KCPD Protector

by Julie Miller

  “Elise?” Cho’s tone was suddenly one of concern. “Are you all right?”

  She steadied her breathing. “It’s hailing here. The noise of it startled me, that’s all.”

  “I’m north of town so the storm hasn’t hit here yet.” His voice grew as businesslike and commanding as she’d ever heard George’s. “I’d better hang up and call my crew chiefs, make sure the facilities are all secure. People go nuts when the weather’s bad. Thanks for the update.”

  Nuts. Yeah. Maybe the intense, unusual weather pattern was the reason her world had turned upside down this week.

  “You bet. Goodbye, sir.” George’s door was open by the time she hung up.

  “Anything important?” he asked, striding to her window to watch the hailstones collecting on the ledge outside. “Some of those are golf-ball-size. It must be pretty windy out there to keep sending the rain back up to the clouds.”

  Elise rose to stand beside him, although she seemed to jump every time one of those tiny missiles hit the window. “That was Garrett Cho—asking about Commissioner Cartwright-Masterson’s granddaughter and assuring you his team is ready to deal with the storm and its aftermath.”

  “Good.” The window fogged when he released a deep breath. With the subtlest of movements he reached across the few inches separating them and brushed the back of one finger along her arm up to her shoulder. “Goose bumps. From the storm or something else?”

  He might hurt the things you care about.

  As much as she wanted to turn into that caress, she knew it was wiser to cross her arms and pull away. “We really shouldn’t. Not here.”

  The gruffness returned to his tone. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  And she wouldn’t get a chance to. Her phone rang and Elise returned to her desk. Recognizing the line that lit up, she answered. “Hey, Shane. What’s going on?”

  “Hey, Elise—I mean, Miss Brown—um, there’s a James Westbrook heading to your office. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he told me he’s here to see you, not the deputy commissioner. He said he’s a friend, so is that okay?”

  “He’s coming here? Now?”

  Not the reaction Shane had expected. She heard his chair bang against the wall or desk as he stood too quickly. “Do you need me to come get him?”

  And do what, arrest him? She didn’t even know what James wanted yet. Just because she didn’t want to deal with another confrontation didn’t justify sending an armed police officer after him. “No. I just have other things I need to do this morning. Thanks, Shane, I’ll handle it.”

  There was a sharp rap at the door before she hung up the phone. When she saw James’s dripping clothes and fogged-up glasses, her What do you want? became “You’re soaking wet.” Elise grabbed the box of tissues on her desk and hurried across the room, pulling out several to hand to him when he tried to wipe off his glasses on his sopping oxford shirt. “Here.”

  “I could have swum across the street from the parking garage.” He wiped his face with more tissues before putting his glasses back on and pointing to the window. “Man, it’s a bear driving out there. I could barely see beyond my headlights.”

  Elise glanced over her shoulder, meeting George’s inquisitive glare before looking past him. The hail had stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving what looked like snowfall outside on the ledge. But the wind gusted a wave of rain against the glass, washing away her view.

  Ignoring both Mother Nature and the sturdy forearms crossed over George’s chest, Elise urged James to the sofa before crossing to a storage closet. “I’ve got a stash of hand towels here. Have a seat. The leather’s been waterproofed.”

  She wasn’t foolish enough to think James had come here to discuss the weather. But she wasn’t prepared for his anger to follow her across the room. “I want to know why the police stopped by my apartment and called my father to find out if we had proof that we were at the ball game yesterday afternoon. Proof! Can you imagine the questions Dad was asking me? That pesky little detective said he was even going to find out who was selling frosty malts in our section at the stadium to see if the guy remembered seeing me there.”

  George moved several steps closer, inviting himself into the one-sided conversation. “What did you tell Detective Fensom?”

  “Why did Detective Fensom ask?” For a moment, James lost interest in Elise and drying off. Instead, he went toe-to-toe with George, dripping on the rug in front of him. “This is about me interrupting your little date the other night, isn’t it. You’re abusing your power, Madigan. If you’re trying to force me out of Elise’s life, it won’t work.”

  “What did you tell Detective Fensom?”

  James snatched the towel Elise handed him and pulled off his glasses to wipe his face and hair. “I was at the game. The Royals won. My father will tell you the same thing, and so will the guy who sold me the frosty malts.”

  George wasn’t fazed by James’s accusation or the puddle on his carpet. “And you didn’t leave the stadium at all.”

  Shoving his fingers through his hair to comb the blond spikes back into order, James refused to answer. “I’m beginning to think that you’ve been lying to me, Lise.

  “Lying? How?”

  “You don’t want to be friends. You put your boyfriend up to this harassment campaign.”

  “George isn’t my boy—”

  “I don’t think you want to see me at all.”

  Not when he was like this. He’d never been this petulant and temperamental back in college. She never would have gone out with him if he had been. But three years of dating and almost marrying a man made him deserving of some type of explanation. “There was another incident yesterday, James. The deputy commissioner and Detective Fensom are investigating. Someone tried to...frighten me.”

