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Clay worked long into the night. They had two dead women, who’d been in the ground probably longer than Bailey had been alive.
Now they had another dead woman. Who was less than a week dead.
But there was a possible connection. Clay strongly suspected it.
Now he just had to prove it.
Even with the time gap between this recent body and the two before, women all matching the same victimology didn’t get killed in Barratt County without there being some kind of connection.
He glanced at the clock; it was going on three thirty. He looked at the couch. She'd flipped over, knocking the blanket off. Of course, she'd been flipping and flopping for the last hour. It didn't surprise him.
Bailey rarely stopped moving. A wire of energy ran through her most of the time.
But when she whimpered, his head jerked back in her direction. When she let out a deep, piercing scream, he jumped from his chair. Before she could have everyone else in the building running in there. She’d be mortified.
He knelt beside her and pulled her close before she could fall off the couch and hurt herself. The look in her eyes told him every bit of the horror she'd seen in her dreams.
"Daddy! Don't let him kill us! Don’t leave us down here!"
"Bailey! Look at me, honey. Just look at me." He reached over her head and snapped on the small lamp next to the couch.
Blue eyes so full of terror latched on to his. Her hands grabbed his shirt and clung.
Reason slid into those eyes slowly. Then embarrassment. Shame.
"Ah, honey, don't look at me like that. You’re safe. It's ok now."
"Is it? I feel like an idiot. And my father's still out there. Sometimes...sometimes I think he's still watching. Waiting." The last came on a whisper that broke Clay's very soul. Then she stiffened in his arms. One small hand came up between them. She looked around, orienting herself. "How did I get over here?"
"I moved you here a few hours ago. It's about three."
"You moved me? Why?"
"Hell, Bailey, I couldn't leave you there like that. And you needed to sleep." He tried to back away, to put some distance between them, but he couldn't force his body to move. "You have nightmares like this a lot?"
She stared at him for a long while. "Why? Going to use it to kick me off the force?"
"Hell, no. But I'd like to help. We all have nightmares in this job." And the idea of this woman being plagued by fears was a knife right through him.
She was shaking. For a moment, he was afraid she was going to fall completely apart. But Bailey was stronger than that. Far, far stronger. She pulled in a deep breath and straightened. One small hand landed on his thigh; she used the position to push herself upright the rest of the way.
He grunted and grabbed that offending hand. "A little too close there, honey."
Bailey's eyes widened, and her lips rounded into an adorable O. "I—I'm sorry."
Her embarrassment was so damned palpable it pissed him off. Hadn't she realized? Surely she had. A guy's body did certain things when around the woman he wanted. And Bailey had to know he wanted her. “You ok?”
She shook her head. "I'm ok. I...need to go home."
No. He finally let go of her hand. "It's forty miles away. And you're back on at nine. It would be after four before you even made it home. Stay right where you're at tonight. I'll head out after a bit. You just stay on the couch. I'll rest easier, knowing you're here. Safe." His knees were starting to cramp, where he knelt next to the damned couch. But Clay stayed where he was.
Bailey just stared at him, her eyes wide and soft in a way he wasn't used to seeing. He had to do something. Clay grabbed the blanket before he grabbed her. He tucked it around her shoulders. And fought the urge to let his hands linger. "Stay here tonight. I'll call Jake in the morning. He can grab anything you need then."