The American Temp and the British Inspector

by Pat White

  “Barnes,” he answered. He glanced at Max. “We’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone shut. “Agent Kreegan was just assaulted outside the command center.”

  Chapter Ten

  Agent Ruth Kreegan recited the event with calm professionalism. Max listened, trying to ignore her red cheek and the lost expression in her eyes.

  He felt responsible for this attack as sure as if he’d been the attacker. Max should have known that if the bastard was bold enough to walk up to the building and leave a love note, he wouldn’t hesitate to go after a team member.

  But why? Were they getting close?

  “He popped out from the shadows?” Barnes asked.

  Max kept his distance, and his mouth shut. He feared the vile curses that would escape his lips.

  “I didn’t see anything.” She glanced at Max, her eyes grayed and tired. “I had no clue he’d come after me.”

  Of course not. She was a laboratory creature, a scientist who solved cases from fingerprints and DNA. He read disappointment in her eyes, disappointment that he’d been unable to protect her from the savagery.

  “The killer has never gotten this close before,” Art said.

  “Why attack her, guv?” Bobby asked.

  The front door burst open. Spinelli came into the kitchen. “I came as soon as I heard. What the hell happened?”

  “She must be close to something vital,” Barnes said.

  “Or he’s trying to spook us,” Bobby added. “Letting us know how close he is.”

  “Coward,” Spinelli offered, standing straight. “He should try picking on someone his own size.”

  Max glanced at Agent Kreegan, then at Cassie. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, as if trying to steel herself from the trauma. Would the killer attack another member of his team? Keep going after the weak links: Agent Kreegan, the computer geek, maybe even Cassie?

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get a good look at him,” Agent Kreegan said, her voice cracking.

  Cassie sat next to her at the table and held an ice pack to the woman’s cheek. “You’ll want to hold this here to keep the swelling down.”

  Cassie probably thought she’d seen the last of this kind of violence, yet here she was, back in the thick of it.

  Because of Max.

  “Spinelli, take Agent Kreegan home,” Max ordered. “Be careful you’re not followed.”

  “Come on, Ruth,” Spinelli said, offering her his hand.

  Agent Kreegan stood, glanced at Max and said, “Sorry.”

  “Nonsense. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “This is why I came back.” She pulled a folder from her briefcase and placed it on the table. “My analysis of the note left on the car this morning. No prints, but the paper is unusual. I was hoping Eddie could trace it.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Eddie said, grabbing the folder, and disappearing down the hall.

  “Don’t forget this.” Cassie handed Agent Kreegan the ice pack.

  “Thanks,” Kreegan said, and shuffled out with Spinelli by her side.

  “What do you think, guv?” McDonald asked.

  “Not sure,” Max said. “Could you finish up the last two pubs? Run the photograph past the bartenders and see if anyone recognizes the Cooper boy. We think he stopped into Kelsey’s last night. Maybe he popped into another pub as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Bobby, keep working on background about Lyle Cooper.”

  “On it, guv.”

  “Barnes, join me upstairs for a minute?” Max said.

  Max brushed past Cassie, not making eye contact. He couldn’t bring himself to see the look of disillusionment in her eyes after he made his next move.

  He had no choice. He was putting his team in danger. Between his unstable mental condition and the killer’s personal vendetta, it had become obvious in the last hour what he had to do. He had to remove himself from Blackwell—for everyone’s benefit.

  He climbed the stairs to the second floor and went into the TV room. Barnes followed.

  “Close the door, will you?” Max said.

  Barnes closed the double glass doors and turned to him, question in his eyes.

  “You and the Patron of Blackwell were wrong to bring me onto this case,” Max started. “I think it’s best that I leave tomorrow.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  Max clenched his jaw.

  “What’s this about?” Barnes asked.

  “It’s about me endangering the lives of the people on this team. C.K. is trying to undermine our investigation by destroying me, and what better way than to go after my team? He knows how protective I am of all of you.”

