by Julie Miller
“Nick, too,” she insisted, beaming at their supervisor’s simple praise. “I wouldn’t have come away with any evidence if it wasn’t for him.”
“Nah.” Nick waved off the compliments directed at him, suspecting they could have come away with so much more if he’d truly been doing his job in that alley. He was proud of Annie’s eye for details and thorough deduction, and put the credit where it was due. “This is all on you, slugger.”
“Enough with the mutual-admiration society.” Spencer’s authoritative voice silenced the chatter in the room. “We’re glad you’re here with us, period, Annie. All right, people, just because this is the first break we’ve had in months doesn’t mean we’ve solved the case. It’s not like we’ll get warrants to test every man in Kansas City who has O negative blood. We still have work to do.” The sobering reminder dulled the gold in Annie’s eyes, and she busied herself with closing up the lab reports and putting them in her bag. “Pike, any luck tracking down the E-14 parking sticker?”
“Not yet.” The big man on their team gave a succinct report. “I did some work with the picture Annie took, but even at high resolution, it’s too dark and blurry to get a plate number or the name of an apartment complex or workplace off the sticker. I can tell you the car was a Chevy Suburban, recent make. Black with silver mag wheels. Patrols will be on the lookout for a car matching that description with a green-and-white sticker.” Pike turned to direct the last of his information directly to Nick. “I’ve also arranged for security patrols to make hourly drive-bys around Annie’s apartment, like you asked.”
For a moment, Nick wondered if he’d overstepped his authority by making the private request before the meeting. But after the late-night call, the near miss with the car and the frenzy of this morning’s press conference, he wasn’t taking any chances with Annie’s safety.
Her eyes rounded. “That isn’t necessary.”
“Yeah, it is.” Nick wasn’t going to apologize for singling her out for the extra security. “I’ve only had a couple hours of shut-eye over the past forty-eight, so I have a feeling I’m going to crash hard tonight—but I don’t want to leave you unprotected.”
“Nick.” She tried to hush him. “You have responsibilities at home. You need to be there.” Her gaze darted around the table, taking in the knowing, concerned expressions of the other task force members, before coming back to communicate a warning to him.
He braced his elbows on the table and leaned toward her, ignoring the silent reprimand. “You don’t think these people know where I was last night?”
Her cheeks dotted with a pink blush, then began to pale before she looked away. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed to learn the others knew she’d had a man in her apartment, or that they might think she couldn’t take care of herself. He wasn’t going to apologize for the former, and he didn’t think that anyone here, under normal circumstances, believed the latter. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
Absorbing the brunt of her hurt and fury, Nick turned his attention to the rest of the room. While Annie remained his primary concern, he wasn’t so shortsighted as to think she was the only one here who might have caught the eye of the unsubs they were after. “We don’t know if this ‘cleaner’ guy is targeting Annie specifically, or if he’ll come after the whole task force. But I don’t think anyone here needs to make it easy for him. I recommend working with a partner or in groups anytime we’re out in the field. And it needs to be with somebody we know has our back.”
Pike’s blue eyes narrowed. “You’re worried about the fake cops coming back and infiltrating our investigation? We’ve got a face to look for now.”
“For one man,” Nick reminded him. “If these are hired goons, they’ll just get somebody else—or use the man we didn’t identify. The information’s getting out somehow. The press knew about Annie’s attack before we told them. I’m tired of these bastards having the upper hand on us. We need to close the circle.”
Pike nodded, reaching down to pet the dog at his feet. “I’ve got Hans with me 24-7.”
Maggie seemed to agree. “When I’m not working the desk here, I’m home with John and Travis.” Her fiancé and son. From an incident with Maggie’s abusive ex-husband the previous summer, Nick knew John Murdock—a former United States Marine—despite his disability, could supply the kind of backup Maggie would need away from the precinct. She pointed across the table. “And Kate’s my maid of honor, so when I’m out planning the wedding, she’s usually with me.”
