Page 46 of Her Baby, Her Badge

She didn’t get a chance to see his reaction to that statement, though, because at that exact moment Wilson and Bailey walked in. And it was obvious from the slight smirk on Wilson’s face that he’d heard what she had said. Despite the ordeal his fiancée had just gone through, Wilson seemed pleased that he might have more fodder he could use against her in a recall.

Bailey, however, wasn’t smirking. Just the opposite. She was pale, and her eyes were red from crying. This ordeal had clearly shaken her to the core.

Dutton moved to the side so she could take the seat he’d been using, and the woman sank down onto it as if her legs were too weak to stand. Wilson dragged the other chair over to sit beside her.

“Have you caught the SOB who did this to Bailey?” Wilson snapped, aiming a hefty dose of anger at Grace.

“I’m working on it,” Grace assured him and then turned all of her attention to his fiancée. “Bailey, for now, let’s just chat in here. Later, you can make your formal statement. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Bailey muttered, and she practically folded herself into Wilson.

No way could Grace ask the man to leave or Bailey just might clam up, but Wilson couldn’t be present during the formal statement process.

“I know this is hard,” Grace continued, “but can you tell me what happened? Start with how you were taken.”

Bailey gave a shaky nod and swallowed hard. “I was home, getting ready for work, and I heard something in my backyard. It sounded like a wounded cat or something, so I went out my kitchen door to check, and someone must have been waiting there. He immediately stunned me.”

“He?” Grace pressed.

Another nod from Bailey. “Definitely a man, but he was wearing a ski mask so I didn’t see his face.”

Grace so wanted to ask if the man could possibly be Wilson, but she went in a different direction for now and hoped the woman was truly an observant cop. “Any sense of his height or weight?”

“I think he was about six feet, maybe slightly shorter, and had an average build. He was solid but not bulky and didn’t have any trouble throwing me over his shoulder after he stunned me.”

Bailey had answered that quickly, letting Grace know she’d given this some thought. Grace only hoped Wilson hadn’t planted anything in the woman’s head that would skew the guilt away from him.

Both Wilson and Brian were right at six feet tall, and both men had what she’d call average builds, so the description didn’t rule them out. But Grace was betting this had been the work of a henchman. It would have been too risky for either Wilson or Brian to kidnap a cop in broad daylight.

“Anything about the man stand out?” Grace went on. “Did he say anything to you?”

Bailey shook her head. “He didn’t speak, and he was wearing gloves so I couldn’t see his hands. He was wearing black steel-toed boots, though.” She stopped and shook her head. “I know that’s not much. Lots of people wear boots like that. But there was nothing about him that told me who he was.”

“Alright,” Grace said, trying to keep her voice soothing despite the steely stare Wilson was giving her. “What happened after he used the stun gun and picked you up?”

This time, there was no quick answer. “I’m not sure,” Bailey admitted. “Right after he had me, he jabbed me with a needle.” She pointed to her arm, but Grace couldn’t actually see the puncture mark because of the bruises and scrapes she’d gotten from being pulled through the window of the cruiser, and then the crash.

“The tox results aren’t back yet,” Wilson said, and even that was a snarl. “And don’t you dare say I don’t have the right to call the lab about that. Bailey’s my fiancée. That gives me the right.”

It didn’t. Not legally. And especially since he was a suspect, but as long as Grace got the results, she couldn’t see the harm in Wilson knowing them. Besides, if he’d been the one to arrange this attack, then he likely already knew what had been used to drug her.

“When I regained consciousness,” Bailey went on a moment later, “I was tied to that tombstone, and I saw Mr. McClennan and you driving up.” She turned to Dutton then. “Thank you for getting me into the cruiser. You saved my life. You both did,” she added to Grace.

“They wouldn’t have had to save your life if she’d done her job in the first place and caught the killer,” Wilson snapped, and it seemed as if he was geared up to do more lashing out, but Bailey gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Grace was surprised that the gesture worked and Wilson seemed to throttle back a couple of notches.

“Why didn’t he just stab me?” Bailey asked. She tried, and failed, to blink back tears. “That’s the MO. Why did he let me live?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace answered honestly. “This attack does break the pattern from the first two murders.”

“But then there’s the attack on his father,” Wilson said, tipping his head to Dutton. “And the one at your house that left another woman dead. No pattern in those two.”

“No,” she replied. “But both of those attacks were likely meant to get to Dutton and me.”

What she didn’t voice was that the pepper spray could have been shot with a paintball gun that many people knew how to use, but using explosives and setting up a firetrap required some kind of expertise. Wilson might have that knowledge, but there were no indications that Cassie or Brian did. Then again, it might be something that could be learned from the internet.

“Pattern,” Wilson grumbled. “That’s the problem. You’re looking for a pattern, and it’s not there. That’s because all this has to do with you. I think it’s happening because the people of this town don’t want you wearing that badge.”

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