The Marine Next Door (20 page)

“Me?”

“Now you’re just scaring her.” Brian Elliott was back on his feet. He slipped an arm around Hope’s shoulders. His protective paternal look included Maggie as well as the detectives. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Spencer pointed to the small cameras placed inside both the front door and the side entrance to the parking lot. “I don’t suppose you have security cameras installed
outside
your building and this shop where we might have captured a picture of the man following Miss Austin?”

Brian Elliott never took his eyes off the detective who’d challenged him. He merely tightened his arm around Hope’s shoulders and pointed to his assistant. “Reggie, make a note to get exterior cameras installed tomorrow. I want Hope to feel safe here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spencer Montgomery had heard enough. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to Hope. “Miss Lockhart, thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, or you see any other suspicious activity in the neighborhood, please give me a call.”

She squeezed the card in her hand. “I will.”

Nick was already opening the front door as Spencer acknowledged the others in the shop. “Mr. Elliott. Ma’am. Have a good meeting.”

On her way out the door, Maggie’s phone vibrated on her belt. When she saw Annie Hermann’s number, she apologized for delaying the two detectives. “I need to take this. It’s the crime lab—about that break-in I had at my place.”

“Go ahead.” Nick waited for a young professional couple bending over the same smartphone to pass by on the sidewalk before pulling back the front of his leather jacket and stretching his shoulders and neck. “I want to do some checking around the outside of this place, see what kind of vantage point our guy had to have if he spotted his vic in the parking lot.”

Detective Montgomery was less affable. “Are you kidding me?” But Maggie saw that his irritation was directed at the dark-haired reporter lounging outside his SUV across the street. Gabriel Knight nodded to the two young women carrying their cups of coffee into the nearby office building before pulling off his sunglasses and turning toward the three of them. “What do you suppose he wants?”

“Besides the scoop on breaking our case?” Nick teased. “Or taking another potshot at us in the morning edition?”

Spencer waved Nick off before checking pedestrians and traffic and stepping into the street. “You two take care of your business. I want to make sure Knight doesn’t hassle Miss Lockhart—or any other witnesses around here we need to talk to.”

Hanging back on the sidewalk while the two men went to work, Maggie answered her phone. “Hey, Annie, sorry about that. We were finishing up at the bridal shop. Did you find anything on Danny?”

Annie’s sigh gave Maggie the answer she didn’t want to hear. “Sorry. The only prints we found in your storage locker were yours and Joe Standage’s.”

Maggie released a frustrated breath of her own. “Joe helped me move stuff down there this winter. What about outside the locker or on the news clippings themselves?”

“Nothing. I went over everything myself. Your guy was wearing gloves. Forensically, we can’t prove it was Danny Wheeler who broke in there.”

The man was smart, which only made him more dangerous. “Okay, thanks.”

“No problem. Hey, we’re on the same team, right? Anything I can help you with, you let me know.”

“Same here. Thanks.”

After putting away her phone, Maggie looked up and down the street, wondering how these busy blocks had looked at night to Bailey Austin, when the shops and offices had closed. It looked like a nice enough neighborhood on the surface—maybe not as cosmopolitan as it had been in its original heyday. But it was no longer the run-down, homeless crime lane it had once been either. Much of the historical architecture had been restored. There were new businesses going in, thriving shops, a café, apartment living on the upper floors.

Just how truly alone had Bailey Austin been that she jumped out as a target to the Rose Red Rapist? It was hard to picture it now, with the clear blue afternoon sunlight, and the bustle of activity on the streets and sidewalks.

Had someone been inside one of those doors or windows who might have seen something? A custodian cleaning an office perhaps? Or someone else who lived above his or her business like Hope Lockhart did? There were several night spots within a couple of blocks in either direction. Had there been no overflow parking on this street? No couple strolling hand in hand on a date?

What made Bailey Austin the rapist’s target? There were so many women here who fit the same general description.

A camera flash of understanding went off in her head. Maggie’s gaze shrank from the big picture she’d been contemplating down to the individual faces of each woman on the street.

