by Julie Miller
“Come on, guys.” Nick shouldered his way through to Annie’s side. “Give her some room to breathe.”
There were lots of introductions, strong handshakes and friendly greetings. She gave a quick rundown on what a criminologist did. And no, she’d never had stitches before. Did the bruise forming beneath the edge of the bandage really hurt? And then they were regaling her with past injuries, comparing if one sister’s broken arm from a skiing mishap had hurt more than one brother’s broken leg from a football collision.
In the span of a mere few minutes, there were conversations over conversations, and Annie lost track of more than one. She might have gotten the two brothers switched around. The names all started with N, right? Well, no, the mom’s name was Trudy. The silver-haired man was Nicolas, Senior—but Nick’s dad was Clay and Nick was the Junior. Or maybe Clay was a middle name and, oh heck.
“We haven’t met.” Annie startled at the hand on her elbow. She turned to see a distinguished-looking man in a cashmere sweater whose sharp gray eyes seemed faintly familiar. He pulled her a few steps away from the chaos and smiled. “I’m George Madigan. Nick’s mother is my sister.”
Annie snapped to attention. She wiped her palm on the black wool of her coat before shaking his hand. “Deputy Commissioner Madigan?”
“Guilty as charged.” She glanced over her shoulder. Nick was taking the opportunity to herd his family to a less congested location out of the path of hospital staff for this early morning meet-and-greet. “You’re Annabelle Hermann.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Really? Nick was related to one of KCPD’s top-ranking cops? He could have pulled rank if CSI Supervisor Taylor had threatened him with a reprimand. And what connections did she have? Who was looking out for her in all of tonight’s mess? Her eyes narrowed as she turned back to one of the department’s senior command officers. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all. I oversee the budget for the task force among other things, so I’m familiar with all your names. But this isn’t an official visit.” He nodded toward the retreating group. “We all happened to be at Nick’s house when my assistant called with the Dispatch report about an officer being hurt.”
“And you thought it was Nick.” That explained the crowd of Fensoms. “That must have scared you guys. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a hazard of being a cop, Annabelle. My ex-wife couldn’t handle the risks involved, but Trudy’s side of the family seems to take it all in stride.”
That, they did. En masse.
“It’s Annie, sir.” The nerves that tightened her chest eased a little. The deputy commissioner’s presence was just an uncomfortable coincidence, not a checkup on her inability to protect a crime scene. “No one calls me Annabelle anymore. Not since my folks passed.”
“You lost them both?”
“Yes, sir. A car accident ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He switched the coat he carried to the opposite arm and abruptly changed topics. “I’m assuming your assault is related to the Rose Red Rapist investigation and I’ll see a report on my desk in the next few days?”
Maybe this was some kind of off-duty check on the task force’s progress, or lack thereof, with tonight’s setback, after all. Annie wasn’t sure exactly how the task force reports filtered up to the administrative offices of KCPD, but she was certain she’d be little more than a footnote at the next precinct chiefs’ meeting with the commissioner. She’d better explain herself now. “I believe someone wanted to destroy evidence on the case, and I happened to be in the way of what he was after.”
“Do you think it was our perp coming back to clean up the crime scene?”
“The Rose Red Rapist?” Would the man who’d been terrorizing the women of Kansas City for months now actually be bold enough to return to the scene of his crime? And possibly impersonate a cop to do it? The man they were after had been an enigma for so long, she’d just assumed he’d remain an anonymous threat in the shadows, and not risk any dealings with the authorities, whether perfectly disguised or not. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s a possibility, but I hate to speculate without more proof.”
Which they no longer had. Annie wilted inside her coat.
“And all the evidence from Rachel Dunbar’s murder is gone?”
“Everything but the body. And Mac talked to the M.E. who said her body had been—” she swallowed the bile the mere thought conjured “—sterilized like the previous victims.”
“So we won’t get much there,” he concluded.
“No, sir. I did manage to save the pictures I took of the scene. Supervisor Taylor is processing those back at the lab.”
“I see. Well, I’m glad your injuries weren’t more serious.” Just like that, George Madigan switched back to the friendly uncle again. “You have all your departmental insurance information?”
“Yes, sir. They took care of that when I checked in.”
He smiled. “Good. And if you’re a friend of Nick, it’s Uncle George. When we’re off duty, of course.”
“Sir?” She wasn’t a friend of Nick’s, and she couldn’t call the deputy commissioner by his first name.
He winked one of those gray eyes and laughed. “We’ll work on that, shall we?”
When he crooked his elbow to escort her down the hallway, inviting her to rejoin the rest of Nick’s chatty, outgoing family, Annie hesitated. If she couldn’t handle Nick or his uncle one-on-one without her guard fully in place, then no way could she handle them all at once. Her breath caught in her chest and she buried her hands in the pockets of her coat and...
Her fingertips brushed against a pair of small plastic cylinders in the depths of her right pocket. Annie’s toes curled inside her boots. The blood samples she’d taken off the alley wall were in her pocket. She still had evidence! The vials hadn’t been in her kit, but technically, they’d never been out of her possession. A wave of reviving energy whooshed through her veins. Two small swabs of cotton weren’t much to go on, but they were a whole lot more than she’d had a few seconds ago. She needed to call Mac Taylor and let him know they still had trace.
