he get in anyone’s face and argue back?
Spencer’s blood was still pumping hard through his veins when he heard a door open in the hallway behind him. He saw the shock register on Bailey’s face and instinctively went on guard against the unseen threat as he spun around.
Two uniformed officers led Brian Elliott out of the nearby interview room. He’d changed into an expensively tailored suit and a smug untouchability that made him look more like a Forbes 500 mogul than the prisoner wearing a pair of handcuffs and ankle-band tracking device he truly was. An entourage of his attorney, Kenna Parker, and Elliott’s ex-wife, Mara Boyd-Elliott, followed behind. One a dark blonde, the other, platinum, both women wore business suits and carried winter coats and attaché cases, looking like they’d all just finished a business meeting instead of a legal debriefing.
Spencer’s arm went out to push Bailey behind him as the group came closer. He felt her fingers curling into the back of his jacket and something inside him shifted, grew wary. When Elliott spotted Spencer, the bastard grinned in recognition. The other man slowed his stride and the soft gasp at Spencer’s back made him reach down to fold his hand around Bailey’s wrist beside him.
“Keep walking, Elliott,” Spencer ordered.
“Now, now, detective. I’ve missed our little chats in the interrogation room” the man taunted. “Arrest any other innocent people lately?”
“Brian.” That was the ex, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret my investment. I’m willing to support you to a point, but antagonizing the police won’t help your case.”
Elliott shrugged off her touch. “You only posted bail so your paper could report on the trial without it looking like a personal vendetta against me.”
Mara eased a calming sigh behind his back. “Unbiased reporting isn’t the only reason. There’s still a place in my heart for you. And I believe in...your innocence.”
Innocence? The newspaper publisher could barely choke out the word. Spencer wondered how the woman could live with herself, putting Elliott out on the street just so she could sell more papers.
Did he need to remind them about blood matching Elliott’s type being found at the scene of one of the assaults? Had they forgotten his DNA matching the child of a woman who claimed to have been raped by the Rose Red Rapist? Did any of them think Elliott could deny kidnapping a woman and being captured by the K-9 cop and his German Shepherd partner on Spencer’s task force?
Spencer could easily imagine the arguments Elliott’s attorney would bring up. The blood sample had been corrupted and could match any number of suspects. The child’s birth mother, who’d never reported being raped, had had a nervous breakdown and been committed to a mental hospital, so her version of events was suspect. The abduction could be pled down to a lesser crime and argued that it was a solo occurrence, not the culmination of a reign of serial terror through the city.
But there was no arguing away the eyewitness testimony of the courageous woman digging her fingers into his shoulder blade right now. Or Spencer’s driving need to protect the truth she represented.
“Get him out of here, Ms. Parker.” Spencer repeated the command to move the handcuffed man.
But when the uniformed guards urged the prisoner forward, Brian Elliott planted his feet and turned. “Wait. Do I know you, miss?”
Bailey released her death grip on Spencer’s jacket and slid her right hand down his arm. At the brush of her chilled skin against his, he turned his palm into hers, lacing their fingers together, offering his protection and support against the man who’d terrorized her a year earlier. When she latched on to him with both hands, Spencer tightened his hold.
Be tough , Bailey, he wanted to say. He could feel her trembling beside him. Be just as strong as you claim to be .
Kenna Parker nudged aside one of
Spencer’s blood was still pumping hard through his veins when he heard a door open in the hallway behind him. He saw the shock register on Bailey’s face and instinctively went on guard against the unseen threat as he spun around.
Two uniformed officers led Brian Elliott out of the nearby interview room. He’d changed into an expensively tailored suit and a smug untouchability that made him look more like a Forbes 500 mogul than the prisoner wearing a pair of handcuffs and ankle-band tracking device he truly was. An entourage of his attorney, Kenna Parker, and Elliott’s ex-wife, Mara Boyd-Elliott, followed behind. One a dark blonde, the other, platinum, both women wore business suits and carried winter coats and attaché cases, looking like they’d all just finished a business meeting instead of a legal debriefing.
Spencer’s arm went out to push Bailey behind him as the group came closer. He felt her fingers curling into the back of his jacket and something inside him shifted, grew wary. When Elliott spotted Spencer, the bastard grinned in recognition. The other man slowed his stride and the soft gasp at Spencer’s back made him reach down to fold his hand around Bailey’s wrist beside him.
“Keep walking, Elliott,” Spencer ordered.
“Now, now, detective. I’ve missed our little chats in the interrogation room” the man taunted. “Arrest any other innocent people lately?”
“Brian.” That was the ex, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret my investment. I’m willing to support you to a point, but antagonizing the police won’t help your case.”
Elliott shrugged off her touch. “You only posted bail so your paper could report on the trial without it looking like a personal vendetta against me.”
Mara eased a calming sigh behind his back. “Unbiased reporting isn’t the only reason. There’s still a place in my heart for you. And I believe in...your innocence.”
Innocence? The newspaper publisher could barely choke out the word. Spencer wondered how the woman could live with herself, putting Elliott out on the street just so she could sell more papers.
Did he need to remind them about blood matching Elliott’s type being found at the scene of one of the assaults? Had they forgotten his DNA matching the child of a woman who claimed to have been raped by the Rose Red Rapist? Did any of them think Elliott could deny kidnapping a woman and being captured by the K-9 cop and his German Shepherd partner on Spencer’s task force?
Spencer could easily imagine the arguments Elliott’s attorney would bring up. The blood sample had been corrupted and could match any number of suspects. The child’s birth mother, who’d never reported being raped, had had a nervous breakdown and been committed to a mental hospital, so her version of events was suspect. The abduction could be pled down to a lesser crime and argued that it was a solo occurrence, not the culmination of a reign of serial terror through the city.
But there was no arguing away the eyewitness testimony of the courageous woman digging her fingers into his shoulder blade right now. Or Spencer’s driving need to protect the truth she represented.
“Get him out of here, Ms. Parker.” Spencer repeated the command to move the handcuffed man.
But when the uniformed guards urged the prisoner forward, Brian Elliott planted his feet and turned. “Wait. Do I know you, miss?”
Bailey released her death grip on Spencer’s jacket and slid her right hand down his arm. At the brush of her chilled skin against his, he turned his palm into hers, lacing their fingers together, offering his protection and support against the man who’d terrorized her a year earlier. When she latched on to him with both hands, Spencer tightened his hold.
Be tough , Bailey, he wanted to say. He could feel her trembling beside him. Be just as strong as you claim to be .
Kenna Parker nudged aside one of
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