“Nick?” She spun around, looking for the burly detective. “Nick!” She jogged down to the entrance to the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop parking lot to catch him before he disappeared around the corner. “I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed to the people in their cars and walking past on the street. “Look at the women here. They’re all professionals.” Some were younger, perhaps newly out of college and chasing after a new career. Others were older, well-established by the look of their BMW or designer bags. They had different ethnicities and looks, but they were all a certain type. “Detective Montgomery talked about Rose Red having a hunting ground. All the victims have been career women. They’ve all had money and class, or were well on their way to having both.”

Nick nodded, seeming to find merit in her assessment. “Women with self-confidence, authority. Women who are going places.”

“Upset or not, he picked up Bailey Austin here because she was the right type of woman.”

“And he knew he could find that type in this neighborhood.”

A little rush of excitement buzzed through Maggie’s blood. They were onto something here. At least they might be able to narrow down their search area for where the serial rapist might strike next. “That’s why our guy has gone after blondes and brunettes and different racial types. It’s not a look he’s targeting, like most serial rapists. He has a thing for women who have power. Strong women. He didn’t go after Bailey Austin because she was upset and vulnerable. He went after her because she was strong enough to stand up for herself against her fiancé and mother. In public.”

“I’m telling Spence to get his butt back over here. You okay to get back to the station on your own? He can drive me in his car.” She nodded as he pulled out his phone to text a message. After hitting Send he held out his arm to give her a congratulatory fist bump. “Good profiling, Wheeler. How come you never made detective before?”

“I didn’t have the college degree.”

“What took you so long to get it?”

She held up her wrist and pointed to the time. “Because I have a ten-year-old who’s playing a baseball game in an hour. I’ve been kind of busy raising him.”

“He any good?”

“He will be. Apparently he has a good eye for catching pop flies. Now if we can just get him to step into the pitch when he swings the bat.”

“Sounds like my kind of evening.” He groaned as if he knew he’d be spending his evening doing something much less enjoyable. “Get out of here and enjoy the game. I’ll mention what you said to Spence.”

“Thanks.” She headed for her truck down the street.

“And Wheeler?”

“Yes?”

Nick Fensom grinned. “File the promotion paperwork. You’ll make a damn fine detective.”

A damn fine detective.

Nick’s praise and her own sense of success buoyed her spirits in a way she hadn’t felt for weeks now. Her life wasn’t perfect, but things were definitely heading in the right direction. Both personally and professionally, she’d made some choices that just might pay off if she kept working hard at them.

She was waiting in traffic at the intersection where Bailey Austin had been attacked, looking forward to Travis’s game and seeing John and getting a good report with Chief Taylor, when the light changed and her mood sank like a popped balloon.

Parked at the corner was a white van, with a bug and rat and Boyle’s Extermination logo painted on the side. And behind the steering wheel sat Danny Wheeler.

Watching her.

* * *

J
OHN PATTED
T
RAVIS’S
left leg. “This one here.” He covered the boy’s hands with his own around the handle of the bat and swung it with him. “Go forward. Don’t step out. You’re losing the amount of space over the plate that your bat can cover, so you have less chance of hitting anything. And remember, keep your eye on the ball all the way to the bat, or to the catcher’s mitt if you decide to take the pitch.”

“Keep my eye on the ball. Right.” Travis nodded. The boy stooped down to smear his hands in the dirt, spit on them and rub them together. He knocked twice on his helmet before gripping the bat and aligning his stance the way John had shown him. “Like this?”

John grinned at the theatrics as he stood back and watched Travis take a couple of swings on his own. It felt like forever since he’d been that young and eager to imitate the big leaguers he’d watched on TV and at Kaufmann Stadium. “With a little less fanfare that’s it. You’ll get more power moving into the ball like that, too.”

“How’s that swing coming?” John looked up to see the copper-haired police officer walking toward them with a sports drink and bag of sunflower seeds in her hands.

