Since then, Mason had returned to the cabin to check on Gary and Bill. He brought them to the clearing, where they all sat down exhausted. They’d both survived the blast, although Gary had taken most of the damage and ended up with a chunk of wood lodged in his leg. Nothing fatal, he insisted, but it hurt like hell.
Not a word was spoken for some time while Morgan kept his eyes on young Robin, who he’d wrapped in his jacket. He wondered if the events would have any effect on his psychology, or whether this was nothing but a series of loud noises he’d soon forget. At least Morgan would never forget it. Hell, he should be so lucky to forget. This was the stuff nightmares were made of.
“I called it in,” Gary said.
Morgan looked up.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to alter the events a little. As far as the official record will show, I’m the one who shot Erika.” He turned his head and began to look at her, but apparently thought better of it. “It’s my jurisdiction, so I’ll get the least heat for it.”
Mason grunted. “You taking the credit for my amazing shot?”
“You should’ve aimed for the head,” Bill weighed in.
“Well, I didn’t. Man, haven’t you learned anything?”
They exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Whatever they were talking about, Morgan didn’t care. After all they’d been through, he finally had his son back safe and sound. He had the men around him to thank for that, but somehow he didn’t think words would cut it. It was going to take a lot to make it up to them, and he didn’t know where to start.
But there was one thing he did know.
As they all sat on the edge of the ravine and watched the sun rise, the police were on their way. What they would find was four people who would all call themselves friends, and although one story went down as the official record, the truth about what happened to Erika Givens would remain a secret only the four of them shared.
And that secret would be their bond.
Chapter Forty-Eight
In the days that passed, there was surprisingly little media coverage. Morgan had to humor the press with occasional droplets of information, and the police sometimes asked for a little more, but the deadly events of that night were quickly behind them.
Bill had returned to San Francisco while Mason took up the couch in the Young household and waited for his car to be released. He stayed out of the way for the most part, occupying his time by taking long walks and checking out the local bars. Morgan still didn’t know much about the guy, but from the looks of things he was missing his family. Who wouldn’t? He’d been away from them for so long.
Eventually, the day came for him to leave. Mason got the call early on a Friday morning, and Morgan offered to drive him to the impound. They waited in silence as the sun beamed on their faces, nixing any hint of a cold breeze. Morgan spent the time wondering if they’d ever see each other again. Did he want to? Perhaps that was a question for another day, because right now he was just looking forward to getting back to his wife and son—they’d not had much privacy since the return from the cabin, and the time they did have was spent doting on their baby. Morgan didn’t want to miss another moment.
An officer finally brought the car around. Mason’s eyes lit up like he was reunited with an old flame. The officer killed the engine and climbed out, handing over a set of keys and asking him to sign a form. Mason did so while looking right through him, as if there was nothing but air between him and his black Mustang. Satisfied, the officer left and sealed the gate, leaving them on a short driveway that tailed onto a busy stretch of road.
Morgan felt uncomfortable in the silence.
“What will you do?” he asked, simply to lessen that discomfort.
Mason walked around the front of the car, brushing the hood with his fingertips until he reached the driver’s side. He stopped there, looking over the roof of the car with the excited eyes of a five-year-old boy on Christmas. “In San Francisco?”
“Yeah.”
“Go back to work, I guess.”
“Right. Catching the latest in an endless line of serial killers?”
“Something like that.”
Morgan smiled. “Do yourself a favor, will you?”
“What’s that?”
“Spend a little time with your family first. You probably don’t need me to tell you, but you only get one chance with them. It’s better to spend it with them rather than wishing you had. And speaking of which…” He glanced up and down the street. Goodbyes were one thing, but gratitude wasn’t always his strong suit. “I never got to thank you for what you did.”
Mason reeled back. “I owed you. No thanks necessary.”
“So… what? We’re even?”
“If you like.”
Morgan nodded slowly, the sun fading and letting the wind chill him. “Okay, if you say so. What happens now, then? Will you ever come back to Washington?”
“Probably not.”
“Don’t like it here?”
“It’s not my scene.” Mason opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat while Morgan came around and leaned in through the open window. “I’m more of a California guy, and my base is all set up. You should come visit sometime.”
Morgan considered this. It’d been a long time since they’d taken any real break from work, and if the offer was there to save money on a hotel and get a tour guide, then maybe it was worth thinking about. “Sure. I’ll talk to Rachel about it.”
“You do that.”
“Do you really think we’ll stay in touch?”
