to breathe and get his emotions in check.
His body was a lost cause where Logan was concerned. But he could at least control his thoughts. Maybe. He glanced over at Logan and noticed an earbud tucked into his ear. The night before, he’d been too worried about Ashley to question Logan’s presence at the bar. He’d meant to grill him when they got back to Bailey’s house, but his friend had needed him more.
It didn’t make sense.
At all.
Why hadn’t they taken Ashley to a hospital the night before? They should have. If she was drugged, they would need the evidence. And she had been drugged… hadn’t she?
Plus fibers or whatever from her clothes. Which, now that he thought about it, were still at his house. Isn’t that what they did? Check for fibers? Especially now when they’d really be trying to find this guy since it wasn’t just about his attempt on Ashley anymore; he’d raped Rebecca.
He glanced at Ashley and could see the fear in her eyes. The statistics were scary. Their sociology professor had hammered them home. One in three women would experience sexual violence in her lifetime. Those numbers terrified him.
What would he have done if it had been Ashley? If he’d gone back and found the guy still there, trying to do to her what he’d done to Rebecca?
His heart pounded.
Logan glanced at him with a frown. “You okay?”
Bailey couldn’t even lie. “No.”
“Me either,” Ashley said.
Luckily, he didn’t have to explain further. An unmarked police car pulled to a stop behind Logan’s out on the street, while a squad car parked behind it. The man who got out of the unmarked car must be the detective Logan had mentioned. The other two were uniformed, and Bailey recognized Randy as one of them.
Ashley blew out a nervous breath. “I guess it’s time.”
“He’s a good guy,” Logan said. “And if he’s not, I’ll kick his ass for you.”
He grinned, and it took a second, but Ashley laughed.
Bailey’s heart skipped a beat. He leaned in ever so slightly, trying to convey his wordless thanks. Logan glanced at him, and his smile widened. Bailey’s heart stopped. He licked his lips, and Logan’s eyes drifted down before moving back up again. His eyes changed, the tiniest bit, but Bailey could see his reaction.
Logan knew exactly what effect he was having on Bailey. And he liked it.
“Excuse me for interrupting. I’m James Alfred.” The detective opened a leather wallet that displayed his badge and identification. “I’m looking for Ashley Wilson.”
Ashley smiled, but her voice shook as she spoke. “I’m Ashley.”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened last night.”
“Y-yes, sir.” She glanced at Bailey for support, and he smiled at her.
“Why don’t we talk out here on the porch,” the detective said gently. “It’s such a nice afternoon.”
“Yeah, that’s good,” Ashley said. She pulled her legs up onto the edge of the chair and wrapped her arms around them.
“If you gentlemen would excuse us for a few minutes, while we talk. The officers would like to get the names of anyone either of you recognized at the bar last night.”
“Oh,” Bailey said. “I can’t stay with her?”
“Well,” James said, glancing quickly at Ashley, “I’d prefer to talk to you separately, but you’re welcome to stay within sight of us.”
“Ashley?” Bailey didn’t care what the detective preferred. He cared about what his friend needed.
“I’m okay. Just stay close.”
“You got it.” Bailey stood and went down to the yard, where the two other officers waited.
Logan followed behind them, but his cell phone rang when they got close. “Excuse me for a minute.” Their eyes met in another of those strange supportive looks. “I’ll be right back.”
Bailey nodded before turning to Randy. “The detective said you wanted a list of people we knew who were at the bar last night.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Bails.”
Bailey tried not to flinch at the casual use of his nickname, or at the fact that Randy leaned in close and… smelled him? Then he reached up and put his hand on Bailey’s neck, almost in the same exact way Logan had. But this time, Bailey wanted to shrug the gesture away.
“Sorry about what happened to Ashley. You doing okay?”
Bailey nodded, managing not to squirm away when Randy was only trying to be nice. “I’m fine.”
“You two know each other?” the other cop asked.
“Oh, yeah. Bails, this is Norman Vail. He’s my partner. Norm, this is Bailey Cairn.”
Randy’s partner’s name didn’t match his face. He looked deceptively young—too young to