“Are you all right?” the deputy commissioner asked.
“Yes, I’m...” Annie pulled her hand from his arm and reached for her phone. She patted nothing but nubby wool. Where was her bag? “Excuse me a minute, um...” Annie frowned an apology. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Uncle George, but she could drop the sir. “I forgot my purse. Excuse me.”
Without waiting for a dismissal or a goodbye, she hurried back down the hallway into the exam bay where she’d gotten her stitches. Through the door, through the curtain—the friendly chatter of Fensom voices faded into white noise as she turned to retrieve her bag from the chair. Her lips buzzed with a big sigh of relief as she wrapped her hands around the pink paisley canvas and looped the long strap over her neck and shoulder.
And then she realized she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Four
“They can be a bit much, can’t they?”
Annie whirled around at the young voice. She grabbed on to the back of the chair and pressed her fingers to her temple as the room continued to spin. Damn this bump on the head anyway.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked them open to bring the teenaged girl texting on her phone into focus. The dark brown color of her ponytail and the lavender hand-knit scarf wrapped inside the collar of her coat matched the colorful gathering of similar hand-knit scarves—lovingly made Christmas presents for each member of Nick’s family, she’d guess—out in the waiting room. “You’re part of Detective Fensom’s family, too?”
The girl glanced up from the cell screen she was watching. “Nell Fensom. I’m Nick’s baby sister. Guess you already met Natalie and Nadine.”
“Nate and Noah, too. I’m Annie Hermann. I work with your brother.” Annie barely noted familiar blue eyes before the young woman turned her attention back to the phone. Her thumbs flew over the mini-keyboard. “
Must be someone important this early in the morning.”
“My boyfriend. Nicky KO’d seeing Jordan in person last night, so we’re keeping in touch this way.”
Although curiosity made her wonder why Nick didn’t approve of his sister’s relationship, Annie was anxious to get to her own phone and call Mac. She waited politely for the pretty teen to finish her texting and leave the room. “There sure are a lot of you.”
“I guess. Three boys, three girls, Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle George. Plenty of cousins, too.” Nell typed in X’s and O’s, hit Send and closed her phone before finally turning to Annie. “How many are in your family?”
Just me. Unless she counted the cats. But it was always so disheartening to share that. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” she answered, telling the truth without telling everything about her sad, small life.
Nell’s blue eyes widened. “You have your own bedroom?”
As an only child, privacy had never been an issue for Annie. “I have my own apartment.”
“Sweet.” Nell made a scoffing noise. “You’re lucky. Believe me, having five big brothers and sisters can be a pain in the—”
“There you are.” Nick barged into the tiny room. “Thought we’d scared you off and you were sneaking out the back way.” His apologetic grin deepened into a frown when he saw Annie’s company. “Nell, what are you doing in here?”
“Apparently not getting any privacy, am I.” She rolled her eyes and sauntered past her brother. “Because this isn’t a real emergency, can we go home now?”
Nick stopped his sister with a hand on her arm. “Why? Is Garza there waiting for you?”
“No.” Nell twisted her arm free. “You scared him off.”
Her phone beeped an alert and Nick’s frown flattened into a grim line. “Are you talking to him?”
“Bye-bye.” She waved her fingers over her shoulder, opening her phone as she waltzed into the hallway.
“Nell, you don’t know how dangerous...” Nick took a step after her, but his legs locked up and his shoulders stiffened like concrete inside his jacket. Annie watched him rein in the frustration or anger or whatever emotion he was feeling before he turned back around. He swiped a hand over his dark hair, leaving it in a spiky disarray that matched the turbulence in his eyes and made her fingers itch to smooth it back into place. “Sorry about that.”
“For what?” Annie puzzled at the emotions buffeting him. “She likes a boy—big brother doesn’t. She seems like a normal teenager to me.”
“If that’s normal, I’m never having kids.”
“You mean the large and in-charge Nick Fensom doesn’t have the patience to deal with a teenager?”
“A saint doesn’t have the patience to deal with that one. She’s smart-mouthed and defiant—”
“And probably just as hardheaded as you.” Annie wasn’t sure where this defense of a girl she’d just met was coming from. Maybe it was just in her nature to argue with Nick. Or maybe some part of her could understand Nell’s frustration in dealing with such an overprotective man. “She’s probably trying to find her place in your family. I’d think it’d be easy to get overlooked with all those people. I’m guessing that having a boyfriend makes her feel special.”
“What evidence are you analyzing now?” Nick taunted, drawing his shoulders back. “You’ve known her for all of two minutes. Nell’s place is at home, not sneaking out to meet her gangbanger boyfriend.”
Maybe Nick was right to be concerned. “He’s in a gang?”
“She claims he’s not anymore. But the kid’s still got the look. He’s got the car. He’s got the 7 tat.”
She’d worked plenty of crime scenes thanks to the 7th Street Snakes. The Latino gang was especially adept at jacking cars and selling drugs and dealing ruthlessly with anyone who stood in their way. “Have you checked this boy out? Does he know Nell’s big brother is a cop?”