  “Someone tried to kidnap her,” George corrected, driving home the reason for his so-called harassment. A boom of thunder punctuated the danger she’d faced, and Elise shivered. He pointed to her sandals and the purple bruise and bandages on her right foot. “Someone assaulted her.”

  Pretty minor injury compared to the damage done to her peace of mind and any sense of security she’d once had.

  “And you think it was me?” James turned his narrowed eyes on her. “That’s rich.” He paced to the door, then came back, pointing an accusing finger at them both. “This is just like that investigation in Europe. Having to prove my innocence when I wasn’t guilty of a damn thing.”

  George kept pushing for answers. “The death of your girlfriend?”

  “Oh, so you checked that out, too. That’s why that cop out by the elevator frisked me before I could come see you.” She wondered if it was grief that made him look so suddenly gray and gaunt. “Because you think I’m going to kill you, too?”

  “James!” Elise’s knees wobbled and she quickly sat in the closest chair. Whether fueled by anger or grief, his words cut her to the quick. She hadn’t believed the man she’d once loved would want to hurt her. But she hadn’t known just how much pain he’d been in, either.

  George took a step toward James, forcing him to retreat without ever touching him. “Officer Wilkins was doing his job, Westbrook. We’re on heightened security this week. Even if you had an appointment, he wouldn’t let you just wander in here. And I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment.”

  “I came to see Elise. Not you.”

  “Unless you start talking to her with some respect, you’re going to be dealing with me.”

  James seemed to consider George’s threat. Maybe he hadn’t realized how vile his words had sounded. If he’d been lashing out in grief, she could forgive that. But George wasn’t about to.

  “You leave now and deal with my detectives,” he warned, “or you answer our questions.”

  Making his decision, James sank onto the
couch opposite Elise. “I’m sorry, Lise. You know I didn’t mean that. I love you.”

  Not the most comforting words a volatile man could say to her right now. “You loved your girlfriend.”

  “My fiancée,” he corrected, conveying the depth of his grief. James wadded the towel in his hands, then shook it out and folded it neatly before saying anything more. “Marta’s death was an accident. Our car went off the road and hit a bridge abutment. I survived with barely a scratch because I had my seat belt on. But she didn’t even make it to the ambulance.”

  How awful. If he’d loved Marta as much as he claimed, it was no wonder he’d taken a leave from his job and come home to Kansas City. Home was almost always the best place to heal a wound like that. “I’m so sorry.”

  George sat on the arm of her chair and rested his hand on her shoulder, gently halting her from saying anything more. “Was there an inquiry?”

  James nodded, his normally bright eyes looking dull and sad. “I couldn’t even grieve, there were too many cops asking too many questions. Accusing me of things like staging the accident. I think if I’d died, too, they wouldn’t have cared.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You’re probably thinking that I want to replace Marta with you. I don’t. I know you and I were done a long time ago. But until I find someone else and can move on, I thought it’d be nice to have a friend.”

  She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Could grief and anger twist a man’s psyche until he couldn’t distinguish reality from the relationship he’d lost? Was James the threat George suspected him to be? A familiar face and playing on her sympathies would make a perfect disguise for a man who wanted to divert suspicion from himself.

  “It’s okay, Lise.” James leaned forward, stretching out his hand to hers, perhaps misreading her silent tears. But she couldn’t seem to make herself reach out to clasp the peace offering. “I want you to know I was cleared of any charges. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Maybe he hadn’t misread her at all. His gaze shifted up to George. “And your cop friend here doesn’t need to sic his buddies on me, either.”

  The whole building vibrated with a low-pitched drum roll of thunder that lasted several seconds. And maybe it was just Elise’s imagination, but the building seemed to be swaying with the wind. “Has anyone checked the weather report lately?”

  James straightened. His blue eyes flickered over her, perhaps gauging her concern, perhaps judging her for refusing to take his hand. “Something bad’s coming. You feel it, too, don’t you.”

  Elise shivered. The barometric pressure must have suddenly dropped. “I was hoping for something a little more scientific.”

  George patted her shoulder and nodded to her desk. “Why don’t you get online—see if there are any new watches or warnings we need to be aware of. I’ll show Mr. Westbrook out.”

  She nodded and got up, relieved to have something to do besides sit there and wonder what James’s hand would feel like in a leather glove against her skin. Would there be a shock of recognition to the man on the Plaza?

  “Goodbye, Lise,” James called after her.

  She didn’t even care that he still had the damp towel draped around his neck. Until she was certain of his innocence—of any man’s innocence or guilt—she couldn’t afford to be too trusting or forgiving, or care too much that an old friend was hurting. “Bye, James.”

  Pulling up the local weather, she cringed at the swath of dark red and orange that covered a good portion of the state line—including almost all of Kansas City.

  When George strolled back in, he was rolling up the sleeves of his blue shirt. “The guy tells a good story.”

  Elise glanced up. “Do you think James was making that up about his fiancée? He seemed so heartbroken.”