Spencer nodded his agreement. “Sounds like a smart idea. Kate, you can ask Sheriff Harrison to shadow you when he’s in town, if he’s willing.”
“I’m sure he’ll agree.”
Nick and Spencer were partners, used to working calls together. That left Annie without any regular backup. But he didn’t intend to leave the woman alone anytime soon. “You’re with me, slugger,” he promised. “If you’re working any place outside the lab, I’m with you. Or else I’ll make sure someone else from the task force is.” He saw the protest forming on her lips and stopped it before it could start. “You know it makes sense.”
“Okay,” she answered dutifully, if without any enthusiasm, conceding the logic of his plan. “You and I are a team.”
“That’s the new rule for everybody, then,” Spencer Montgomery announced. “Nobody works solo on this investigation. If you leave Precinct HQ or the lab for any reason on this case, backup goes with you. Nobody’s out in the field on his or her own.”
A chorus of yes, sirs rounded out the meeting, but Spencer didn’t dismiss them. Instead he turned to Annie. “Are you up for another crime scene?”
“Of course.”
Spencer held up the call sheet he’d pulled from his notebook and handed the address to Annie. “Then the last item on our agenda is a B and E call that came in early this morning.”
“Breaking and entering?” Nick speared his partner with skeptical look. Was this the detective’s idea of a task that would keep Annie out of harm’s way? If so, he didn’t know how single-minded about an investigation she could be. She’d find a way to get back into the mix, with or without Spencer’s permission.
“Relax, partner,” the red-haired detective assured him. “There’s an outside shot it could be related to our case.” Nick should have known Spencer didn’t do or say anything without thinking it through first. “This particular break-in happened last night in a building in the same neighborhood where Rachel Dunbar was murdered and the other rape victims were abducted. There’s no report of anything being taken, or in fact, any crime beyond the vandalism, but it’s on an upper floor where the old warehouse is being renovated into offices and condos.”
“A construction site,” said Annie, seeing the same possibility Nick did. The last surviving victim of the Rose Red Rapist described being taken to a building that was either being renovated or newly built. “Do you really think our unsub would be so careless as to leave evidence behind in two different locations?”
Kate Kilpatrick offered the profiler’s perspective on the possibility. “If Rachel Dunbar saw his face or injured him in some way, then his routine had already been compromised. This guy’s compulsive enough that the change in his attack strategy could trigger some kind of psychotic break. His control could be unraveling, leading to a chain of mistakes and erratic behavior.”
Nick rolled his chair back from the table and stood. “It could just be that some partiers were looking for a private place to get drunk and keep the New Year’s celebration rolling.”
Pike Taylor was on his feet, too. “Might be a homeless guy trying to get out of the cold.”
Annie downed the last of her coffee and shrugged into the sleeves of her black wool coat. “If nothing else, we can at least prove the rape didn’t happen there. Right?”
“Exactly.” Spencer stood and buttoned his suit jacket, signaling the end of the task force meeting. “Sorry to cut your holidays short, everyone. Let’s get to work. Dismissed.�
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Kate put a hand on Annie’s arm, stopping her on her way out the door. “Could I see you in my office? I’m responsible for the well-being of everyone here. I want to chat with you for a few minutes about the assault.”
“But the crime scene—”
“I’ll make it fast.”
“Sure.” With a cautioning glance over her shoulder to Nick, maybe wondering if he’d leave without her, maybe wondering if the psychologist would ask what had happened at her apartment after the attack, Annie looped that ridiculously pink carryall bag over her neck and shoulder and followed Kate out to the hallway.
Nick threw his coat on and hurried around the table to catch them, wanting to reassure her that he meant it when he said he’d be there for her. He waited for Pike and his dog, and Maggie Wheeler to precede him out the door.
And then he stood face-to-face with his partner, who pushed the door shut.
“Give me a minute before you go,” Spencer said, casually sitting on the edge of the conference table.
