„You are hurt. You’re going to the ER.“
„No. Please.“ She dragged in a breath and pulled away, the brief respite over. He reached for her face, but she shook her head. „Not here. She’s here.“
His eyes took on an unholy light, and she saw no further explanation was necessary. „Where?“
Kristen gestured to a small unmarked minivan. „Her minion has us in his sights.“
„Her minion will turn over that goddamned tape,“ Reagan snarled. „Can you stand on your own for a minute?“
„Do I get to see you rough up Richardson?“ Kristen asked with a quirk of her lips, and as Reagan bared his teeth in response Kristen couldn’t help but think of him on the beach. Somehow, he looked a great deal more appealing right now than in her daydream.
„Only if she makes me mad.“
„Then I can stand on my own.“ She watched Reagan take the distance between her car and Richardson’s van in great, ground-eating strides. He threw open the sliding side door and blocked the camera’s shot with his big body. Richardson scrambled out, her hands on her hips, but Reagan didn’t move, and a minute later Kristen saw a black cassette in his hand.
Then he was back, helping Kristen up into his SUV.
„I need a statement, sir.“
Reagan drew a deep breath, visibly restraining himself before he turned to the hapless young uniform who had responded to her 9-1-1.
„Do you know who this is?“
The officer met her eyes over Reagan’s shoulder. „Yes, I do.“
„Then can you meet us at her house in half an hour? She’ll give you her statement then. And, Officer? Can you keep that viper from following us?“
The young man looked over at Richardson’s van with contempt. „It’ll be a pleasure, Detective. Miss Mayhew, are you sure you don’t need medical attention?“
She smiled down at him, relief sinking in. „I’m sure. But thank you.“
He walked away and Reagan looked up and Kristen’s heart caught in her throat at the raw caring she saw in his face. It was so difficult to resist. „My brother Sean’s wife is a pediatrician. You’re bigger than her normal patient, but I bet she’d make a house call.“
„No, but thank you, really. Please, just take me home.“
He slammed her door and swung up into the seat next to her, and for a long moment neither said anything. Then, very gently, „Why didn’t you call me before you left the office? I would have kept you safe.“
To her horror tears burned at her eyes. He saw them, but said nothing, just sat there waiting for her answer.
„Remember the new case I mentioned this morning?“ she finally answered unsteadily, but Reagan’s gaze never flickered.
„The sexual assault who didn’t want to testify but whose father was insisting?“
She nodded. „Yeah. That one. They came to see me this afternoon and the father said…“ Her voice broke and sucking in a panicked breath, she pushed the tears back. „For a minute I thought he wanted a different prosecutor, because of all the media attention his daughter would get right now. But he didn’t.“
Reagan pulled a pack of tissues from the console between their seats and offered it silently. She took the whole pack and clutched it in her hand. „He said that he hoped I lost because then the ‘humble servant’ would take care of the bastard that raped his daughter. Three days ago I was the prosecutor. Now I’m a surrogate gun for a vigilante.“ She released her hold on the poor pack of tissues and tried to restore it to its original shape. „I needed to be alone.“ She looked away from his eyes. „I’m sorry.“
He started the car. „You’re all right and that’s all that’s important now.“ He pulled away from the curb. „I’m going to sleep on your sofa.“
She understood he wasn’t making a request. She watched the mangled rental car disappear from her side mirror and for the first time let it sink in how truly close she’d come to serious harm.
They could have done anything. They could have… Would have…
It was like the lid lifting from Pandora’s box, releasing memories she’d kept locked away for so long. She shuddered. Hard.
„It folds out,“ she murmured, closed her eyes, and tried to dream about beaches and sun and waves. But once released, only one image filled her mind, replaying over and over like a horrific video of someone else’s life. But it wasn’t someone else’s. It was hers.
Friday, February 20,
7:30 p.m.
As Reagan’s vehicle drove away he let out an angry breath. She was safe now, but she might not have been. He’d almost stepped in, but then she’d taken care of the matter herself, spraying their eyes, making them run, tails between their legs like the curs they were.
She wasn’t hurt. But she could have been. Despicable worms. Forcing a woman off the road, planning God-knows-what.
He jumped at the sound of tapping at his window. A police officer stood outside.
„We’re trying to clear this area, sir. Could you please move along?“
He smiled. Just nice and easy, and no suspicions would be aroused. He nodded, saying nothing. He pulled the van away and slipped into traffic. He couldn’t be caught, not yet. He still had work to do. He wasn’t even close to emptying the fishbowl.
Chapter Eleven
Friday, February 20,
8:00 P.M.
„Give me your keys.“
Kristen said nothing, moved not a muscle, just sat staring out the window as she’d done the entire way to her house. She was in shock, Abe realized and cursed himself for not following his gut and driving her straight to the ER.
He crossed around to her side of the SUV and gently grasped her chin. „Kristen.“ He snapped his fingers and she blinked. „Let’s go inside. Can you walk?“
She nodded dully and slid down, her face contorting in pain as her foot touched the ground. Ignoring her muted protests, he swung her up into his arms and carried her as if she were one of Sean’s kids.
He eased her in through her kitchen door, careful not to jar the knee he’d seen her favoring as he’d stalked off to relieve that bitch Richardson of her ill-gotten gains. He couldn’t stop Richardson at the press conference, but he’d be damned if he allowed her to portray Kristen scared and hurt for all Chicago to see.
Because even through her bravado, the woman he held in his arms had been both hurt and scared. Terrified. He thought about the look in her eyes that morning. Had it just been that morning that they’d sat outside the Restons ’ home?
Impossible to believe, but true. She’d said victims never, ever forget. And he’d suspected she’d been one. Was still one. Now, he knew for sure. How that made him feel was something he wasn’t ready to analyze. He was still too pissed off by the here and now to even think about the past.
„I need to turn off the alarm,“ she murmured. So he set her down long enough to punch the buttons on the console, then guided her to the overstuffed sofa in her living room, stretched out her legs, and slipped a pillow under her knees.
He unbuttoned the top button of her coat and her hands sprang to his. „No.“ She looked up, her eyes carefully blank in the darkness of the room.
„Okay.“ He switched on the overhead light and they both blinked. „I’m going to make you some tea.“ He hoped she had tea bags, because he had no idea of how much loose tea to put in her china teapot with the big roses. „Stay here.“
She did have tea bags and he completed the task with reasonable competence while he placed calls to Spinnelli, Mia, and his physician sister-in-law Ruth, his voice steady. But when he picked up the cup of tea his hands trembled.