cover the desk for Officer Allen’s fifteen-minute break so that he could manage the front on his own while she went upstairs to Dr. Kilpatrick’s office to work on the victim interviews with her.
Maggie was giving a visitor directions when the elevator doors opened. Her training to be the precinct’s first line of defense as well as its first opportunity to welcome guests had her automatically turning to identify the elevator’s occupants.
She never heard the woman’s thank-you or saw her walk away. Maggie’s pulse was thundering in her ears, and her vision had narrowed down to the shiny bald pate and deceptively handsome face of Daniel Gable Wheeler.
He was coming this way, sauntering across the marble floor in his tan work coveralls. His laser-blue eyes locked onto hers, and he was smiling. He grinned that charming smile that had once knocked the teenage Maggie off her feet as though the abuse, the threats, the rape and that fire last night had never happened.
Run. Scream. Fight. Do something.
Danny rested his elbows on the counter and laced his tattooed fingers together. “Hey, baby. The guy downstairs said I needed to sign in here and get a visitor’s pass.”
Any civilized greeting escaped her. “You can’t be here.”
“Sure I can, Mags. Where do I sign?” The words carved into his knuckles—
LOVE, HATE
—were a mocking testament to their relationship, and gave graphic emphasis to the damage those powerful hands had done. “I volunteered to come in for questioning on the Rose Red Rapist case. I’m meeting with a Detective Fensom. I’m all about proving my innocence.”
Fat chance. The sooner she got him away from her and out of the building, the better.
“Fine. When’s your appointment?” She lay the clipboard and a visitor’s pass on top of the counter and reached for the phone. While Danny signed the registry, she checked the duty log for Nick Fensom’s extension. “I’ll get you set up in an interview room and let him know you’re here.”
The hand that said
LOVE
shot over the counter and grabbed her wrist. Maggie instantly tensed and tried to pull away. Her struggle was subtle and brief. What if someone else on the floor saw her unable to properly defend herself? What if she went ballistic and created an incident that shouldn’t have to happen? And why couldn’t she decide what to do? It wasn’t the offense of his unwanted touch that stunned her, but that the bruising strength still felt so familiar. Had she come such a short way in ten years that Danny’s touch could still make her brain and backbone shut down like this?
“I’m being friendly here, Mags. And I don’t even get a hello? I thought I’d at least earn a little credit for helping KCPD with the biggest case they’ve had in years.” He leaned in for a more intimate whisper. “Actually, I could care less about anyone else here. I saw your name in the paper—read that this was your investigation. Now I understand why you sicced those uniformed officers on me at work to get an alibi for the last attack. You’re moving up in the world. I’m proud of you, baby. I’m here to help you.”
If he’d showed her anything but that sincerity in his eyes, she might have cowered. But some out-of-practice instinct that warned her never to believe what those blue eyes said finally kicked in. She could do the hushed intensity thing, too. “Danny, let go of me now or I’ll throw you in a jail cell instead of an interview room. There are thirty cops working on this floor at any given time. If you try anything, all I have to do is say the word and they’ll be here to back me up. So let go.”
With an arch of one dark eyebrow, he eased his grip and she pulled away. While Danny put his hands up and retreated a step, Maggie put the call in to Nick.
A few minutes later, Maggie led Danny into an interview room and closed the door. “Detective Fensom is taking an important call right now. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” She knew standard procedure was to offer an uncuffed, voluntary interviewee a cup of coffee or glass of water, but she had no such niceties to offer her ex. It was all she could do to point to a chair. “Have a seat.”
She waited until his butt was firmly planted in the chair before heading for the door. But escaping from Danny had never been easy.
“I saw your new boyfriend at the ballpark.”
Maggie halted with her hand on the doorknob. “So you
were
there watching my son.”
“I was waiting for you.” He made his appearance sound like a romantic gesture. “I figured you’d come pick up the kid. Didn’t know you’d have a boy toy to come do it for you instead.”