Nick’s muscles leaped with the instinct to open the door and go after Annie. He curled his fingers into his palms instead, dredging up a grin to mask the impulse. His partner never did anything casually. There had to be a reason for this private conversation. “What’s up?”
“Slugger?”
One slip. One stinking little slip. So Spencer had zeroed in on the connection between him and Annie in the space of an hour, when it had taken Nick months to realize that CSI Hermann meant a hell of a lot more to him than a simple coworker should. Probably why his partner was the senior detective. Still, Nick wasn’t comfortable spelling it out for Spencer when he hadn’t yet figured out where this thing with Annie was headed himself. He took one shot at blowing it off as no big deal.
Nick shrugged. “I found out she was a baseball fan. Figured that was a nicer nickname than Brainiac or Space Cadet.”
Spencer didn’t buy a word of it. “This is from one partner, one friend, to another. What’s going on with you and Hermann?”
“Nothing.” Plan B: Admit a little. Keep everything else close to the vest. “I’m working through some guilt over her getting hurt and not being where I should have been to save that evidence from being taken.” He reached for the doorknob. “I promised her protection. I intend to deliver. I can’t do it from here.”
“Nice speech, but this is me you’re talking to. You weren’t focused at the meeting—”
“I haven’t had much sleep. Nell’s dating this nightmare—”
“You couldn’t keep your eyes off her.” His perceptive gaze dropped to the fist at Nick’s side. “Right now you’re about to crawl out of your skin because she’s out of your sight. That’s more than guilt—or a bodyguard doing his job. What’s going on?”
Ah, hell. Nick raked his fingers through his hair and paced to the end of the room. If he couldn’t tell his partner—the man he trusted most in this world—then who could he talk to about this craziness? “I kissed her.” He turned to face him. “Twice.”
Spencer just sat there, betraying no reaction one way or the other. Nick had seen him use the tactic countless times in interrogation rooms, waiting in expectant silence until the perp got so uncomfortable he started spilling his guts. The damn tactic worked.
“I’d have taken her to bed, too, if we hadn’t got interrupted by that crank phone call last night.” Nick paced back, pointing to the door. “Somebody thinks she’s the weak link on this investigation. They’re targeting her. They’ve got her number. They know where she lives. And it’s my fault. I’m the one who let her get hurt. I’m the one who left her exposed and put her on The Cleaner’s radar.”
“You kissed her?” Spencer smirked, the equivalent of a big, teasing grin on any other man.
“Come on, Spence. Focus on what’s important here.”
“I am.” The smirk disappeared and he pushed to his feet. “Your objectivity has been compromised. You’re already distracted by whatever’s going on with your family, and now you’ve got the hots for Annie?”
“It doesn’t mean I can’t do my job. I’m still a good cop.”
“One of the best I’ve ever known. I know there’s nobody I’d rather have out on the street backing me up.”
Nick shrugged off the compliment that went both ways. “She doesn’t have any backup, Spence. I’ve never seen anyone go through the world as alone as that woman does.”
“So all that weirdness between you two was because you feel obligated to her. The kisses were just your way of welcoming in the New Year and meant nothing to you. I can assign someone else to protect her.”
“No.” Okay, so that answer was a little too emphatic to prove his objectivity.
Instead of calling him on the proprietary outburst, Spencer moved back to the head of the table to gather his notebook and coffee mug, remaining as unflappable as ever. “So why did you kiss her?”
Because he’d needed to. Because standing even a few inches away from Annie last night had been too far away. Everything inside him—the guilt, the worry, the compassion, the frustration—had centered and calmed the moment she’d put her hand on his chest. All night and day his raw nerves and beat-up emotions had been sparking through him like a disconnected power line. But when Annie had touched him, when they’d kissed, the circuit found completion—and the electricity he felt every time he was around her had hummed smoothly, powerfully inside him—through both of them.
