by Julie Miller
And what would he have done if Hope’s high-society buddies hadn’t been there to greet her when the elevator doors opened? Tunneled his fingers deeper into that glorious hair? Eliminated the distance between them? Kissed her?
Maybe his instinctive dislike for Adam Matuszak had a more personal, less noble foundation. Maybe what galled Pike was that he’d made a concerted effort these past few months to earn Hope’s trust and become a friend, and—with or without Hans at his side—she’d repeatedly blown him off. Meanwhile, she aligned herself with those two suit-and-tie movers and shakers of Kansas City society who’d answered her call in the middle of the night.
Sounded a little like wounded male pride.
That was an unsettling thought, too.
“Either he’s getting sloppy or she’s learning to enjoy the game, too.” Spencer Montgomery’s stern voice dragged Pike’s attention back to the opposite end of the table where the senior detective ran the task force meeting.
Spencer’s partner, Nick Fensom, sat immediately to his left. He tossed the pen he’d been rolling between his fingers onto the table and leaned back in his chair. “So they get more violent and we get no closer to solving this damn case.”
“That’s not entirely true, Nick.” Dr. Kate Kilpatrick, the police psychologist and profiling expert who was a member of the team, was ever the voice of cool, calm reason. She patted the thick case folder sitting in front of her. “We’re building an extremely strong case against our unsub, with a variety of evidentiary support. We have his DNA and a surviving witness who can identify him by voice and scent, as well as describe the site where the rapes occur—a building undergoing renovations or construction.”
“Doesn’t do us any good if we can’t catch the perp and put him on trial,” Nick argued.
Annie Hermann curled one leg beneath her and sat, trying to calm the fiancé she sat across from. “We know exactly the kind of man we’re looking for now.”
Dr. Kilpatrick tucked her short silvery-blond hair behind her ears, concurring with Annie’s facts. “He’s most likely OCD—suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder. The surgical mask Miss Lockhart mentioned fits our profile. He has specific routines. He needs things to be spotlessly clean and orderly. And even though he functions normally in society, he has issues with successful, goal-oriented women. He’s been emotionally traumatized by a woman with power over him—a mother, a lover, a boss.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” Nick voiced his opinions and emotions more loudly than anyone, but Pike had to admit he was feeling the same frustration.
Maggie Wheeler-Murdock, the red-haired officer who was typing notes onto her laptop, and who had a special affinity for talking to the victims of these brutal crimes, looked up from her computer screen. She directed her question to the police psychologist. “Is it possible the shorter time frame between attacks is because the Cleaner has turned the rapes into murders? She’s stealing the spotlight from him?”
Dr. Kilpatrick nodded. “That could be the very relationship he’s acting out on by going after these women. She’s interfered with his routine. And he no longer sees himself as the most dangerous thing out there on the streets.”
Pike finally had something to add. “There’s danger enough.” He felt all eyes at the table turn to him. “When Hans and I are out there walking our beat, you can see the fear on women’s faces. It’s in the way they walk and carry themselves. A lot of the businesses in that neighborhood are run or staffed by women. Now some of those businesses are closing because of the fear our unsubs have created. Trust me, I’m less worried about the economic impact than I am about what this guy is doing to the confidence of this city.” He braced his elbows on the table and leaned toward the rest of the group. “We need to do something now. Go on the offensive. There are too many dead bodies—too many ruined lives—left in this guy’s wake.”
“Pike’s right.” Detective Montgomery surveyed the members of his team, sitting around the table. “We need to set up a sting that will draw this guy out.”
“We need bait for a sting,” Nick pointed out. “We don’t have the manpower to track every potential victim he might go after.”
Dr. Kate added another bit of reasoning. “It needs to be a woman our unsub sees as a specific threat to him.”
Spencer shook his head. “We’ve only got two surviving witnesses who can implicate him. One of them is in a mental hospital. And the victim Dr. Kate mentioned—Bailey Austin—we can’t count on her. Her assault was too recent. She’s too fragile to put into a possible face-off with her attacker unless he’s behind the glass in a lineup room.”