  “It’d be a good way to gain your sympathy and trust, which is exactly what the sleazeball who’s trying to get his hands on you would do.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “You weren’t completely buying it, either. You wouldn’t touch him.”

  George had noticed. That meant James had probably noticed the slight, too. “I kept thinking of the man who grabbed me on the Plaza. What if his grip felt the same?”

  “All the more reason to shoo him out of here.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar next, a sure sign the man was getting down to some serious work. “I told Shane to escort him all the way downstairs and keep an eye on him until he leaves the building. The kid’s eager to do me a favor and get a good recommendation for making detective. Westbrook can wait in the lobby until the storm lets up.”

  “And if that story’s legit and James’s grief is real?”

  “Then it upset you. And I don’t like that, either.”

  As much as she loved having George stand up to protect her, she could already see how letting their personal feelings into their working relationship was compromising their professionalism. “You’re the face of KCPD now, while the commissioner is gone. You can’t put me above—”

  The lights in the room blinked off and on, a sure sign the weather was getting worse. Her argument died on her lips and she stood. The windows rattled beneath another assault of wind.

  “That’s not good.” George moved to the window, peering out into the wall of rain and darkness there. “What have we got?”

  Although Elise’s computer had shut down and was busy powering up again, she’d memorized the dangers swirling around them. “Thunderstorm warnings. Strong winds. Heavy rain. Several tornado watches in the area.”

  He drummed his fingers against the windowsill.

  “What are you thinking?” Elise asked.

  “An ounce of prevention...” He brought his hand back to his gun and badge at his waist. Decision made, he faced her. “We need to move downstairs. Find out how many people are on the top floors and let’s send out a text and call advisory.”

  The boss was back. This, she knew how to handle. “Right.”

  She sat down at her computer and pulled up the program to issue a building-wide text and phone alert. She was pulling up a separate screen to get a list of personnel checked in on the top three floors when she heard wet shoes squeaking on the hallway’s marble floor.

  Elise glanced up. “Shane’s not at his post to screen visitors.”

  George warned her to stay put at her desk. With his hand on the butt of his gun, he moved toward the open door. “Keep working. I’ll check it out. Ah, hell.”

  Courtney Reiter came through the doorway with her arms wide-open, and wrapped them around George. “Thank God I got here in one piece.”

  With Courtney’s wet hair and dripping yellow trench coat soaking his clothes, George took her by the shoulders and gently pushed her away. “This is not a good time, Court.”

  The normally stunning blonde looked almost waifish as she clung to her ex-husband’s wrists. From this distance, Elise couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears that left the other woman’s mascara running in rivulets down each cheek. “I could have been trapped in that elevator when the power went out. Do you have any idea how frightening that is? You know how scared I am of storms.”

  “What are you doing here?” With a glance over Courtney’s head and a nod toward the closet, he instructed Elise to find them more towels.

  “Where were you last night, George?” the blonde accused. “And don’t say working because I called here as well as your cell number and you never answered. I left messages and you never called me back. Did you see all that rain we had?”

  “I was aware of the storm.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the hallway. “We’re in the middle of dealing with round two right now, so I’m going to ask you to leave. You can wait downstairs where it’s safe until the storm passes.”

  The woman might appear helpless, but she was definitely persistent. With a quick turn, sh
e spun free of George’s grasp and walked over to the sitting area. “The ground was so dry that the rain leaked right into the basement of our house.”

  “Your house, Court—”

  “It’s probably ankle deep by now.” She sat, nodding her thanks when Elise handed her a towel. And she kept right on talking as Elise gave George a towel to dab at his sleeves and shirtfront. “I had a creek running from one of those egress windows right through to the laundry room drain. I had to move all my storage boxes up onto shelves and two-by-fours. I needed your help and you weren’t...” Elise’s hands must have lingered too long on the towel George pressed against his shoulder. She turned to see Courtney staring right at her. “You were with her, weren’t you?”

  Elise felt the stillness come over George’s body and recognized the quiet anger in him. Putting the towel in Elise’s hands, he nudged her toward her desk. “Get that alert sent out. Now.”

  “Oh, my God.” Courtney smeared mascara across her cheek as she blotted her face with the towel. “I knew there was something going on between the two of you. Isn’t an affair with your secretary against departmental regulations?”

  George took Courtney by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Let it go. You and I aren’t married anymore.”

  Smarting at the barb aimed squarely at her, Elise clicked Send, relaying the deputy commissioner’s order to close down shop and head for lower floors in the HQ building. “Message sent, sir.”

  An accusation like George’s ex had made was exactly the sort of thing that could cost Elise her job, and make it difficult to get hired on someplace else. And, being labeled the woman who ignored the rules and slept with her boss wouldn’t do a whole lot for the personal reputation she’d worked so hard to rebuild.

  “Good. Now make sure we’ve got our key files backed up and shut things down so we can head down, too.”

  This time, Courtney couldn’t extricate herself from George’s firmer grasp. “In my head, I always knew you’d move on one day. But then, for so long, you never did. I guess I took it for granted that you and I... I made such a mistake when I left you, didn’t I.”