by Julie Miller
“All right then, ladies and gentlemen—let’s find this guy.” The rustle of notepads closing and papers being tucked away indicated the end of the morning briefing, but no one moved from their seat until Mitch Taylor gave the word. “Watch your backs out there. Dismissed.”
Rafe pushed his way through the exodus filing from the conference room, zeroing in on the shock of red hair moving into the hallway ahead of him. “Montgomery!” He excused himself past a pair of chatty detectives and caught up to him. “I want to talk to you.”
Signaling his partner to go ahead, Montgomery turned from the flow of traffic toward the main room’s maze of cubicles and stepped aside to get a drink of water from the nearby fountain before he answered. “I’m aware you have a personal connection to my investigation, Sergeant Delgado.” He straightened to face Rafe. “Ironic, isn’t it, that two of the RGK’s intended victims have wound up under the personal protection of SWAT Team One. An outside observer might think your team is interfering with my investigation.”
Rafe wasn’t interested in irony or explaining that Montgomery might be investigating two more deaths instead of attempted murders if members of his team hadn’t stepped up to keep those targeted women safe. “You need to set up some kind of protection for Josie Nichols. Did she even agree to this? It’s a damn stupid strategy to publicly announce that she’s seen the Rich Girl Killer.”
Montgomery leaned forward and hushed his voice. “Am I the one who just said her name out loud? And yes, she agreed to look at a lineup for me. She’s like her dad in that regard—not afraid to do her public duty.”
“Are you sure you explained the risk she was taking? That you didn’t con her into identifying a serial killer? That profile you gave could be you, you arrogant son of—” Rafe raked his fingers through his short hair, taking a breath while another officer walked past. Then he dropped his voice to match the detective’s terse whisper. “You care more about your case than any collateral damage you may cause. She’s vulnerable to that bastard, and you know it.”
“She’s the safest woman in Kansas City, if you ask me.” The detective’s light-colored eyes looked dead serious. He gestured toward Rafe. “Everywhere she turns, she’s surrounded by cops. Big brother. At the Shamrock. All those friends of her father’s. What killer is going to risk approaching her?”
“What about when she’s at home? Alone.”
“Like I said…she remains completely anonymous. Hidden in plain sight.” He shrugged and buttoned the front of his suit jacket. “Unless you slip and tell someone her name, like you did just now. I know I won’t.”
Rafe burned inside, warring with the need to throttle some sense into Josie—seemingly out to singlehandedly save Kansas City from a serial killer when she should be concentrating on taking care of herself and the baby—and simply wanting to throttle Spencer here for taking advantage of her willingness to help anyone and everyone in need. “I don’t like you, Montgomery.”
“Well, I won’t lose any sleep over that. And it won’t keep me from doing my job.” Nick Fensom came back to the conference room area and gave his partner a high sign, indicating the time. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a press briefing to get to downstairs. The sooner we ID Kemp in his current alias and get him off the streets, the sooner my witness will be safe.”
His witness.
As if Josie belonged to him.
Josie and the baby belonged to…well… They sure as hell didn’t belong to Spencer Montgomery. And they weren’t pawns Rafe was willing to risk, even if it meant catching a killer. Rafe inhaled a deep breath, then ran a palmful of water from the fountain and splashed it against his cheeks and the back of his neck, needing to cool his jets and think this thing through.
Aaron would be rolling over in his grave if he knew about the potential danger an unlucky meeting in a prison visitation room had put Josie in. Rafe ran his damp fingers over the top of his hair, smoothing the mess he’d made earlier. He had to do something.
Fensom and Montgomery were long gone, and the conference room nearly cleared out, by the time Rafe had reached his decision. Josie would hate him for what he was going to propose. He made a wry sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Like he wasn’t on her hit list already.
“Sarge?”
He heard Captain Cutler’s voice behind him, along with several congratulatory comments from coworkers welcoming Trip back after his medical leave. With just a nod, Rafe turned and joined the rest of the five-man team as they crossed past the detectives’ stations and sergeant’s desk on their way to the bank of elevators that would take them down to the garage level where the SWAT teams were based.