  “Except me.”

  “Don’t joke about this, Barnes. Agent Kreegan could have been killed.”

  “She knew the risks when she joined the team.”

  “She didn’t know this kind of thing could happen.” Max paced to the window.

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “The bloody hell it isn’t.” The inability to catch the killer before he hurt the people around him tore him up inside.

  “We’re only two days into this case and you’re giving up already? What about the dead boys? What about Lyle Cooper?”

  “You’ll find him.”

  “Not without your help.”

  “Rubbish.” He turned to glare at him. “I didn’t want this assignment. You came looking for me, remember? Foolish on your part. I’m wondering if Charles Edmonds was right, that I’m not as good as my reputation. It’s obvious I’m not up to solving this case.” He eyed Barnes. “You suspected as much, didn’t you? But you were trying to ease your guilty conscience by making me the lead and giving me another chance.”

  Barnes narrowed his eyes, only slightly. God, the man was a rock of control.

  “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel guilty about what happened at King’s Cross,” Barnes said, his voice low. “But I won’t take the blame for you being a coward.”

  All the rage, all the frustration of the past year shot to the surface. Max slugged Barnes in the jaw, biting down at the pain shooting through his knuckles. Barnes stumbled back and Max started for the door.

  “Don’t you walk away from this,” Barnes said.

  He grabbed Max from behind and pinned him against the wall. Max jerked his elbow back, nailing Barnes in the ribs. Barnes released him and Max spun around.

  “Have you gone mad?” Max said, horrified by the man’s bloody lip.

  But instead of answering him, Barnes lunged.

  They tumbled to the floor, each trying to pin the other. Adrenaline shot to every nerve ending of his body, blowing any rational thought from his mind. The bombing…his resignation…the headaches and dizzy spells…hiding out in Seattle…Cassie.

  A sweet girl he may very well have put in danger by bringing her here.

  Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Max pushed off his second in command.

  “Enough,” Max said, standing. Using his cane for balance, he leaned over, grabbed Barnes’s glasses from the floor and offered them to him.

  Barnes’s lip was swollen and blood dripped from his nose. Max’s gut twisted into knots.

  Like an athlete, Barnes got up and took the glasses from Max.

  “Glad we finally got that out of the way,” Barnes said, brushing his lenses with his shirttail. The crisp white shirt had been pulled from his pants during the row. He nodded at Max, as if they’d just finished a civilized business meeting. Barnes glanced behind Max and his eyes widened.

  Max turned to find Cassie standing in the doorway; her eyes round as saucers.

  Shame tore at his chest. Without a word, he brushed past her and went down the hall. He had to get away, get some air.

  Get his bloody perspective.

  “Blast it, Barnes,” he muttered.

  He swung open the door to the fire escape and looked up at the Chicago night sky. Then he glanced at his hands: blood smears
colored them; the color of death.

  Another boy would die because of Max’s incompetence, and he was wasting time brawling with his own man.

  “Bloody hell!”

  He’d truly gone mad.

  “LET ME HELP,” Cassie said.

  “I can manage.” Jeremy dabbed at his nose with a cold washcloth. He eyed himself in the bathroom mirror: his nose bled but wasn’t broken, his lip was going to be swollen by morning.

  He’d do the same thing over again to challenge Max’s conscience. Jeremy knew if Max left now, he’d never forgive himself.

  Jeremy wouldn’t allow that. The man had suffered enough.

  “What happened?” Cassie said.

  Jeremy eyed her in the mirror. He’d always suspected she was a lot tougher than Max realized.

  “Disagreement,” Jeremy said, inspecting his nose.

  “I’ll get you some ice.”

  “I’m fine. It’s Max who needs your help.”

  “He didn’t look so bad.”

  Jeremy eyed her.

  “I mean, not that you didn’t get your licks in, I’m sure you did.”

