Yes, he’d brought the Rich Girl Killer murder investigation to their home, and had been obligated to interrogate each and every one of them. And though Bailey’s brother, Kyle Austin, hadn’t ultimately been the murderer Spencer had sought, he had been guilty of other crimes, including embezzlement, stalking his own stepsister and kidnapping. And the real killer, who hadn’t appreciated a copycat using his M.O., had ultimately murdered the Austin heir while he’d been in prison.
Since Spencer had no children—no family at all, to speak of—he supposed he couldn’t truly understand a parent’s loss of a child. He could only play whipping boy and hold back the reminder that without KCPD’s intervention, the entire Mayweather family might have fallen victim to Kyle Austin’s desperate actions and the killer who’d threatened them.
“Detective.” Jackson Mayweather’s acknowledgment was more civil, but clearly the man had a meeting to get to, or an eagerness to defuse his wife’s displeasure, because he looped his arm around Loretta’s shoulder and started down the hallway. “Come along, dear. I’ll have the driver meet us at the front door.”
“Bailey.” Loretta practically clicked her tongue, calling her daughter to join them.
Despite a deep sigh that indicated she was schooling her patience, Bailey simply smiled and turned her head. “Detective Montgomery is the leader of the Rose Red Rapist investigation. He probably needs to discuss something with me.”
Harper Pierce, a tall, blond piece-of-work who’d stonewalled more than one KCPD investigation with his legal acrobatics, placed his hand at the small of Bailey’s back. “Then he can make an appointment. Let’s go.”
Before Spencer could evaluate the way his own body braced at the proprietary touch, Bailey arched her back away from the other man’s hand and sent Pierce on his way. “Would you mind looking after Jackson and Mother? I know she’d appreciate the extra arm to lean on.”
“I’m not leaving you with—”
“Please, Harper. Go.” Her melodic voice lost its sweet tone and her body seemed to hug itself around the orange coat she clutched. So she didn’t like to be touched? Was that an aftereffect of the rape? Or was it that she just didn’t want her ex-fiancé putting his hands on her?
Flashing a suspicious eye toward Spencer, as if he was somehow to blame for the dismissal, Harper relented. “I’ll hold the elevator for you.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Bails—”
“I’ll walk her to her car,” Spencer volunteered, eager to send the others on their way. That’d give him a few minutes of private time with Bailey to have the conversation Chief Taylor wanted him to have with her. Then he could get back to some real work.
“How did you know I drove myself?” Bailey arched a golden eyebrow as she turned her attention back to him.
Spencer dropped his gaze down to the keys dangling from her fist and grinned. Easy deduction. “I am a detective.”
A responding grin eased the strain on her mouth and relaxed some of the tension from her posture. “So you are.” The gentleness returned to her voice as she spoke to her parents and ex-fiancé again. “You all go ahead. I need to get back to my apartment and organize my portfolio for the job interview I have tomorrow, anyway. It’ll save you a stop.”
“Can’t you put that off until another day?” Loretta sounded more irritated than hurt by her daughter’s excuse to leave them. “The Butler-Smythes are coming to dinner tonight, remember? Their son Cameron is just home from his trip to China. You know he was sweet on you back in school, and I thought—”
“I can’t, Mother.” A rosy hue tinted Bailey’s cheeks, indicating the level of impatience or distress she was keeping in check at her mother’s efforts to plan her evening and her life. “I have errands to run before I go home. And I’m still fixing up my apartment. I want to finish painting the trim around the windows tonight.” Spencer would have stopped with a solid no, but Bailey threw in a bit of logic to salvage her mother’s feelings. “Besides, you know I’m not feeling terribly social right now. If you want me to make an appearance at your holiday gala this weekend, I need to save up my social energy to face all those people. Deal?”
Loretta’s dramatic sigh indicated her daughter had finally come up with an excuse she could accept. “I suppose it’s a fair tradeoff. I do want you at the Christmas ball. I can guarantee yeses to every invitation if our guests know you’ll be there.”
Spencer felt himself bristling on Bailey’s behalf. The young woman was gearing up to testify against her rapist—to face the man who’d nearly killed her—across the short distance of a courtroom. And her mother was worried about matchmaking and society fund-raisers?
Although the tension crept back into her posture, Bailey continued to smile when her mother came to give her a hug. “Please give Cam and his parents my regards, but I won’t be there.”
Loretta’s cutting gaze swept over Spencer as she pulled away. Then she brushed Bailey’s bangs off her forehead and straightened the angel pendant hanging around her neck. “Very well then. I’ll call you tomorrow about the Christmas Ball.”
Bailey nodded. “I’ll talk to you then.”
“Call me if you need an escort to the ball.” Bailey stiffened when Harper leaned in to press a kiss to her temple and Spencer felt a protective urge make him stand straighter. And even though she managed a smile before Pierce followed Loretta and Jackson Mayweather down the hallway, it didn’t last.
“I apologize for my family and...” she thumbed over her shoulder “...my attorney.”
“They’re understandably protective of you.”
“Smothering is more like it.” She unfolded the coat she carried and flipped it around her shoulders. “Happy holidays, Detective. I hope you’re well.”
“What?”
Her mouth relaxed with a soft giggle, probably at catching him off guard with the friendly chitchat. “It’s customary when someone issues you a greeting like that for you say something similar in return.”
“Oh. Right.” When she juggled her keys and purse to shrug into her coat, Spencer decided to test his no-touch theory. He pointed, alerting her to his intent before moving behind her to hold her coat. She paused for a moment before thanking him and sliding her arms into the sleeves. After settling the collar up around her neck, he smoothed his hands across her shoulders and patted her arms. It was Pierce’s touch she hadn’t liked. Or maybe being touched without being asked first. She wasn’t skittish with him standing behind her. She hadn’t frozen up. Maybe she was going to make a calmer, more reliable witness than Chief Taylor thought. “Happy holidays, Bailey.”
What the heck? Spencer popped his grip open and stepped back when he realized he was still holding her shoulders, still breathing in the faint citrusy scent of her hair, still feeling her warmth.
And did she just shiver when he pulled away? Was that a soft gasp he heard? She’d liked his touch. Or, at the very least, she hadn’t minded his hands lingering on her.
There were times when possessing his finely honed eye for detail sucked. Think job, Montgomery. Forget the woman. Forget the attraction.
You know what hell that will lead you to.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone more brusque than he’d intended.
“Are you worried I’m going to screw up all your hard work?” Bailey slipped her purse onto her shoulder, inhaling a deep breath before turning to face him. They stood close enough now that she had to tilt her face up to see his. Good grief, her eyes were blue.
A pair of pretty brown eyes, buried