But he wasn’t sharing that fanciful notion with anybody, not even his partner. “Is there a purpose to this conversation? Or are you jealous because you’ve got no personal life, so you’re interfering with mine? If you need some attention, Grandma Connie still wants to adopt you.”
Spencer laughed, allowing him that one dig. “Hey, I might take her up on that offer one day with the way she cooks. But right now I need you and Annie focused on this investigation.”
“Let her focus. I’ll keep her safe,” Nick promised. “I won’t screw up again.”
And then the laughter was done. “I’m not questioning your abilities. Maybe your judgment, a little bit. You know I lost someone I was protecting.”
“I know, buddy.” It was a piece of Spencer’s past that few people knew about. It was a testament to their bond that Spencer had shared the story during one late-night stakeout. “I can’t imagine what you went through when your witness got killed.”
“It’ll gut you, Nick. In more ways than you can imagine.” A shadow darkened Spencer’s features for a split second, reminding Nick that the woman Spencer had been protecting had been far more than a witness to him.
The painful fist of possibility punched Nick in the gut. He couldn’t imagine holding a lifeless Annie in his arms and going on with life the way Spencer had. And maybe that, more than anything else, confirmed that whatever he felt for her was real, and strong.
Nick nodded, appreciating the heartfelt advice. “I won’t let my feelings get in the way of doing my job. But I don’t want this job to get in the way of something that might be pretty good.”
Erasing the aftereffects of that past tragedy from his expression, Spencer came around the table again. “I’ll give you credit—you’ve always been braver than me in that department. Maybe not smarter, but always braver. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt. On the job or off.”
“Tell her that. You know me, I don’t dink around when something feels right.” He squeezed his fists in frustration, needing to pace off this restless energy again. “But she’s so blow hot, blow cold—all ‘need and hold me’ one minute, and ‘let’s play by the rules’ the next. And it’s not a game with her. I think she’s so damn scared of getting hurt that she doesn’t want to believe we could have something.” Nick stopped in his tracks. “Maybe it’s just me she doesn’t believe in.”
“Then she doesn’t know you like I do. Give her time to figure it out.”
“You think she will?”
Spencer’s shoulders lifted in an uncharacteristic
shrug. “Look, I’m the last one to give anybody relationship advice. But I can tell you that, technically, there’s no conflict of interest in you two hooking up. She works for the lab and you’re KCPD, so you aren’t breaking any protocol rules.”
“That’s just a small part of it. But thanks for the ammunition. It’s tough to win an argument with that woman.”
The smirk came back. “Then maybe you ought to quit arguing and kiss her a third time.”
“That’s your advice? Stick to being a cop, Romeo.” Nick grinned and opened the door. “I’ll keep my priorities straight. Now let me get to work.”
Spencer followed him out. “Call if you need anything, with Annie or Nell. And watch your back. I expect to see you both at the next briefing.”
Nick waved over his shoulder as he headed down the hallway to Dr. Kilpatrick’s office. But when he walked past the maze of detectives’ work stations in the third floor’s center room, he saw his uncle sitting at his desk, and changed course. “What are you doing here?”
George Madigan, dressed in his suit-and-tie best, rose from Nick’s chair to greet him with a handshake. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Sorry.” Nick answered his uncle’s teasing smile and tossed his gloves and the break-in report on his desk. “It’s been a long morning. How are you?”
“Ready for a nap.” It was a joke. Despite the gray that peppered his hair, George’s sturdy physique and coiled energy said he was fit and fine and up to something. “Like you, I’ve been sitting in a long meeting—talking with Precinct Chief Taylor about the task force budget. Because I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d stick around to see if you were up for lunch.”
“I can’t. I’ve got a B and E call I need to get to.” But Nick was more concerned about his uncle’s passing comment than he was about missing lunch. “You and Chief Taylor were talking about the task force?”
“Thought you might pick up on that.”
Feeling the need to go on the defensive, Nick pulled back the front of his jacket and propped his hands at his hips. “Are you cutting our funding?”
