Assumed Identity(14)
He never heard the end of her sentence. By the time she straightened from the bassinet, he was gone.
Chapter Three
“You take care of whatever you need to and don’t worry about Emma.” Hope Lockhart pulled her toffee-blond hair from beneath Emma’s head where it nestled on her ample bosom and shook the loose, sleep-rumpled curls down her back. “I’ll take her across the street and get the spare room ready for you two. It’ll be a lot quieter in my apartment and she can sleep. You know I like hanging out with sweetie-pie here.”
Robin followed her friend into the hallway outside her office and pulled the blanket up over her sleeping daughter’s head. “I’m so glad you came over, Hope. Thank you.”
“Not a problem. When I heard the sirens and saw all the lights... You know what I thought.” Hope’s fearful expression echoed what every woman thought whenever KCPD, reporters and an ambulance gathered in this part of Kansas City—the Rose Red Rapist had claimed another victim.
Robin adjusted the ice pack over her bruised shoulder and gave her friend a hug. “I’m okay. At least, I will be once all the craziness calms down.”
When she pulled away, Hope’s deep gray eyes had narrowed into a frown behind the glasses she wore. She was looking beyond Robin’s shoulder to the three KCPD investigators inside her office. “Can’t you tell these people to go away and leave you alone, at least until daylight? It’s not fair that the victim has to deal with all this after being attacked. I don’t think I could handle so many people poking into my life, wanting something from me.”
Robin summoned a smile as she pulled together the gaping collar of the trench coat Hope had thrown on over her nightgown before running downstairs from her apartment above the Fairy Tale Bridal Shop she owned across the street. Her shy friend was stronger than she gave herself credit for. “Who came charging over here in the middle of the night when she thought Emma or I might be hurt?”
“I didn’t stop to think about it—I just did it. And you are hurt.” Hope tucked a damp, frizzing tendril behind her ear. “But talking to those detectives in your office without stumbling over my words and sounding like an idiot? Trust me, I’d rather babysit.”
“Well, I’m grateful.” Robin leaned in and pressed a goodbye kiss to Emma’s soft, warm cheek. She pulled back with a stern, sisterly warning for her friend. “Make sure one of the officers walks you across the street. Even that short distance isn’t safe anymore.”
“I will. I saw Maggie Wheeler outside, blocking off the parking lot with crime scene tape. She’s a client of mine. I’m planning her wedding to that Marine, remember? I ordered her flowers through you—”
“Detective Montgomery?” The back door slammed shut and a man’s deep voice called out, interrupting Hope’s soft gasp. The pungent smell of wet dog tickled Robin’s nose a split second before Hope hugged Emma tightly to her chest and retreated a step.
“Hope? What is it?” Robin turned at her friend’s stricken expression to see a K-9 officer with his brown-and-tan German shepherd partner striding down the hallway. The dog paused when his handler did, and shook himself from nose to tail. The cop pulled off his black KCPD ball cap and knocked the excess water against his pant leg, leaving a similar spray of water droplets on the concrete floor.
“Detective Montgomery?” The officer rapped sharply on the frame of the door to Robin’s office. His square jaw warmed with a shade of pink when he realized the two women were staring at him. “Sorry, ma’am. If you point me to a mop, I can clean up after Hans and me.”
Robin suspected the blush on those rugged features meant the apology was sincere. “That’s okay. I deal with plenty of water around all these flowers. That’s why the floor is sealed and the walls have moisture-resistant wallpaper. I’ll wait until everyone’s done before I tackle the footprints and rain we’ve all tracked in.”
“Pike?” Spencer Montgomery, the red-haired detective who seemed to be running this whole show, looked up from the notepad where he’d been jotting information and joined them at the doorway. He tucked the notepad and pen inside the pocket of his suit jacket. “Did you two find anything?”
“Rain’s washed away any scent we can track.” The nameplate on the officer’s uniform identified him as E. Taylor. Pike must be a nickname. “Looks like there was a scuffle in the alley, though—away from the loading dock where Ms. Carter said she ended up. The perp could have escaped through there easily enough. As for the man you claim rescued you—”