“Hi, Mom.” Travis ran over to the fence to pick up his game supplies and accept a casual, just-an-arm-around-the-shoulder hug from Maggie. “I’m gonna get a hit tonight. John showed me how.”

“Fantastic.”

A shout from Coach Hernandez summoned all the boys to end their warm-ups and join him in the dugout.

“Thanks, Mom!”

“Have a great game. Do your best.” Maggie cheered him as he ran across the diamond.

John scooped up a couple of practice balls on his way to the fence. Now that Travis was gone and the field lights were coming on, a glance at Maggie’s pale skin and the time on his watch made him suspicious of the smile on her face. “You’re late. Everything okay?”

She followed him down to the gate on her side of the fence. “There are four games going on here tonight. I had to park clear at the far end of the lot and walk a quarter of a mile.”

“Hey, Mom!” They both turned at Travis’s shout. “Don’t yell my name, okay?”

“Okay.” Maggie flashed her son a thumbs-up. “Go get ’em.” Her eyes were on the concrete path before them when he joined her at the base of the bleachers. “Thanks for getting him to the game.”

“We got some practice in.” She still hadn’t made eye contact with him. Instead, she was eyeing the parents and grandparents in the stands, and looking beyond them to the people lined up at the concession stand and still milling in the parking lot. He had to concentrate for a moment on where he was placing his false foot as they climbed the open stands, but he didn’t have a good feeling about this. “Sarge, what is it?”

She slid between two rows of metal seats and sat. “How about here? Are we too far up?”

Uh-uh, she wasn’t getting off that easily. He sat down beside her. “I’ve had warmer greetings from enemy troops. What’s wrong?”

He silently dared her to say
nothing
and take them several steps backward in this tentative relationship. But there was a reason he admired her courage. Her darting gaze finally landed on him. “I saw Danny this afternoon.”

“But his restraining order—”

“He was far enough away that I couldn’t cite him for anything. But he was close enough that he could watch me. We were out around the city, conducting interviews. I don’t know how long he was following me.” John’s blood heated with protective anger and he, too, started scanning the perimeter of the ball fields and park, searching for the enemy. “I took the scenic route to get here, and lost him. But he already knows where Danny plays, so he could show up again.”

“You want to go home?”

Her cheeks flooded with a healthier color. “I’m not taking Travis away from his game.”

“Good. I’d rather see you ticked off than afraid. Danny Wheeler doesn’t get to control your life. Not anymore.” For John, it was a personal vow. That bastard was never going to hurt Maggie or rob her of that genuine smile again. Not on his watch. And he wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. “Let’s sit here and enjoy the game,” he suggested. “And Danny can just hide in the dark and miss out on what really matters in life.”

“Family and friends?”

John turned toward the field. “Baseball.”

She laughed out loud, as he’d hoped. But she surprised him by capturing his jaw and pulling him closer to press a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

It was brave and spontaneous and perfect.

He smiled and leaned in farther to kiss her squarely on that beautiful mouth. “I like that even better than being ticked off.”

Yeah, that was the smile he wanted to see. And he had no problem when Maggie laced her fingers together with his and leaned her shoulder against him. John held on tight, enjoying the game, Travis and the woman who was becoming more and more vital to him with every passing second.

He’d come a long way from that roadside bomb in Afghanistan. Maybe, just maybe, this was what finally coming home was supposed to feel like.

And no coward watching from the darkness was going to steal it away from him.

* * *

“
T
HAT WAS MY FIRST DOUBLE.”

John lined up the darkened park entrance in the beam of his headlights and turned into the empty parking lot as the victory celebration that had been going on since he offered to take Travis and Maggie out for ice cream after the game continued. “I think we’ve pretty much figured out that if we can get you on base, buddy, you’re a fast runner. Is that the first time you’ve scored a run this year?”

“Yep.” He heard a crunch from the backseat of his truck. “Dat’s da foost time I ’tole a base, too.”

Maggie turned in the passenger seat to lay down the mom law. “Not even ice cream stops your chatter. Now you finish that cone before it melts all over John’s truck. Leaving a mess isn’t a very nice way to thank him.”