“It doesn’t have to be a previous victim, does it?” Maggie suggested. “Can’t we put a female officer undercover in that neighborhood who fits his ideal victim? Make her an irresistible target to draw him out?”
“It can’t be you.” Dr. Kate smiled and nodded toward the baby bump that was already starting to show following Maggie’s summer wedding to a U.S. Marine who’d lived in her apartment building.
Nick Fensom’s gaze locked on to the dark-haired CSI sitting across from him. “The Cleaner has seen Annie at crime scenes. We have to assume she’s shared that information with our unsub. He won’t go after one of us.”
Kate Kilpatrick agreed. “None of us can assume the role we need. As the task force liaison to the press, I have my face all over the media. He knows I’m with KCPD, too.”
Pike flattened his palms on top of the table. The team’s undercover-cop idea wasn’t going to fly. “This guy lives or works in that neighborhood. He knows every woman there. He’d avoid a stranger, unless we’re talking about embedding someone there for several months.”
Detective Montgomery shook his head. “We can’t wait that long. He’ll have gone after someone else by then. We need to recruit a volunteer from the community—offer her police protection, of course.”
Nick Fensom snapped his fingers. “We’ve got Pike’s girlfriend who gave us the info about the surgical mask and a detailed description of what we believe is his van.”
What? Whoa. Pike raised his hands and backed his chair away from the table. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Nick swiveled in his chair, his teasing grin looking an awful lot like his brother Alex’s yesterday morning. “Then why did you hang out at the precinct for six hours after your shift was over yesterday?”
“Hope was my responsibility. I was the first man on the scene after she called Dispatch. I drove her in to HQ. I wanted to see the incident through to the end.” Yeah. That was it. He’d stayed out of concern...because he’d be worried about anybody from that neighborhood on his watch. Right?
Clearly thinking through their options, Detective Montgomery adjusted his dark silk tie. “Brian Elliott offered to put her up in his lake house down in Branson, but she refused. She told me she wanted to stay in the city and help in any way she could.”
“There you have it.” Nick turned back to his partner. “Our bait.”
Pike remembered the prison record he’d read. Henry Lockhart’s home address had been in a small town close to Branson. Maybe that part of the state dredged up too many unpleasant memories for Hope. That was probably why she’d refused Elliott’s offer.
“I’m sure she was talking about testifying in court,” Pike countered. “Not...what you’re suggesting.”
“She’s a successful woman,” Montgomery argued. “Runs her own business. She’s been a resident in the Rose Red Rapist’s target neighborhood for a couple of years now. Hell, the press gave our unsub that nickname because of her shop.”
These people weren’t listening. Hope Lockhart as an undercover lure? Not that she couldn’t attract a man’s attention—if she loosened a few buttons on her blouse, let down her hair and actually talked to a guy. But that wasn’t going to happen. He’d been trying to interact with the woman for months now, and except for those brief seconds on the elevator, all he’d gotten were some curt hellos and a knife pulled on him. “How are
you going to get a man on the scene to protect her without making our unsub suspicious? If you look up spinster in the dictionary, Hope Lockhart’s picture is right there next to it.” He knew those weren’t the kindest words, but facts were facts. “You can’t suddenly throw a cop into her life and have anybody believe it isn’t a sting operation.”
Dr. Kate moved her hand to the tabletop next to where Pike’s hand rested. “Your emotions are more than a little elevated when you speak of Miss Lockhart. Do you have a relationship with her?”
“With Hope?” His protest was sharp enough for Hans to raise his head.
The psychologist nodded. “If there’s already a connection between you, we could capitalize on that.”
Oh, yeah. He never should have touched Hope in that elevator. “I’m not in a relationship with anybody. And trust me, if you’re going to recruit her, then you need to send someone else to keep an eye on her.”
Spencer Montgomery stood at the opposite end of the room, buttoning his suit jacket, looking as though he was about to wrap up this meeting. “Why? Can’t you handle some personal protection work?”