“He knows. Look, about the Garza kid...”
“That’s her boyfriend?”
Nick nodded, then took a quick breath, as if he was about to say something more. But then he pressed his lips together and waved her toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
Annie tightened her grip around the strap of her purse. Although she understood Nick’s concern about a 7 gang member dating his sister, she didn’t like this acute awareness about all things Nick that seemed to have developed since the New Year had started. At least, she wasn’t comfortable being so attuned to the man she’d called a pain in the posterior just a few hours earlier. Telephoning Mac offered the perfect excuse to make a polite escape from any more Fensom encounters. “You’d better go check on Nell. Besides, your family is waiting for you, and I need to make a phone call. I managed to save a couple of blood swabs from the Dunbar murder scene and I need to get them to Mac. Why don’t you drive me to my car back at the crime scene instead? Then I can take the swabs to the lab to start processing them.”
“You rescued some evidence?”
“Yes. From the bloody handprints. So it’s important I get there sooner rather than later, and I don’t want to inconvenience you any further.” She gestured toward the door, meaning it with all sincerity when she said, “You have obligations.”
Nick was already shaking his head. “Nurse Taylor said because of that concussion you weren’t to get behind the wheel of a car for twenty-four hours. I’ll take you to the lab. Then I’ll drive you home and pick you up for work tomorrow morning.”
“It’s out of your way. I’ll just call a cab.”
“Out of my way? You don’t even know where I live.”
“Do you know where I live?” Why wouldn’t he go away and leave her alone until she could get her head on straight? This stupid bump and stitches were messing with the logic that normally got her through her dealings with Nick. “It could take a while to run the tests. You’ve got all your family here, including the deputy commissioner. KCPD is already short-staffed. It’s a holiday—”
“Did George say something to scare you? Threaten you with some kind of reprimand?” Hunching down, Nick’s gaze drilled into hers. “He throws his weight around sometimes, but I’ll straighten him out if he upset you.”
“You don’t ‘straighten out’ the deputy commissioner, even if he is a relative.” Annie threw up her hands, desperate to have Nick understand just how uncomfortable this change in his behavior made her feel. She liked knowing where she stood with people—what they expected of her—what she could expect from them. Who was her friend? Who was her enemy? Who could she count on, and who was going to walk away when she needed him most? She could cope with independence and being alone. But she wasn’t going to make a friend, or make something more, and then be crushed again. And she certainly wasn’t about to put her trust in someone as confusing and unpredictable as Nick Fensom. “I’m tired and I want to go home, but I have work I need to get done first and I need my car to do that. If you really want to help, just do what I ask. If not, leave me alone so I can take care of what needs to be done myself.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here. I...” Just as another argument started, Nick pulled back. His chest, already far too broad and way too close, expanded with a deep breath. And then, before the instinct to put some space between them fully registered, he reached out to brush a curl away from the bandage on her forehead. A tiny shock of electricity sparked from his skin to hers at the unexpected caress and Annie’s determination to get away short-circuited. “It’s my fault you got hurt, so let me do this, okay?” His voice had dropped to a husky, mesmerizing pitch. “Let me play chauffeur for a day or two to make amends.”
Her eyes locked onto Nick’s as he studied the delicate movement of his fingertip, curling into a tendril of hair and pulling it gently away from her temple to tuck it behind her ear. He snickered when the tendril kinked back out of place and he determinedly repeated the effort.
He was touching her. Again. Ever so tenderly and...she liked it. Any
urge to argue, to escape, vanished. She was back in that alley, with him rubbing her fingers and sheltering her from the cold wind, and her thinking just how masculine and protective and interesting the most incomprehensible man on the planet had suddenly become.
“It’s nobody’s fault...except for that...faceless creep with the big hands.” Oh, great. Was that her voice stuttering through a whispered reassurance? “Mac and your uncle both planted the idea in my head that he could have been the rapist himself.”
“Do you think it was that Rose Red bastard?”
He traced his fingertip around the shell of her ear, and a riot of goose bumps blossomed on the surface of her skin. Annie felt herself leaning into the caress. “I don’t know. Even if we can get DNA or a blood type from the samples, there’s nothing on file to compare them to. But maybe there’s an accomplice we can identify. If those fake cops are the ones cleaning up after the rapist, then—”
“—we could bring them in and get them to turn on whoever hired them.”
“We need to get something on this guy. Anything I can salvage from the crime scene helps, right?”
It was one reason the task force had been formed—after more than a dozen suspected rapes in almost as many years, the Rose Red Rapist had yet to leave any trace that could help identify him beyond the token rose he left with his victims. And the women he attacked from behind with a blow to the head could only describe a mask and a voice and the smell of the cleaning solutions he washed them with afterward. Nick understood how important even the smallest piece of evidence could be. “All the more reason I should have been there to protect you.”
“If their goal was to retrieve something the rapist left behind, chances are they would have come back whether you were with me or not.”
“Nobody comes after me. If I was there, you’d have been safe. We’d finally have something we could work with on this case.”