  “His injuries go a lot deeper than a bloody lip,” Jeremy said.

  “Can you tell me what started the fight?”

  “He’s threatening to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s blaming himself for the attack on Agent Kreegan.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  Jeremy ran the washcloth under cold water. “Blame is a powerful emotion. I was hoping to change his mind before he drowned in it.”

  “Did you?”

  He placed the washcloth in the sink and looked at her. “I think so. Can’t be positive. Maybe you should have a go at it.”

  She fiddled with the gold locket around her neck. “I don’t think he wants to see me right now. I could tell by the look on his face he’s ashamed of himself.”

  “Well, he shouldn’t be. I intentionally provoked him.” He went back to tending his lip. “I’ll do anything to get him back in the fight. He’s spent the last year loafing around feeling sorry for himself. He’s better than that.”

  “You really care about him,” she murmured.

  She looked at him as if trying to make out his char acter. Jeremy avoided eye contact. She was dangerous, this little blonde. She had a way of looking past Jeremy’s well-practiced composure and into the angst buried deep inside. He also sensed she was a master of compassion, something that mystified Jeremy.

  Her compassionate nature made her perfect for Max.

  “Go on,” Jeremy said, looking into the mirror and holding her gaze. “Help him.”

  Cassie smiled and touched his shoulder. He held perfectly still, totally unaffected by her gesture. If Cassie didn’t know better, she’d think him cold and detached.

  “I’ll get slugger some ice.” She turned and walked down the hall, framing her cheeks with her hands.

  She made her way down to the kitchen and filled a towel with ice. The reality was, Max needed a lot more than ice: he needed understanding—and someone to challenge him out of his darkness.

  Forging upstairs to the fire escape, she went in search of her patient. Struggling with a loose rung, she awkwardly climbed the ladder, figuring this is where she’d go if she needed to hide out and escape her own shame.

  She suspected Max felt ashamed for losing it with Jeremy. She’d read it in his eyes.

  Making her way to the roof, she squinted to see into the darkness. The half-moon only slightly lit the roof. “Max?”

  No response.

  “Come on, where are you? It’s creepy up here.”

  “Then go back down,” his deep voice said.

  She spotted him, sitting down, leaning against the wall.

  She took a deep, calming breath and brought him the ice pack, praying for courage to say the right thing. Lord knows having Max in her life had forced her to be strong. And it had allowed her to feel compassion for a man—a first since Karl’s abuse.

  “I brought you some ice,” she said, standing over him.

  “I don’t need it.”

  “Ah, tough guy, huh?”

  “More like madman.” He looked up at her with that lost expression. Blood smeared across his lip.

  “Looks like Jeremy got his licks in.” She kneeled beside him and pressed the ice to his lip. “Tell me you didn’t rip the stitches from your hand.”

  “I didn’t.” He watched her.

  She kept her eyes trained to the ice pack.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “Hey, it’s nice on the roof. Why should you be the only one to enjoy the view?” She studied the stars.

  She felt the warmth of his hand touch hers. She glanced at him. His expression of shame mixed with regret tugged at her heart.

  “You really should leave me alone,” he said.

  “Why? So you can beat yourself up?”

  “I’d rather it be me than you.” He took the ice from her and dropped it beside him. “You saw me down there, you saw what I did to one of my own men.”

  “It sounds like the two of you had been working up to that for a long time.”

  “I’m unstable.”

  “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t. You feel responsible for the attack on Agent Kreegan. I understand that. You’re a perfectionist.”

  “How did you get that from me threatening to leave the team and beating up Barnes?”

  “First, Barnes provoked you on purpose. He admitted as much. Second, I know you’re down on yourself for not finding the killer yet. It’s been two days, Max. No one’s that good.”

  “I should leave. I’m putting my people in danger by being here.”

  “No, actually, you’re punishing yourself because one of your agents was attacked.”