“Of course.” The dog rested his muzzle on Pike’s knee, giving him a look that seemed to question just where this conversation was taking them. “Hans and I can guard a place or a person better than any team of men. But Hope...she’s afraid of me—of us.” He reached down to rub Hans’s head. “And I don’t work without my partner.”
Dr. Kate was sizing him up as though he were a patient of hers. “Do you want me to talk to her? You know, helping her through these fears is a very legitimate way to deepen your bond with her.”
“I don’t have a bond.”
“But you do know her,” Detective Montgomery clarified. “You’ve had conversations?”
“Sort of.”
“You’ve been seen with her?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Anybody else here know Hope Lockhart better than Pike?”
Maggie gave him a sympathetic look over her laptop. “She planned my wedding to John, but I’ve got desk duty until the baby comes.”
Annie Hermann stuffed her files into her bag. “Sorry. Never met her.”
“Saturday night’s interview was the first time we’ve spoken.” Nick Fensom tucked his pen into the pocket of his leather jacket.
“It’s settled, then.” Detective Montgomery closed his notebook and zipped it shut. “Make her like you.”
“Excuse me?” Pike stood and Hans fell into place beside him.
“You need to become her boyfriend. I can’t think of a more plausible way to work a bodyguard into her life.”
“She’ll never go for that.”
“She’ll have to if she wants our protection.” Detective Montgomery circled the table, indicating a decision had been made. “Kate, you and I can have a discussion with Miss Lockhart this afternoon. We’ll make it clear that we need her help to make that neighborhood—this city—safe again.”
“Wait a minute.” Pike strode around the table to catch Montgomery at the door. “You want me to...date...Hope Lockhart?”
The red-haired detective’s cool gray eyes weren’t joking. “I want you to move in with her. Pretend you’re having an affair. Or better yet, she runs a bridal shop. Pretend you’re her fiancé and you’re planning your wedding.”
“Detective—”
“We’ll provide whatever backup you need—keep eyes on her when you can’t. But you and Hans are going to be our front men. We can leak that we’ve got a description of our suspect—drop some subtle clues that lead back to her. We at least have to ask if she’s willing to do it.”
“You’re going to put a civilian in that kind of danger?”
The detective’s assessing look included Hans. “She’ll have the best protection KCPD can provide.”
“Sir, I’ve never worked undercover.”
“You just have to do your job. Be there if and when our perp comes after her. You’ll still be a cop. You’ll just be a cop who’s in a relationship.” Pike had a sinking feeling there was no argument left to be made. Hope was their best shot at luring the Rose Red Rapist into the task force’s trap. And nobody else here could make the sting setup work. But what a setup. “Make our unsubs believe that Hope Lockhart is your bride-to-be.”
* * *
PIKE WATCHED SPENCER Montgomery and Kate Kilpatrick pull out of the parking lot at Fairy Tale Bridal to merge with the beginnings of rush-hour traffic, leaving him standing on the sidewalk out front. He looked down at the alert dog sitting beside him. “I guess we’re really going through with this, Hans.”
Hans tilted his long black muzzle up into Pike’s hand, promising his silent support. Whatever his master had to do, they would do it together. Even if it meant taking on a role neither of them had trained for—pretending Hope Lockhart was their happily-ever-after.
Pike looked up and down the street, wondering if any of the people walking to their cars, heading into shops, peeking out of office windows or warming up with a coffee amongst the autumnal reds and golds of the young trees that decorated the rooftop garden of the cafe on the corner had any suspicion of the trap KCPD was laying for the Rose Red Rapist. Was one of them their man, watching him even now and evaluating his appearance at Fairy Tale Bridal? He was the neighborhood cop, right? Would their unsub buy that he and Hope were an item? Would he believe that all those brief encounters with her these past twelve months had led to a marriage proposal and that the extra security on the premises had to do with love and not catching a criminal? There was only one way to find out.
