Kansas City Cowboy. Julie Miller
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Chapter One
Police psychologist Dr. Kate Kilpatrick shivered against the chill that lingered in the damp air and tightened the belt of her chocolate-brown trench coat as she hurried along the sidewalk to the crime scene. She hated being cold. And if this early October morning was any indication, then she was in for a long winter.
Impossibly long if she had to face any more visits to this revitalized area of Kansas City and deal with the job she’d been summoned to.
High heels, the KCPD auxiliary identification hanging around her neck, and the confident authority that she’d honed into a suit of armor over the years got the gathering crowd to part and let her pass with little more than a nod or a touch. She spotted the lanky, red-haired detective, Spencer Montgomery, who headed up the serial rapist task force she’d been assigned to, standing near the yellow crime scene tape that blocked the entrance to an alley between a local flower shop and a gutted warehouse building that was being remade into shops, offices and loft apartments. Summoning her courage on a deep breath, Kate turned off her emotions and braced herself for the death and violence reportedly on the other side of that yellow tape.
“Officer Taylor.” She approached the tall, brawny K-9 officer who was guarding the scene with the proportionately big and muscular German shepherd panting beside him.
He touched the brim of his KCPD ball cap. “Ma’am.”
She grinned up at him. The two had recently become acquainted with his assignment to the task force, as well. “I told you to call me Kate.”
“If you call me Pike.”
“Done.” The nickname was unusual, but the charm was genuine.
The K-9 officer pointed to the trio of police officers conferring next to the wall at the edge of the alley. “They’re over there … Kate.”
“Thanks, Pike.” She stepped around him and the dog to join the rest of the team. “Detective Montgomery.”
“Doc.” Spencer turned from the conversation he’d been having with his shorter, dark-haired partner and a copper-haired female officer she recognized as Nick Fensom and Maggie Wheeler, an investigator and a victim interview specialist also assigned to the KCPD task force. “The CSIs are nearly done processing the scene where the body was found, and we’re conducting an initial canvas of the neighborhood.” His report was as measured and concise as the tone of his voice. “Our Rose Red Rapist has stayed true to his pattern. The abduction occurred late at night after the victim closed up the shop for her boss—she was dead by two or three in the morning. This is the dump site, not where the assault occurred—and thus far we haven’t turned up any witnesses.” He handed over his notebook and let her study the observations he’d recorded. “You ready for this?”
“Not especially.” She nodded a good morning to Nick and Maggie. She tipped her head toward the closed-off street behind her. “Is there any way we can thin this crowd out a little bit? And turn off the flashing lights? There’s been enough speculation about the Rose Red Rapist escalating the violence of his attacks. All this commotion is only adding fuel to the fire of public panic.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Maggie volunteered. She turned her mouth to the radio clipped to her jacket and started issuing orders.
“Thanks.” Kate caught Maggie’s hand and squeezed it before she could walk away, silently asking her former patient how she was handling the pressure of the unsolved investigation and the horrible memories the scene in the alleyway must have triggered.
“I’m good,” Maggie reassured her, returning the squeeze with a real smile and reminding Kate of the engagement ring the uniformed officer now wore on her left hand. “It’s the first time one of the assault victims has been found dead.”
“Did you see the body?” Kate asked.
Maggie nodded, her smile fading. “That woman fought hard for her life. But I’m a fighter, too. Doing something to help put that bastard away helps me handle it all. So I’m good. We’ll catch up later, okay?”
More friend than counselor now, Kate agreed. “I owe you a cup of tea. Give me a call.”
“Will do.”
Kate stuffed her hand back into the warmth of her coat pocket as the other woman walked away, and skimmed Detective Montgomery’s notes before handing the book back to him. After discovering Maggie’s affinity for understanding the victims of sexual assault, Kate’s role on the commissioner’s task force had shifted slightly. She wasn’t a trained investigator, and she hadn’t suffered a terrifying attack the way Maggie had, but she understood people. As a trained psychologist who counseled members of the police force and assisted with suspect interviews and criminal profiling, Kate knew how to read a face, a room, an entire crowd. She had a way with words—she knew when to talk, when to listen—and she knew what to say. In a city being terrorized by a serial rapist who’d reappeared in May after a ten-year hiatus, and had claimed his latest victim sometime last night, nerves were on edge.
It was her job to put those nerves to rest.
“I’m assuming you’ve moved the press to a neutral location?” She turned her attention to the two detectives.
Nick Fensom groused at the camera flash that went off on the other side of the street barricade. “Except for a couple of photographers trying to get a shot of the corpse—” he raised his voice to chide the photographer “—which we’ve already moved—”
“Nick,” Spencer cautioned, quieting his partner.
The shorter man held his hands out in a begrudging apology. “The reporters are in front of the Robin’s Nest Florist Shop, where the vic worked.”
Just catty-corner across the street from where the previous victim had been abducted outside a local bridal shop. Kate nodded to the shop owner standing at the window of Fairy Tale Bridal, suspecting she and the other women who lived and worked in this neighborhood were beginning to rethink their choice of the trendy, upscale location. Two assaults in just six months—attacks that were brutal, traceless and now deadly—must be making every woman afraid of her own shadow, and every man look like a potential suspect.
Not to mention what news of another rape had to be doing for local business. With a determined intake of breath, Kate looked to her left, spotting the group of television cameras, broadcast vans, microphones and reporters waiting for her to make a statement on behalf of the task force. “I doubt the flower shop owner will be thrilled with this kind of publicity. I’ll set up on the sidewalk facing north so the storefront won’t be behind me in the picture.”
“Good point.” The detective reached out to stop a young officer who was assisting with crowd control. A sly glance at his navy blue uniform identified him. “Estes?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need you to help Dr. Kilpatrick move this crowd of reporters down half a block or so.”
“Right away, sir.” The young man was barely in his twenties. He was new to the job and eager to please the senior officer. “Dr. Kilpatrick.”
“Hi, Pete.” She knew the rookie cop from a couple of counseling sessions on anger management issues he’d had that had carried over from his off-duty life into his work. “How are you doing today?”
“Haven’t gotten myself into trouble yet.”
“Good to hear.” Kate summoned the necessary smile to send him on his way. She wore a more serious expression when she handed the notebook back to Detective Montgomery. “It’s my understanding that the
Rose Red Rapist hasn’t stayed true to his pattern. The woman he attacked is dead?”
Spencer nodded. “Blow to the head. M.E.’s office has her now. They’ll have to tell us if it was intentional or the result of the struggle—maybe the vic saw his face or managed to get away, and he did it to stop her.”
Two