“Not so much. Why?”
Morgan shrugged. “You meet a lot of people in this line of work, and it’s hard to keep up with them all. I consider you a friend now, especially after what you did for us—for Rachel. I couldn’t imagine being without our son. You’re the reason we get to—”
“Stop.” Mason raised his hand. “I’ll contact you soon, all right?”
“Okay.”
Mason fed the key into the ignition and started the car. It boomed and echoed, then grumbled as he shifted the gears. He didn’t fasten his seat belt. “Take care of yourself. It’s good to know you.”
“You too. And tell your daughter there’s no charge.” Morgan stuck out a hand.
“Thank you.” Mason took the hand.
Seconds later, the Mustang peeled down the driveway and screeched onto the road. Morgan heard the gears shifting from here—a heavy clunk that gave way to the engine’s roar. As it vanished into the distance, Morgan wondered if he would ever see Mason again. He liked to think of himself as realistic when it came to these things; new friendships could always be made, and staying in touch was usually something people said but didn’t do.
All the same, he hoped he was wrong.
Because he’d found a friend in Mason Black.
No matter how different they were.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Look at that one,” Rachel said, pointing up at a floor-to-ceiling oil painting of an old plantation. Greenery and white flowers blanketed the space leading up to the building, with only a thin path dividing the rows. A man stood at the top of the porch with the door open behind him. It looked as though he was inviting someone in.
“Interesting take on trust,” Morgan said, skeptical.
Rachel turned to him. “Why so negative?”
“I didn’t mean to be.” Morgan sighed, squeezing the rubber handles of the stroller. “This whole case has just put my nose out of joint. You think the world works one way, and then it seems to tip you on your head.”
“I’m afraid that’s life in general.”
“You’re probably not wrong.”
They kept walking through the great, open halls of the art museum. It didn’t really interest Morgan—art was more Rachel’s thing—but he couldn’t say no to a family day out. God knew they needed it. Anyway, at least he got the opportunity to try and experience something that thrilled his wife. He was always looking for more chances like that.
As the day rolled by, so did his energy levels. Morgan was starting to find that he couldn’t make it through a whole day. Not since the incident. Whether that be because of stress or trauma, he didn’t know. It could just be the stress of being a father to a one-year-old. Whatever it was, it affected his mood, and as always, Rachel was there to pick up on it.
They got to the food court before she said anything.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
Morgan unfolded the high chair and hoisted Robin into his arms. Robin giggled and blew spittle over his hands while he was placed into the seat and equipped with a bib. “There’s not much I can say about it. I’m just feeling a little blue.”
“Feeling empty after all that excitement?”
“What do you mean?” He sat down and started mixing Robin’s food, leaning over to give him a reluctant first nibble. “There was no excitement on that night.”
Rachel crooked an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. It must have got the blood pumping.”
Morgan wanted to say it didn’t, but perhaps it did. There was nothing he wanted less than to be in a situation like that again, but he had difficulty denying it gave him a certain thrill. The thing was, cases like that didn’t come around too often, and if they did it was probably time to start looking for another job. “Is it wrong?”
“To enjoy the case?”
“I didn’t enjoy it. There was a lot at risk. I found it kind of traumatizing. Maybe there was a bit of excitement, you’re right, but I never want to go back to that. The whole time, I was thinking of you and how you’d react to it all. If something happened to Robin—”
Robin cackled beside him, pointing at the food.
Morgan resumed his duties. “You and I would never be the same.”
“That’s not your fault though.” Rachel leaned into a bag and produced a tub of celery sticks. She didn’t open them. “Sure, I asked you to make Erika pay, and I put a lot of pressure on you. I’m sorry about that. Truly. I was just dealing with my pain the only way I knew how.”
“Okay.” Deep down, Morgan had wanted Erika to pay too. It disgusted him to admit it, but he was glad she was dead. Sitting beside her lifeless body wasn’t easy, but that night felt like a blur now anyway. Not that it stopped the nightmares. “My point is, I don’t think I can do it anymore. I’ll have to look at something else.”
“Something else?”
“A different job.”
Rachel reached across the table and took his free hand. She looked into his eyes with all the love and knowing only a loyal spouse can give. For a moment, she looked like a teenage version of herself. “Don’t you dare switch jobs,” she said. “You enjoy what you do, no matter how much you make a fuss about it.”
“But—”
“No buts. Just take a little time and then review it again.”
