KCPD Protector (14 page)

The worries that did creep in when her mind wandered could easily derail the normal routine she was clinging to this morning. She had an armed detective named Spencer Montgomery dog sitting Spike and watching her house for her. She’d fielded a call from Annie Fensom at the crime lab which hadn’t offered much hope. They could approximate a shoe size on her stalker from the picture Nick had taken in her backyard. But unless they could compel every man in Kansas City with size twelve feet to give a DNA sample, there was still no way to identify the man who’d sent her those sick I-love-you messages.

The weather outside seemed to echo Elise’s mood today. For a few wonderful minutes, she’d been happy and content in George’s arms and the sun had been shining. But as the storm gathered force and the skies darkened at noon, her thoughts kept going back to all the reasons why she and George Madigan might never have more than this morning. First, there was the difference in their ages. She didn’t think fourteen years was an issue, but it seemed to bother him. Then there was his position of authority over her. Her need to do the work she was so good at in order to prove her self-worth and redeem her past mistakes. Her scary track record with choosing the wrong men.

And if any of those obstacles weren’t enough, she came with the extra baggage of a mysterious psychopath who said he loved her, but promised violence if she did anything he deemed a mistake.

Like making love with George and silently giving him her heart?

Those were probably two pretty unforgivable mistakes in the eyes of the man who would harm an innocent dog and terrorize a frightened woman.

The thunder shook and a new, terrifying thought turned Elise’s gaze toward George’s office door.

I don’t want to hurt you or the things you love.

Would he hurt George? With every contact, the creep found new and more devious ways to terrorize her. He’d nearly broken her completely by making her think he’d attacked Spike. If he went after George or her parents or anyone else she cared about, she might never recover from the emotional destruction. How could she fight an enemy who preyed on her mind and emotions and refused to reveal his identity?

Lightning flashed in the bank of clouds overhead and thunder rattled the windows and furniture almost immediately. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood straight on end. Whatever new threat was coming was nearly on top of them.

The telephone rang and Elise let out a tiny yelp. Cursing her own skittishness, she inhaled a steadying breath and picked up the receiver. “Good morning, Deputy Commissioner Madigan’s office. This is Elise.”

“Good morning, Elise. Garrett Cho here.”

“Deputy Commissioner Cho. How are you?” She eyed the greenish tinge of the squall line moving beneath the charcoal-gray cumulus clouds. “Hope you’re battened down someplace safe. Looks like we’re going to have a gully washer.”

“At least. I don’t think an umbrella will do us any good today.” The deputy commissioner in charge of facilities management was always a friendly conversation. She smiled through the next thunderclap despite the tingling at her nape. Something about working in a high-rise building, that much closer to the root of a storm, always made it seem more intense. “I understand we’re in for a temporary shuffle in command over the next few days. Commissioner Cartwright-Masterson’s a grandmother?”

“Yes, sir. Deputy Commissioner Madigan is on the phone with her right now, going over the final details. She’s taking a full week off to help her son and daughter-in-law adjust to being new parents.”

Cho laughed. “We can run the department while she’s gone. I’m not worried about that. And you can assure George that all of our precinct storm shelters are fully supplied and ready for whatever hits us today. But I’m more interested in the baby details. We had a pool going, you know.”

Elise grinned as the second light on her phone went off. George’s conversation with Commissioner Cartwright-Masterson had ended. She could transfer this call to him, but she knew he had plenty on his agenda already and decided to handle this social call herself. “Sydney Cartwright weighed in at seven pounds, fourteen ounces, and she arrived at 7:15 a.m. How’d you do?”

“Well, since I’d put my money on a baby boy—not very well. But as long as the mother and baby are fine, I shouldn’t complain about losing five bucks.” She could hear the teasing in Cho’s voice. “Unless George won the pot. Then I’m complaining.”

“I couldn’t tell you that, sir. But I’ll let him know you’re thinking of him.” A rock slammed into her high-rise window and she nearly jumped out of her chair. “What the...?”

Not a rock at all. A chunk of frozen rain. Dozens of hard, icy pellets hitting the windows. Hail.

“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.”