Keep her identity secret. He couldn’t even tell his team that Josie Nichols was Montgomery’s star witness—the one person who’d seen the RGK’s current face. He couldn’t risk her name slipping out in connection to the case, even accidentally.
But silence and a scowl couldn’t go undetected by a man as observant as Michael Cutler for long. He pushed the elevator’s call button, crossed his arms in front of him and asked, “So what’s eating you this morning?” While the others gathered out of earshot behind them, Cutler angled his dark blue eyes toward Rafe. “Anything I can help with?”
Michael was too good a friend to lie to him outright. And he was too smart to believe any denial Rafe could come up with. So a half truth would have to suffice. Something was bothering him. Big time. “Josie’s pregnant.”
He turned his head to face him, although any initial surprise or pleasure at the news quickly slipped behind an objective mask. “I take it you’re not pleased. Between school and all the jobs she holds down, I didn’t know she had time for a relationship.”
“She doesn’t.”
“So this wasn’t planned.”
“No.”
“Is the father in the picture?” Rafe stared straight ahead. “I’m guessing she’s having to practically hog-tie you to keep you from coming down hard on the guy.”
Rafe glanced his way for a moment, sending a mute distress message.
The captain could be counted on to be perceptive. This time, he didn’t hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you and… Well, it’s about time. I mean, you and Josie were the only two people who never seemed to see the sparks between—”
“We’re not a couple.”
Right. This isn’t good news. The message registered clear on Cutler’s expression. “But you are the father?”
“I don’t do relationships. We’re just…friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.” Rafe wheeled around to face his captain straight-on. “Can you see me as a dad? Don’t answer that.”
Captain Cutler’s eyes narrowed. Ah, hell. He was the team’s negotiator, trained to read the slightest nuances about people—and Rafe had just revealed a lot more than a nuance about his unfamiliar, conflicted emotions. “Do we need to talk about this?”
“No.”
“Because I’ve got some experience with fatherhood. It’s just as scary as you think, yet it’s the best job in the world. I’m surviving the teenage years with Mike and there’s another one on the way. The pregnancy routine with the doctor and prenatal classes have changed a little bit since Mike was born. But the basics are the same. If you have questions…”
Michael Cutler was exactly the kind of man who should be a father. Patient teacher. Good listener. Strong leader. Proud. Loyal. Rafe didn’t need that kind of pressure to try to live up to and fall short. A bell dinged and he turned to face the elevator again. “I’m good.”
“All right. The offer stands if and when you’re ready to talk. Meanwhile, we’ve got a lot on our plate right now with the Gallagher Security threats and the RGK on the loose. I need you to focus. Can you do your job today?”
Rafe knew it was a serious question. He gave Michael a serious answer. “Always. That’s one thing you can always count on, sir.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “Then let’s check the gear and be ready to roll.”
Crossing through the lobby of Fourth Precinct headquarters proved to be no easy task.
The clicks and flashes of cameras, and hushed buzz of reporters speaking into cell phones and microphones, vaguely reminded Rafe of the barrage of gunfire and flash bangs the team had used to neutralize a hypothetical terrorist threat on their last run through the KCPD training facility. Not exactly a good omen for the outcome of Spencer Montgomery’s press conference.
All five members of SWAT Team One slowed their steps to negotiate their way through the crowd gathering around the podium where Chief Taylor was making introductions. But it was Trip, with his wry sense of humor, who said exactly what Rafe had been thinking. “I knew we were fighting a war on crime, but, in our own lobby?”
“They want answers like everyone else in Kansas City,” Miranda suggested. “It’s been two years since the Rich Girl Killer first got a name. It was an isolated murder when Quinn Gallagher’s wife was killed. As soon as he struck again, he became a serial killer and the wealthy families of Kansas City went on alert. Big money and big news go together.”
