“Will he still be out on bail?”
“Did the witness identify him as the Rose Red Rapist?”
“Who is the witness?”
Bailey clutched her stomach as a wave of nausea churned inside her. They were closing in like vultures. “Oh, my.”
Dwight Powers braced his hand beneath her elbow. “Mitch,” he warned.
“I’m on it.” With a curt nod, Mitch stepped into the hallway. With a booming voice that made Bailey tremble, he took charge of the surging crowd. “This is a police station, not gossip central. Kate Kilpatrick, our task force liaison to the press, will answer your questions downstairs.”
“Is that Brian Elliot?” a woman asked. “Could we talk to him?”
“My client is being released on bail, and we’ll be making a formal statement later,” Kenna promised.
“Joe! Sarge!” Bailey ducked behind the D.A.’s broad back as Chief Taylor called for backup. “Get them out of here. I’m not putting on a press conference for that scum. The reporters can talk to Elliott outside, once we get his ankle bracelet back on him.”
“Yes, sir.” A dutiful voice from the hallway hastened to do his chief’s bidding. “Ms. Owen. Mr. Knight. This way, people. I’ll escort you down to the front door.”
As soon as Chief Taylor closed the door behind him, Bailey’s mother, Loretta Austin-Mayweather, spoke from the back of the room. “I don’t like that woman. Do you think Kenna Parker staged that harangue of reporters to frighten Bailey?”
With the reporters’ protesting voices reduced to a murmur, the D.A. released his grip on Bailey. “It’s a possibility. She’ll use every weapon in her arsenal to prove reasonable doubt to the jury. And since a lot of our case rests on your daughter...”
Bailey’s chin popped up when he turned his eyes on her. Forcing herself to take easy, calming breaths, Bailey nodded. She had to do this. “Don’t worry, Mr. Powers. You can count on me.”
Loretta glanced up at the distinguished gentleman standing beside her. Her beautiful features were drawn with worry and fatigue. “Jackson, isn’t there something you can do about Ms. Parker to protect Bailey? I’ve already lost Kyle. I don’t think I could stand to see another child get hurt.”
Too late for that, Bailey thought as a less-than-kind impulse bubbled up. But her sarcasm quickly turned to sympathy. They’d all been devastated by Kyle’s death, her mother to the point that when Bailey had needed her most, Loretta had been incapable of empathizing with her daughter’s pain. Her mother had lost weight from the stress and turned to a nightly glass or two of wine in order to sleep. For months now, Loretta had deflected any conversation more serious than the weather or the family’s social calendar.
They all had their ways of coping. Bailey just hoped her efforts to take charge of her own life and to confront her attacker would lead to her own healing.
“We won’t let that happen,” Harper Pierce assured Loretta. “Will we.” Bailey had to look away from the solicitous expression on the attorney’s handsome face.
He used to look at her that way—before the assault, when they’d been engaged to be married—when she’d been able to tolerate a flirtatious wink or intimate touch, when she would have been satisfied to become his trophy wife and take her place at his side in Kansas City society. Once, that look would have bolstered her courage. Now, that sly wink was just something else she had to deal with.
“You can’t talk me out of this, Harper,” Bailey stated firmly. She was no longer the wide-eyed Pollyanna who’d doted on his needs and shared so many interests with him. Understandably, she had to put herself—and now her mother—first. She crossed the room to give her mother a gentle hug, then pulled away, smiling into the blue eyes that matched her own. “But I promise I’ll be as careful as I can, Mother. Mr. Powers has assured my anonymity for as long as possible. And you know my counseling sessions with Dr. Kilpatrick have included lots of advice on ways a woman can keep herself safe. I’ve been listening. I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”
“I wish you hadn’t cut your hair, dear.” Without even acknowledging her daughter’s attempt to reassure her, Loretta reached up to smooth Bailey’s bangs back into the short wisps at her temple. “Those long, blonde waves were so beautiful.”
Yes, but the short haircut was all about being safe, not making the pages of a fashion magazine. Having a man grab her by the hair and sling her to the floor or into the back of a van had a tendency to make a woman want to remove any “handles” that made it easy for an attacker to latch on. “Mother—”
“Jackson?” Loretta clung to her husband’s arm, turning to Bailey’s stepfather for the answers she wanted. “Can’t you make this whole mess go away?”
Bailey’s stepfather wasn’t oblivious to the emotional undercurrents in the room. But his typical response was to try to fix whatever the problem might be. He slid a supportive arm around his wife’s waist. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect this family, dear.” He turned to the D.A. “Do you think Ms. Parker will bring that ugly business with my stepson into the trial?”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Bailey protested. She wasn’t sure when or where her brother had gotten so caught up with greed that his reckless business dealings had made him desperate enough to kidnap and attempt to murder their half sister, Charlotte. But she knew the devious, violent man who’d been arrested, and subsequently murdered in prison, had no resemblance to the brother she’d once loved and admired. A different sort of character ran through her veins. Something smarter. Stronger. She hoped. “What Kyle did has nothing to do with what happened to me.”
But Jackson was looking to the men in the room for a solution, not her. The D.A. understood his concern. “It’s possible she could bring your family history into the courtroom, use it to taint the veracity of Bailey’s testimony. If there’s one liar in the family, why not two? I’d argue irrelevancy, of course.”
“I’m not lying,” Bailey insisted. “And my head wasn’t so scrambled that I’ve forgotten what I heard and saw and went through that night.”
The burly D.A. nodded. “I’m counting on it. The KCPD task force has given me plenty of forensic and circumstantial evidence to make a case. But science and legal jargon can overwhelm a jury. I need you to be the face of all his victims. The jury will sympathize with you and with your eyewitness testimony. They’ll convict him, and the judge will put Elliott away for the rest of his life. Kenna Parker, however, is going to do everything she can to discredit you on the witness stand.”
Chief Taylor, who put together the task force that had finally brought in the Rose Red Rapist, muttered a choice word beneath his breath. “Leave it to Elliott to buy the best. Parker’s already got him out on bail. From what I hear, he got his ex-wife, Mara Boyd-Elliott who runs the Journal, to post it.”
“Sounds like Elliott’s got all kinds of friends we’ll be up against.”
Chief Taylor agreed. “I have somebody watching him around the clock, but he’s running his business and buying Christmas presents, acting like he’s facing traffic court instead of twenty or more years in prison. Kenna’s only been in Kansas City for a year, and she’s already earned a cutthroat reputation by winning cases.” The senior cop pointed a warning finger at the D.A. “My task force worked for more than a year putting this case together and finally bringing him in. It’ll demoralize my team, if not this entire city, if Elliott wins in court. Can you beat her, Dwight?”
“I win cases, too. Against tougher odds than this.” To his credit, Dwight Powers didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by either the reputation of his opposing counsel, pressure from the police department, or the wealth and influence Jackson Mayweather commanded.
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