Kathleen Tailer - Quest For Justice

Her pain touched him. Sure, she was a criminal and justice had never been served in her case, but she was clearly suffering. He wouldn’t wish this type of agony on his worst enemy. He held her tightly, letting his strength buoy her up. He would hold her for as long as she needed. It was the least he could do, despite her past and his feelings about it.

* * *

Bailey just couldn’t hold it in. He couldn’t be dead. Her grief was overwhelming. Although her father had abandoned her as a child, Bailey had finally been able to forgive him and move forward with their relationship within the past year. It had been a slow and bumpy process, but getting to know her father had been a big part of her life over the last few months. She had even started working with him on his cases, and they were becoming a formidable team. How could all of that be over?

Once her tears ebbed, she felt numb and listless but savored the feel of warmth and security that Franklin Kennedy offered in his embrace. He might be her enemy, but at least now she knew he was human. He was aware of her criminal history and everything she had done, yet he still didn’t push her away in her hour of need. She was grateful and also a bit surprised.

Finally, she caught her breath and stepped back from his touch. He offered her a handkerchief and she took it and wiped her eyes. Who carried handkerchiefs anymore? It was an inane thought, but it distracted her for a moment, and she wanted desperately to think about anything but her father’s final fate. She took another step back, embarrassed by her behavior. “I’m sorry. I guess I feel overwhelmed by all of this, but I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Please forgive me.” She softened her voice as she brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “So where is his body?”

“At the morgue. I need to take you over there to identify him when you’re ready.”

“Is that why you kept me here so long?”

Kennedy nodded. “It’s one of the reasons. I didn’t want you to see him in the trunk of that car. That shouldn’t be your last memory of him. By the time we get downtown, they’ll have him cleaned up a bit.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I really am.”

She nodded and was silent for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Okay. Kennedy had scored two points today in the humane category. They could never be friends, but at least some of her anger toward him had dwindled. Maybe he didn’t hate her after all. Six years ago, Kennedy had pursued her relentlessly and had finally caught her red-handed with the stolen medical equipment that her mother needed to survive. She’d been convicted and sentenced, but, even so, she doubted he counted it as a victory.

They both knew the prosecutor had failed to gather enough evidence to convict her of her more serious crime—stealing a little over a million dollars to pay for her mother’s medical bills. However, her mother had died shortly after the theft, and Bailey had actually spent very little of it. It was currently hidden away in an offshore account, well concealed from local law enforcement and the forensic accountants they’d hired.

She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the here and now. A new thought hit her. “So who were the two men behind my father’s building?”

Kennedy shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? I think I have a right to know who killed my father.”

He pursed his lips, apparently unwilling to answer her.

She pressed on. “Were they American?”

He still didn’t answer.

“Oh, come on, Kennedy. You won’t be giving away government secrets by letting me know what my father stumbled into.”

“That’s Detective Kennedy, Bailey, and I meant it when I said I’m not at liberty to say. There’s an ongoing investigation in place. That’s really all you need to know.”

She fumed inwardly but could tell that he wasn’t going to budge. At least not today. She let the issue drop for now but resolved to revisit it once things settled down. She was going to find out why her father had been killed. That was the bottom line.

It was time to go. She needed to get the viewing over with and then hide away in her apartment so she could just be alone in her pain. “Let’s do this,” she said quietly, trying to mask her grief. They left the interrogation room and she gathered her phone and keys from the desk sergeant as they left the station. She didn’t protest when Kennedy held on to her guns and knife, knowing her objection would be futile. She wasn’t actually surprised at his precaution since he had seen her temper flare so much today. Probably the last thing he wanted was for her to lose it again and have her gun in her hand at the same time.

He always seemed to catch her at her worst. Even though she’d made admirable attempts to turn her life around, Kennedy would always see her as a criminal.

They arrived at the morgue and were greeted by a worker who took them to a small room with a window covered by thick, dark curtains. Kennedy met her eye. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” Bailey answered. “Go ahead.”

Kennedy pushed the button on the intercom near the window. “We’re ready.”

The curtain opened and showed a medical room behind the glass. She gasped as the attendant pulled back the sheet. The body was definitely her father, but she hadn’t been prepared for the damage the bullet had caused. It was a horrible image that she was afraid was going to stay with her for several years to come. She nodded and the attendant quickly put the sheet back over the body. She gripped the handkerchief, praying she wouldn’t start bawling right here at the morgue.

“I’ll take you home,” Kennedy said softly.

She glanced up at him and their eyes connected. There was compassion there, yet still the determination and grit that she had always seen in him since he had first snapped the cuffs around her wrists six years ago. But, in this case, his determination was a good thing. If he was assigned to solve her father’s murder, then he wouldn’t give up until he had the culprit behind bars.

“Are you going to be working this case?”

“I am,” he confirmed.

A wave of satisfaction swept over her. “So am I,” she said vehemently. “One of those two goons in the alley probably pulled the trigger, but there has to be more to this. I’m going to find out who and why and make them pay.”

He put his hands up. “No, you’re not. You’re going to go home and stay out of the way while I do my job. I don’t need or want your help.”

“That’s not the way it works, Detective,” she said grimly. “He was my father. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it takes.”

THREE

Bailey opened the office door, then bent under the crime scene tape and closed the door quickly behind her. She ignored the light switch and instead flipped on her small flashlight, seeking out her father’s desk. After her long night at the police station and the morgue, she’d tried to sleep at her apartment but hadn’t been able to keep her mind off her father’s murder. Once night had fallen again, she’d decided to start her investigation, which meant going back to her father’s office and looking for clues.

She continued her perusal of the desktop and noted that her father’s laptop was missing, but she didn’t know if the police had taken it as part of their investigation or if someone else had acted. It didn’t actually matter either way. Her father was a Luddite, tried and true, and kept meticulous paper files for every case. She looked around her father’s desktop for any notes or hints regarding the case he’d been working on when he’d texted her, but she found nothing. Either the notes had also been taken or he hadn’t written anything down.