  “And I was helpless to prevent it. Just like…”

  “Just like what? The bombing?” She sat back on her heels. “Man, you’ve got an ego the size of Texas.”

  “Come again?”

  “You think you’re some kind of superhero who can save a station full of civilians single-handedly, or find a serial killer in forty-eight hours? Get over yourself. Accept yourself for who you are and move on.”

  “And who is that, exactly?”

  “A very smart detective who’s got a little extra something going for him.”

  “What, my good looks?” he joked.

  “That, and your keen investigative skills.”

  With a set jaw, he glanced at his hands.

  “Did it ever occur to you that your post-trauma condition may have heightened your sensitivity to things, sharpened your instinct? It’s possible. But you’ve got to deal with this head-on instead of running from it.”

  He shot to his feet. “The only thing to deal with is my inability to find a kidnapped college student. Blast, it’s as if the killer is always two steps ahead of us, like he knows our next move.”

  “You sent Agent McDonald back to the bars,” she said. “Something will turn up.”

  “And if we don’t find him?”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said.

  “The bloody hell it isn’t.”

  “Hey, guv?” Bobby said from the fire escape. “The Cooper boy’s been found.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Max leaned into his cane; regret tearing at his soul. No, the team still had twenty-four hours to find the boy.

  “Where?” he said.

  “He’s at Northwestern Hospital.”

  “He’s…”

  “Alive,” Bobby said.

  Tension drained from Max’s body. “Where did they find him?”

  “In an alley a few blocks from Kelsey’s. Come downstairs, guv, and we’ll fill you in.”

  Bobby disappeared from view.

  Max took a deep breath and glanced to the heavens in a silent prayer of thanks.

  Lyle Cooper was alive. Max hadn’t failed. Yet.

  “You okay?” Cassie touched h
is arm.

  “Better than I was five minutes ago.” He started for the ladder. “This isn’t over. He’ll take another boy and we’ll be back to fumbling around in the dark.”

  “Max.” She placed her hand to his arm.

  He stopped and glanced at her.

  “He was found only blocks from where we were tonight.” She smiled and withdrew her hand. “We must have been very close.”

  He hooked his cane to his forearm and climbed down the ladder, needing to get away from her. He didn’t want to continue the conversation about his growing madness. Maybe she was right, maybe facing it head-on would finally be the end of it.

  But would he ever be able to let go of the anger, fueled by incredible guilt?

  He stepped off the ladder and waited for her. Reaching up to steady her, Max grabbed her waist. The scent of mango taunted him, challenging him to rub his lips against her fine blond hair. She pulled away and turned to face him.

  Had she caught him fighting his attraction?

  Without warning she placed her hand to his cheek. “It’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t. If it were truly okay, they would have found C.K. by now. They would be heading back to Seattle where he’d help her find another job, away from Max. She deserved better. She deserved a whole, stable man.

  He couldn’t breathe with her touching him like this, so tender, so gentle, as though she wanted to heal him somehow. He grabbed her wrist and slid her hand from his face.

  “We need to get downstairs.” He ripped his gaze from her questioning blue eyes, innocent eyes that held such promise for something he knew could never be.

  He opened the door and motioned for her to lead the way, quite proud of himself for resisting the urge to kiss her again.

  He kept a safe distance as they went downstairs. He couldn’t risk getting that close again, close enough for her to set his cheek aflame with the touch of her hand.

  A proper gentleman would put her on a plane tomorrow before he lost all sense and self-control. Besides, he knew this case was far from over. If C.K. had lost control of his victim, he’d be more determined to make the next one pay with his life.

  They entered the front room of the command center.

  “Let’s have it,” Max said.

  Bobby straightened and read from his notebook. “Lyle Cooper was found fumbling about in the alley behind the Red Lion Pub. The victim was disoriented, muttering, bumping into walls, that sort of thing. A bartender phoned police, who ordered an ambulance. The boy had contusions on his head, scratches on his arms.”