uniformed officers led Brian Elliott out of the nearby interview room. He’d changed into an expensively tailored suit and a smug untouchability that made him look more like a Forbes 500 mogul than the prisoner wearing a pair of handcuffs and ankle-band tracking device he truly was. An entourage of his attorney, Kenna Parker, and Elliott’s ex-wife, Mara Boyd-Elliott, followed behind. One a dark blonde, the other, platinum, both women wore business suits and carried winter coats and attaché cases, looking like they’d all just finished a business meeting instead of a legal debriefing.
Spencer’s arm went out to push Bailey behind him as the group came closer. He felt her fingers curling into the back of his jacket and something inside him shifted, grew wary. When Elliott spotted Spencer, the bastard grinned in recognition. The other man slowed his stride and the soft gasp at Spencer’s back made him reach down to fold his hand around Bailey’s wrist beside him.
“Keep walking, Elliott,” Spencer ordered.
“Now, now, detective. I’ve missed our little chats in the interrogation room” the man taunted. “Arrest any other innocent people lately?”
“Brian.” That was the ex, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret my investment. I’m willing to support you to a point, but antagonizing the police won’t help your case.”
Elliott shrugged off her touch. “You only posted bail so your paper could report on the trial without it looking like a personal vendetta against me.”
Mara eased a calming sigh behind his back. “Unbiased reporting isn’t the only reason. There’s still a place in my heart for you. And I believe in...your innocence.”
Innocence? The newspaper publisher could barely choke out the word. Spencer wondered how the woman could live with herself, putting Elliott out on the street just so she could sell more papers.
Did he need to remind them about blood matching Elliott’s type being found at the scene of one of the assaults? Had they forgotten his DNA matching the child of a woman who claimed to have been raped by the Rose Red Rapist? Did any of them think Elliott could deny kidnapping a woman and being captured by the K-9 cop and his German Shepherd partner on Spencer’s task force?
Spencer could easily imagine the arguments Elliott’s attorney would bring up. The blood sample had been corrupted and could match any number of suspects. The child’s birth mother, who’d never reported being raped, had had a nervous breakdown and been committed to a mental hospital, so her version of events was suspect. The abduction could be pled down to a lesser crime and argued that it was a solo occurrence, not the culmination of a reign of serial terror through the city.
But there was no arguing away the eyewitness testimony of the courageous woman digging her fingers into his shoulder blade right now. Or Spencer’s driving need to protect the truth she represented.
“Get him out of here, Ms. Parker.” Spencer repeated the command to move the handcuffed man.
But when the uniformed guards urged the prisoner forward, Brian Elliott planted his feet and turned. “Wait. Do I know you, miss?”
Bailey released her death grip on Spencer’s jacket and slid her right hand down his arm. At the brush of her chilled skin against his, he turned his palm into hers, lacing their fingers together, offering his protection and support against the man who’d terrorized her a year earlier. When she latched on to him with both hands, Spencer tightened his hold.
Be tough, Bailey, he wanted to say. He could feel her trembling beside him. Be just as strong as you claim to be.
Kenna Parker nudged aside one of the uniformed officers and moved in front of her client. “You shouldn’t have any contact with the opposing witnesses.”
Damn straight.
But Elliott ignored his attorney’s plea. “You’re Jackson Mayweather’s daughter, er, stepdaughter. I’ve had a few business dealings with Jackson, and I’ve given a lot of money to your mother’s charities. She does good work for local hospitals and children’s groups.” He was making small talk with Bailey? Was he hoping she’d recant her statement because he knew her parents or could pour on the charm? “You’re the woman who thinks I hurt you.”
“Thinks?” The trembling stopped. Was some steel creeping into that delicate backbone of hers? Or was she on the verge of passing out?
“Brian,” Kenna Parker warned. “Don’t say another word.”
Mara Elliott tried to get him moving, too. “Darling, we need to go.”
“Don’t darling me—!” The cuffs that linked Elliott’s wrist jangled as he jerked against them.
Bailey’s hand jerked in Spencer’s grip. Good. Not passing out.
He snapped an order to the two unis. “Get him out of here.”
The brief show of anger quickly passed, and, with the officers grabbing hold of Brian Elliott, the perp raised his hands in calm surrender. “I’m all right, dear,” he apologized to his ex. “I’ve got this, Kenna.” Then he turned his attention back to Spencer. “I’m sorry for what happened to your friend there. Yes, I’ve made some mistakes, but I’m not the monster you think I am. The man you want is still out there, Montgomery, lying in wait to hurt some other helpless woman.” He gestured to the women there to support him, as if their presence was proof of his innocence. “I’m no serial rapist.”
Maybe Spencer’s command hadn’t been clear. “Go. Now.”
A brunette woman, wearing a coat over her suit, and holding a cell phone to her ear, came around the corner and stopped. Her dark eyes widened as she took in the confrontation in the hallway. “Mr. Elliott?” Regina Hollister, Brian Elliott’s executive assistant, paused for a moment, then asked the party on her call to wait while she joined the group. “I have your car waiting for us out front. Is everything all right?”
“Get him out of here.” Or Spencer would do the job himself.
The two officers pulled Elliott into step between them. Kenna Parker hurried ahead to consult with Elliott’s assistant. “Out front where the reporters are?”
Regina nodded and put her cell phone back to her ear. “I’ll ask the driver to meet us someplace else.”
“No.” Kenna stopped her and turned to face her client, walking backward as they continued down the hallway. “Let’s use the press to our advantage. The officers will uncuff you before you leave the building. I don’t want you to make any comment, but let’s show Kansas City that you’re a free man.”
“For now,” Spencer called after them. “Don’t let that ankle bracelet pinch too tight, Elliott.”
When Brian Elliott began a retort, Kenna Parker pressed her finger against his lips to shush him until he smiled and nodded his acquiescence. Spencer didn’t move or look away until Brian Elliott and the others had turned the corner toward the bank of public elevators and disappeared from sight.
Easing out a tense breath as the threat left, Spencer quickly became aware of other sorts of tension humming through his body. Bailey had her left hand curled around his arm now. Her whole body was hugged up against his side, seeking shelter or maybe just something stronger than she was to hold her upright. Several more seconds passed before Spencer acknowledged that he wasn’t