She was onto something there. Rafe’s hands fisted at his sides. These reporters were a lot more interested in covering a break in a case where the city’s elite were targeted than, say, the murder of a working-class schoolboy who’d been shot walking home from school and had died in a police officer’s arms.
All the more reason to keep Josie’s name out of the investigation. Not only would the extra publicity make it nearly impossible to keep her a Jane Doe, but the notoriety would thrust her into a spotlight that nobody in their right mind would want to be a part of.
Rafe fixed his gaze on Spencer Montgomery as he thanked Chief Taylor and stepped up to the microphone. He’d better damn well be true to his word and keep any mention or description of Josie out of his presentation.
“Could you hurry up?” A shrill man’s voice from near the front door couldn’t shake Rafe’s focus. “I’ve got a living to make here. Today?”
Since Montgomery was getting the room up to speed on the investigation details to date, and hadn’t even held up Josie’s description of the killer yet, Rafe turned to see what the commotion behind him was about. He saw a balding linebacker of a reporter grab his camera from the security guard who’d cleared him through the front door checkpoint and barrel toward him. Rafe tried to step aside, but the man was intent on looping the camera strap around his neck and the collision was inevitable.
“Whoa. Sorry, officer, uh…” The stout man angled his head to read Rafe’s name off his uniform pocket. “…Delgado. Excuse me.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed as recognition tried to kick in. “Don’t I know you?”
Trip had moved to block the man’s path. With his arms crossed over his chest like that, the big guy made an effective roadblock. “His name’s Steve Lassen.”
There was a name that rang an unpleasant bell. Lassen had once been a respected reporter for the Kansas City Journal, but a rumored drinking problem and a taste for the money that more sensationalistic stories could bring in had turned him into nothing better than a tabloid hound whose reporter’s “instincts” had even jeopardized a couple of KCPD cases.
Alex Taylor closed the triangle around the reporter, preventing him from moving on. “What are you doing here, Lassen?” Alex taunted. “This press conference is for legitimate reporters. I’m surprised they let you in the door.”
Lassen smoothed his graying, blond-brown hair into place and turned to Alex. “I got my press pass back, Taylor, no thanks to you.” He tilted his gaze to include Trip in his sneering explanation, as well. “I’ve been following the progress of this Rich Girl Killer. I’ve even scooped my colleagues with a few select quotes and photos of some of the players involved in the investigation.”
Alex inched forward, stopping just shy of invading the tabloid reporter’s personal space. “You only scooped the competition because you were contaminating crime scenes before they’d been cordoned off and were harassing potential witnesses.”
Lassen held his hands up as if he was daring to be arrested. “You’ll be pleased to know I no longer have any interest in your fiancée, Ms. Kline. Unless, of course, as a member of the District Attorney’s office, the Rich Girl Killer case lands on her desk. But I’m guessing his capture will be big enough news in Kansas City that the D.A. himself will handle the case.”
“Gentlemen.” Captain Cutler’s authoritative voice intervened. “We have no reason to detain Mr. Lassen.”
“Ah, a voice of reason.” Lassen’s smirk turned into a smile as Cutler’s order drew his attention beyond Trip and Alex. “If you fine gentlemen—and beautiful young lady—will excuse me.” He pulled a business card from his pocket and turned his full attention to Miranda. “Maybe you and I could get together sometime and talk about what it’s like for a woman like you to wear so much body armor. But later. I don’t want to miss a single detail of what Detective Montgomery has to say about the investigation. Word on the street is he’s got a surviving witness who can identify the RGK.”
“A woman like me? What did he mean by that?” That’s right. Set Randy Murdock off with some comment that hinted she was too blonde and too pretty to be a SWAT cop. Then the rest of them could stand back and let her cut Lassen off at the knees.
“Easy, Murdock,” Cutler warned as she crunched the business card in her fist. He motioned Trip and Alex to stand aside and let Lassen join the press conference. “He’s practicing his Constitutional right to be a jackass.”
