Kansas City Cowboy. Julie Miller
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could also indicate a psychotic break—a dangerous development that meant his attacks would become both more frequent and more violent.
Kate had counseled plenty of assault victims before, but she’d never been assigned to work on a case where the victim hadn’t survived. “And we’re sure it’s our guy? And not a sick coincidence?”
The crime lab liaison assigned to the task force, Annie Hermann, approached the opposite side of the crime scene tape, holding up a bagged red rose in her gloved hand. “I don’t know anyone else who leaves one of these with his victim. I’ll run an analysis, but I’m betting it came from the flower shop where she worked.”
“That’s gutsy.” Detective Fensom lifted the tape for the petite brunette in the navy blue CSI jacket to join them. “Buying a flower from the woman you plan to attack later? She probably looked him right in the face.”
“Could be why he killed her,” Annie theorized. After a moment’s hesitation, she tucked her curly dark hair behind her ear and crossed beneath Detective Fensom’s arm to join their circle. “Maybe he was a regular customer and she recognized him by the sound of his voice, even if he did wear a mask to hide his face the way his other victims describe. If she called him by name, that could have been her death sentence.”
Kate offered another, more disturbing explanation. “Or maybe rape is no longer satisfying enough for our unsub to display his power over the women he attacks.”
Spencer Montgomery tucked his notebook inside the front of his suit jacket. “Yeah, well, let’s keep that tidbit of information to ourselves. The city’s already on edge. If they believe it’s a onetime thing, and not an escalation in the violence of his attacks, we might ease somebody’s fears.”
Kate nodded her agreement and inhaled another fortifying breath.
“Go work your magic, Kate,” Spencer encouraged her. “You calm this chaos down and we’ll finish up here.”
“Right. We’ll debrief later at the precinct?”
Detective Montgomery nodded. “This afternoon, if possible.”
“Keep me posted.”
As the detectives and CSI went back to work, Kate pulled up the sleeve of her coat to make sure her watch was visible. Short and sweet was the key to a successful press conference. She was already formulating a brief statement and would set a time limit for entertaining questions. When she was done, she’d send the press away to make their preliminary reports and tell the residents of Kansas City to remain cautious but not to panic—that KCPD was on the job. Then she could get back to her office at the Fourth Precinct to get some real work done on unmasking a serial rapist turned murderer and get him off the streets.
Kate raised her hands to silence the onslaught of questions that greeted her and took her position on the sidewalk. She pushed aside a microphone that had gotten too close to her face and squinted as the bright lights of numerous cameras suddenly spotlighted her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.” As her eyes adjusted to the unnatural brightness, some of the faces in the crowd began to take shape. She recognized Gabriel Knight, a reporter for the Kansas City Journal and one of KCPD’s harshest critics. She knew Rebecca Cartwright, another reporter who happened to be the daughter-in-law of KCPD’s commissioner, and who would no doubt put a more positive spin on things than Knight would.
She hesitated for one awkward, painful, debilitating moment when she spotted Vanessa Owen, a woman who reported local news for one of the city’s television stations. Vanessa’s caramel skin, dark brown hair and smoothly articulate voice had become a fixture on Kansas City televisions. She’d once been a fixture in Kate’s life, as well. Vanessa had been a good friend, a sorority sister from college who continued to move in the same social circles as they established careers and marriages after graduation. The story between them that mattered the most had thankfully never been aired, though at times like this, the events that marked the end of their friendship still burned like a raw wound in Kate’s chest.
But Kate was here to do her job, just as Vanessa was here to do hers. This wasn’t personal. Suck it up, counselor. You’re in control here. KCPD made you spokesperson for the task force because they know you can handle it. And with that mental pep talk sending her emotions back into the protective vault inside her, Kate blinked and moved on with the job at hand.
Beyond that first row of reporters, the lights and flashes and eager crowd made identifying others in the sea of faces nearly impossible. “I’m Dr. Kate Kilpatrick. I’m a police psychologist and public liaison officer with KCPD.”
Gabriel Knight didn’t wait for any further introduction. “Is it true that the Rose Red Rapist’s latest assault victim is dead?”
Biting her tongue to maintain a patient facade, Kate looked straight into the reporter’s probing blue eyes. “I will be making a brief statement on behalf of the department and the task force investigating the attack, and then I will have time for a handful of questions.”
“Make your statement,” Knight challenged.
Kate eased the tension she felt into a serene smile and included the entire gathering, including Vanessa Owen, in her speech. “A twenty-eight-year-old woman was sexually assaulted in this neighborhood last night, sometime between ten p.m. and three o’clock this morning. There was a rose left at the scene, indicating the attack was committed by the man—” she paused and held out her hands, placing the blame for their perp’s notoriety squarely where it belonged “—you have dubbed as the Rose Red Rapist.”
“Kate, is the woman dead?” Vanessa stole Gabriel Knight’s question before he could ask it.
Although she bristled beneath her coat at the liberty her old friend had taken in addressing her by name, Kate merely nodded. “Yes. We are in the preliminary stages of a murder investigation—”
“Who was she?” Vanessa followed up.
“—and pending more exact information and notification of the family, I can’t give more details at this time.”
“Kate,” Vanessa prodded. “You have to give us something.”
She looked straight into the camera beside Vanessa. “This is what I can tell you. We will find this man. The task force members investigating these crimes are top-notch specialists—the best in KCPD. I guarantee that we will not rest until this attacker is caught and arrested.”
A commotion at the rear of the crowd diverted Vanessa’s and Gabriel Knight’s attention for a moment, but the cameras were still rolling, so Kate continued with the briefing. “Rest assured that KCPD and the commissioner’s task force are doing everything in our power to identify the attacker and ascertain whether or not this crime is related to the attack that occurred in May, or to others that have occurred in previous years.”
The shuffling of movement and Hey’s and What the’s? in the crowd behind them finally garnered Gabriel’s and Vanessa’s attention, too.
The spotlight faded as cameras turned to see what the fuss was about. Normally, Kate was relieved when the cameras turned away to give her the privacy she preferred, but she had to say what she was required to say. “KCPD urges the women of Kansas City to practice common safety procedures. Don’t walk alone after dark. Lock your cars and doors. Carry your keys or even pepper spray in your hand, and be sure to check under and around your vehicle before approaching it. Remember that KCPD is offering free self-protection workshops, or you can look into classes offered elsewhere. And finally we ask that everyone remain vigilant….”
Kate’s voice tapered off as the lights followed the parting of the crowd, splitting like a crack in an icy lake, and heading straight toward her.
“Sir, you’re gonna have to …” She thought she heard Pete Estes’s voice, but it faded into the growing buzz of the crowd.
She spotted a cowboy hat and broad shoulders a moment before Gabriel Knight