“Fuss.” At the German command to heel, Hans jumped to his feet and fell into step beside Pike as he turned back into the parking lot. “Let’s do it.”
After holding the door for a group of young women who were all chattering at once about the best color for a bridesmaid dress, Pike led Hans into the vestibule of Hope’s shop. He paused a minute to inspect the splintered wood around the lock he’d busted to get up to Hope’s apartment late Saturday night. The door swung open with barely a push, making him glad she still had the outside entrance and her apartment door upstairs she could lock for security. But he also made a mental note to pick up some wood from the lumberyard to reinforce the lock until he could get the antique door replaced and a new dead bolt installed.
Inhaling a fortifying breath and reminding himself how important this assignment was to KCPD and all of Kansas City, Pike pushed open the door to Hope’s shop.
“...Ms. Carter, er, Mrs. Lonergan now, let me off an hour early to come fix your door.” A short, wiry man wearing a green uniform shirt and jeans was talking with Hope across the counter at the center of the shop. Pike recognized him as an employee from the florist’s shop across the street. The two businesses often handled events together, but this didn’t look like a work-related discussion to him. “She worries about you, you know.”
The bell ringing above his head announced Pike’s arrival, but it was Hans’s loping gate beside him that diverted Hope’s attention from the conversation and made her cheeks go pale. She might as well get used to having them both around. She’d agreed to this charade, and that included the German shepherd as part of her bodyguard contingency. He sure hoped Dr. Kilpatrick was right, and that helping Hope deal with her fear of dogs was the best way to earn her trust.
Pike pulled off his KCPD cap and stuffed it into his hip pocket as the dark-haired man clicked his tongue against his teeth to startle Hope’s attention back to him. “As I was saying, I’ve got tools and some wood across the street at Mrs. Lonergan’s shop. You know I can be pretty handy. Bet I have it all repaired before you close.”
“Thank you, Leon.” Was that a smile for the other man? When she hadn’t even said hi to him? How were they ever going to pull this off?
Leon leaned a little closer over the tall edge of the counter. “If I come back tomorrow for another couple of hours, I’ll have it looking as good as new. I promise.”
Hope fiddled with th
e belt of the navy blue dress that covered her from neck to knee and sidled to the far end of the counter as Pike and Hans approached. “You’re too good to me, Leon. How much do you think it will cost? You still haven’t given me a bill for that windowpane you replaced a couple of weeks ago.”
“I won’t take your money, Hope.”
“Technically, you work for Robin, not me. At least let me pay for the materials.”
“No, ma’am.” The man slid an annoyed glance toward Pike and Hans, dismissing them as an ill-timed official visit, no doubt, before circling around the end of the counter to block Hope’s escape—moving from friendly acquaintance to personal-space invader. “But maybe you’ll let me take you to dinner tonight?”
“I thought you had dinner with your mother on Mondays,” was Hope’s gentle reply.
The guy’s fingers tiptoed across the counter toward her hand. “I’ll make it up to her. She’s subbing in a bridge game tonight, anyway. I’m a free man.”
Really? Was this guy hittin’ on her? Had Pike completely misread her unattached status? Whatever it was, Pike had to nip the potential relationship in the bud. He walked up behind Hope, crossing behind the cash register and computer as though he had the right to do so. “She’s got plans. Right, hon?”
Hope flinched at his touch when he flattened his hand at the small of her back. Or maybe it was the dog standing so close that made her visibly shiver. Either way, she wasn’t helping establish any kind of cover. “Hans, sit.” While the dog plopped down on his haunches, Pike extended a hand around Hope to introduce himself. “I’m Pike Taylor.”
“I know you, Officer. Leon Hundley.” The twentysomething man shook Pike’s hand, but looked as befuddled by his presence in the shop as Hope did. He thumbed over his shoulder at the big display windows that faced the front sidewalk. “I work at Robin’s Nest Floral across the street. I help Miss Lockhart out with odd jobs whenever I can. I’m trying to make some extra cash to restore my car.”