Kathleen Tailer - Quest For Justice

It couldn’t be. Not here. Not now.

She almost wanted her assailant to speak again so she could prove herself mistaken. It couldn’t be him. There was only one man on the planet who hated her and always thought the worst of her—Franklin Kennedy. She hadn’t seen or heard from Kennedy in years, but she was certain Kennedy was still a cop. He was the kind of man who was born to work in law enforcement and would toe the line until he either got killed in the line of duty or retired to work in some security firm. He was a cop, through and through. He was also a straight arrow that never bent, regardless of the circumstances. But why would Kennedy be here at her father’s office at two in the morning?

“Hands up. Slowly.”

The voice was gritty, but still spoken so softly that she couldn’t verify that it was Kennedy. The gun twisted slightly against her skin and she tensed, then she slowly raised her hands. The man reached forward and took her Glock and stowed it, then roughly shoved her up against the brick wall and frisked her, removing the small knife she had hidden in her waistband and the second pistol she’d secured in her ankle holster. He moved in closer so only she could hear his voice. She could even feel his exhalations warm against her neck and smell the mint from his breath. “Got any more hardware I should know about?”

“No,” she answered softly, unable to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Look, I’m not trying to make trouble. My father called and when I got here, he wasn’t in his office...” She tried to turn around to explain herself face-to-face, but he stopped her before she could turn, grabbed her wrists with one hand and cuffed her with the other.

“We got a report that there was a disturbance in this alley. The caller heard a gunshot, and you’ve got a gun. You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you exercise that right until we get this sorted out.” He tightened the manacles until they bit into her skin. It was Kennedy. She was sure of it now. She didn’t know how or why, but Franklin Kennedy now had her cuffed for the second time in her life. The first had been a living nightmare. She hoped this time wouldn’t be a repeat. She pulled against the cuffs as frustration filled her.

“Easy.” His voice was still low, and when he paused, she imagined he was listening to other policemen through an earpiece. When he spoke again, he wasn’t talking to her and her suspicions were confirmed.

“Roger that. I’ve got one suspect in cuffs. You’re a go. Repeat, you’re a go.”

Suddenly she heard screeching tires and blue police lights lit up the side of the building. The yelling around the corner escalated, but now it wasn’t the foreign language she heard, but cops yelling at the two suspects to halt and put their hands up. The men didn’t obey though, and she heard running and more shouting, but thankfully it sounded like they were moving away from her instead of getting closer. A few seconds later, gunfire erupted. Kennedy instantly pushed her to the ground, shielding her with his body, his own gun drawn, ready to shoot if they were threatened. For the first time, she got a glimpse of his face.

Clean-cut. Bold, direct features. It was Franklin Kennedy, alright. A spike of adrenaline soared through her veins.

“Stay low. Got it?” he growled.

He didn’t wait for an answer and kept his eyes peeled on the area around them.

Bailey’s fear erupted. What was going on? First her father had sent her that bizarre text, and the next thing she knew she was handcuffed by her nemesis just a block or so away from a gun battle. Was her father caught in the middle? Was he even involved at all? Questions filled her mind, as well as a sense of dread. None of this could be good. Being handcuffed and forced to give up her weapons hadn’t helped matters. How was she going to help her father if she was under arrest?

The bullets stopped flying and she felt Kennedy relax against her. He stood and pulled her to her feet. It was only then that he took a good look at his prisoner’s face. His eyes widened and then narrowed.

“Bailey Cox?”

“In the flesh,” she 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.