said with a touch of sass and then instantly regretted her tone. The last thing she needed to do was antagonize Kennedy while she was handcuffed and once again at his mercy.
He shifted, started to say something, apparently thought better of it and shook his head. Finally, he muttered, “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Same here,” Bailey agreed.
“How long has it been? Five years?”
“Six.” She said under her breath, “Six very long years.”
He ignored her comment and a wave of anger seemed to sweep over him. “What are you doing armed to the teeth out here in the middle of the night?”
“My father is a private investigator and his office is in this building. He sent me a text and asked me to come over, so here I am. And I don’t go anywhere unarmed.”
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry. I have a permit for the guns. It’s in my wallet.”
He raised his eyebrow and she continued. “I petitioned the court and got my rights reinstated. I’m allowed to carry a weapon.” She swallowed. She would rather do anything else than ask for his help, but, at this point, she didn’t have a choice.
“Look, I’m worried about my dad. His office was empty when I arrived, and I don’t know what happened to him. I heard noise in the alley and came to investigate. That’s it. I don’t know anything about a gunshot, but I have to find my father and figure this out. Can you uncuff me?”
“No way.” He grabbed her arm near the elbow and started leading her away from the building. “The firefight is over, but you’re sitting on the sidelines until I get some answers. I don’t want you in the middle of this.”
She tried, but she couldn’t keep the anxiety out of her voice. “You can’t hold me. I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“We’ll see about that.” His tone was icy. He led her toward the road where a nondescript sedan was parked against the curb.
A wave of desperation swept over her. “You can’t do this. My father might be in danger. I have to find him...” She started to struggle but he held her firmly.
“What you have to do is settle down and let us get this scene secured.” He pulled her roughly to the side of the car, apparently unaffected by her pleas or protests. One of her kicks caught him in the shin and he grimaced, but the next thing she knew, he had put his hand on her head, forced her into the back seat, closed the door and locked it. “Stay put and relax. I’ll keep an eye out for your father while I’m working the scene.”
His promise meant little to her. She wanted to be the one out there looking for him. She had a strong sense that something was terribly wrong and her father was either hurt or in grave danger, but with her hands cuffed and the door locked, there wasn’t much she could do. Kennedy walked slowly away and then motioned to a uniformed officer who had just arrived on the scene and directed him to the car. “Stay with her. Watch her carefully. Don’t let her escape or hurt herself. She’s a person of interest. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” The officer nodded and took up his post outside her door.
“Kennedy!” she yelled futilely. “Come back here! I need to know what’s going on!”
* * *
Franklin Kennedy ignored Bailey’s pleas and headed over to the crime scene. He had heard most of what had happened on his earpiece, but he needed to check things out for himself. His fists clenched and unclenched as he approached. Bailey Cox! She was the last person he’d ever expected to see, although the fact that he’d found her in the middle of a crime scene was very telling. Six years ago, Bailey Cox had been his first arrest after he’d made detective with the Jacksonville sheriff’s office.
She’d only been twenty years old then, but her youth and inexperience hadn’t stopped her from stealing over a million dollars from a large real estate firm’s escrow account. Bailey Cox was an incredible hacker and had somehow managed to move the money right under the noses of the firm’s security team. The money had never been recovered. She’d been busted on some other smaller charges and had served some time, but Bailey’s case was the one that bothered him the most since he’d joined the force. She had basically gotten away with her crimes, and, in his book, that was just plain wrong. And where was the stolen money?
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He’d had a soft spot for Bailey Cox before she’d stolen that money. He’d run into her several times when he’d been a beat cop, newly on the job, and she was a brash teenager. In fact, he’d even felt sorry for her back then. She’d had a tough start and gotten in with a bad crowd on more than one occasion. Her mother was a meth user who valued drugs above her daughter’s welfare, and her father had abandoned them both years before. She’d basically been left to her own devices, and although she was smart, she’d still made a series of horrible choices.
She’d always had a smile on her face, however, and been full of fire. She was one of those who was given lemons and somehow always figured out how to make lemonade. He admired that.
Once she’d moved up to committing felonies, however, his soft spot had hardened. Now when he thought of Bailey Cox, he felt nothing but anger and frustration. Sure, she’d had a rough life, but nothing justified her crimes. Still, when she looked at him with those dark blue eyes of hers, it still affected him, even though he fought the feelings.
He pushed the thoughts of Bailey aside and approached the scene where gunfire had erupted. A dark-haired man wearing a sweatshirt was lying faceup in a pool of blood. He certainly wouldn’t be answering any questions, but hopefully they could get other clues from the scene. Already two uniformed officers were putting up police tape while another was bagging and tagging the offender’s gun. He had obviously been firing on the officers when he’d been shot.
“Hey, Frankie.” Another detective from his unit, Ben Graham, was leaning near the body and nodded at him.
Frank returned the nod. “What have you got?”
“Here’s the first one. The other is around the corner. Both were firing on us, and both are now dead, shot by our team. We didn’t have much choice.” Ben stood and motioned down the alley. “Take a walk over to the vehicle by the Dumpster and look in the trunk.”
Frank rose an eyebrow and walked over to where the car still sat with the trunk door open. There wasn’t much light from the street lamp, so he pulled out his flashlight and shone it in the trunk of the car.
There was quite a bit of blood pooled around the body, especially around the man’s gunshot wound in the forehead. He turned to the cop who was standing by the car. “You got a name for our victim?”
“Yeah. His wallet had a photo ID. You’re looking at Matt Cox.”
Frank leaned closer to get a better look, not wanting to believe what he was seeing. Bailey’s father’s dead eyes stared back at him.
Franklin Kennedy stepped up to the table where Bailey Cox was manacled in the interrogation room and took a seat across from her. She’d been there for over three hours while they had verified her story, and so far everything she’d said had checked out. They’d found the text on her cell phone, and she did indeed have a concealed weapons permit, despite her criminal history.
She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time just because she was worried about her father—and now he had to tell her she’d never see the man again.
Frank hated giving death notices. He dropped the file on the table and leaned back. She was antsy and her hands moved constantly, giving away just how uncomfortable she was in the police station. He said nothing for several minutes, and his quiet seemed to unnerve her.
Finally, she