“Montgomery’s witness won’t survive for long if Lassen scoops her identity.” Rafe avoided saying Josie’s name, but he had to put it out there. “Even if he just speculates on who the witness might be, he could be signing a death warrant. Maybe he’ll do the right thing and just print the composite photo Montgomery handed out. Only put people on the lookout for Donny Kemp, or whoever he is now.”
“He won’t do the right thing,” Alex said. “That guy makes my blood boil. I hate him even saying Audrey’s name.”
“How do you think he’s scooping anyone else on Montgomery’s investigation?” Trip asked.
Alex had an answer that made them both snicker. “Because he hangs out with the same lowlife devil scum as the RGK.”
The captain’s cell phone rang, and Rafe’s vibrated on his belt. One by one they all were being summoned. The entire team’s attention shifted from Lassen and Montgomery to the details they could pick up from Michael Cutler’s side of the phone call.
By the time Cutler hung up, they were already half briefed. “Show’s over for us, guys. We’ve got a domestic disturbance over on Paseo with reports of a gun on the premises. We need to move out.”
“Yes, sir.” Rafe, Trip, Alex and Randy answered in unison. As the other three jogged to the stairwell leading down to the garage where the SWAT van was parked, Rafe spared another moment to scan Detective Montgomery’s smooth facade and gauge the reaction of the reporters as they viewed the computerized image of the RGK being flashed up on the viewscreen.
“Sergeant.” The captain’s voice commanded action. “You’re driving. Let’s move.”
With a nod, Rafe backed away from the chaos and followed the captain to the stairs. But he stopped and turned one last time to get a good look at the heavyset reporter with the receding points in his hairline. It took only a second to imprint Steve Lassen’s face and build in his memory, and then Rafe was jogging down the stairs, taking them three at a time to catch up with the others.
Lassen had terrorized Alex Taylor’s fiancée, an assistant district attorney, opting for an exposé on her personal life instead of doing some serious reporting about the gang leader she’d convicted for murdering Calvin Chambers. Then Lassen had moved on to heiress Charlotte Mayweather, the wealthy recluse who’d barely survived a kidnapping as a teenager. When she’d come out of hiding to pay her respects to a close family friend who’d been slain trying to protect her, Lassen had been at the ceme
tery to catch the grieving woman on camera. Trip had rescued Charlotte that day—and wound up marrying her. But not before the RGK had come close to killing them, too.
Steve Lassen was a magnet for trouble. And the lowlife devil scum as Alex had so eloquently put it, was something even more dangerous.
If Lassen came within a mile of Josie, Rafe would recognize him on sight. And if he showed any hint that he knew she was Montgomery’s anonymous witness, Rafe would see to it personally that Lassen’s reporting days were over.
“GREAT WORK.” JOSIE’S supervising R.N., Julia Taylor, signed off at the bottom of the screen where she’d scanned each of the supplies in this bay of the Truman Medical Center’s emergency room. “I’ll add these to my requisition list.”
As the friendly trauma nurse closed down one computer file and pulled up another, Josie succumbed to the length of the day, rolling her shoulders forward and twisting to reach the muscle knotting in the small of her back. But a soft moan gave her away.
“Unfortunately, nursing seems to be as much about paperwork as it is…” Julia stood up from the stool where she’d been sitting and rolled it across the floor toward Josie. “How long have you been on your feet today? Sit.”
Josie hesitated, not wanting to give any indication that she wasn’t fit for this job she’d been training so long and hard for.
“Sit,” Julia ordered, her easy smile softening any hint of a reprimand. “I think I was in my third month with MacKinley when the twinge in my lower back started. It lasted right through to the second week past her due date when we finally had to induce her. Thank goodness my husband knows how to give a good massage.”
A massage from a loving husband. She wished. Josie had been settling for hot showers and strategically placed pillows to give her swelling body some relief at night. She willingly sank onto the cushioned seat, splaying her hands over her belly and smoothing her loose green top over the telltale baby bump. “Is it that obvious I’m pregnant?”