Morgan pictured his life two, three, even four months from now. If he carried on as a private investigator, would this kind of lifestyle continue? In the past year or so he’d come toe-to-toe with three different serial killers. There was only so much a man could take. “I’ll think about it, then. All right?”
“All right.” Rachel smiled.
He really would think about it too. Keeping his job didn’t mean he had to take every case that came along. He just had to be more selective when reviewing them. The small amount of press attention he’d received had resulted in his business booming now anyway, so at least he got to pick and choose. The only real problem lay in knowing—he hadn’t known Mason Black would be in captivity, and he hadn’t known Erika would take it so personally when he saved him. This only made the choice harder; it was one extreme or the other.
Morgan finished feeding his son and then they continued around the museum, changing the subject back to more pleasant things. He tried to view the other paintings as something more optimistic, but no matter how hard he tried, all he could see was danger.
It was a part of the job.
Chapter Fifty
Six weeks later
He wasn’t exactly sure why, but Morgan was nervous about their arrival. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and he paced from one room to another just to keep busy. It was an odd feeling to anticipate something like this with such dread, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t excited too. It didn’t help that Robin was with a babysitter for only the second time in his life.
“Will you stop moving around?” Rachel said, laughing. She shoved a stack of paper plates into his chest and swept her arm around the dining room. “Here, why don’t you make yourself useful and distribute those?”
Morgan took them and grumbled, but he did as he was told. He spread them out evenly, leaving room for their four extra guests. The last one he set down was Gary’s—he’d be late as always, but that was okay. It was the other three that interested him right now.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Rachel’s footsteps echoed through the hallway and then the door popped open. There were greetings of joy and a whole lot of different voices, but Rachel’s was the only audible one. She was welcoming them.
Morgan stood up straight and adjusted his tie, watching the shadows creep along the hallway. They stretched out across the carpet, and Morgan couldn’t help but think of a monster coming to get him. Only it wasn’t a monster—quite the opposite, in fact.
Mason was the first one into the room, smiling with his teeth on show. He stormed toward him with an outstretched hand, shaking Morgan’s. “Good to see you again. Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks. Good to see you too.” Morgan forgot to smile, feeling flustered at the amount of people entering the room. Amy stood in the doorway with her arms folded, slipping a hand away to wave softly as she smiled. He hadn’t met their other guest yet, but she was nothing like he expected; she was tall and slender with the smoothest dark skin and sharp, piercing eyes. But they were pleasant eyes. The kind that made you feel like everything would be okay.
Mason spun around. “This is my wife, Diane.”
“It’s a pleasure,” she said with the perfect grin. “Truly.”
But Morgan felt as though it was really his pleasure. There was something kind and comforting about her, and it was no wonder Mason had fallen for her. Morgan stood back now, admiring them as a whole. They seemed to be the perfect family, and although he knew they’d had their problems, it felt like an unbreakable bond was present in the room.
“Don’t I get the pleasure of meeting young MJ?”
“He’s spending some time with my sister in New York for the weekend,” Mason said, turning toward Rachel. “Can I steal your hubby for a second? We have some important business to discuss.”
“Sure, use the office.”
Intrigued, Morgan excused them and led Mason upstairs to his office, which had seen no action since the events surrounding Erika Givens. He let Mason in and offered him a chair, then slung open the curtain. It screeched across the rail and sunlight bled in. “So, what’s this about? Nothing serious I hope?”
Mason clasped his hands over his stomach, leaning back into the chair. “Depends what you make of it. I was thinking, how’s work been for you lately?”
“Work? Uh, lazy. Why do you ask?”
“Because I might have something for you.”
“Oh.” Morgan pulled out the office chair and slumped into it, doing all he could to ignore the coat of dust over his closed laptop. “Dare I ask for more information?”
Mason paused and smirked, then looked around the room. “It’s a nice setup you have here. Personally, I used to rent an office across town. Made it easier for me to separate work from my personal life. That is, if anything could ever do that.”
“I know what you mean,” Morgan said, wishing he’d make his point.
“And here, there’s no room for a second desk.”
“Why would I need a…” Morgan thought he understood. “Oh.”
Mason watched his reaction, then ventured on. “I’m thinking about taking a step back from the SFPD. I’m getting a lit
tle older now, and it’s time I settled into something less stressful. Thing is, investigation is all I know. Diane and I have had the conversation, and she’s prepared to see how things go.”
The insinuation left Morgan with mixed feelings. Having only recently agreed with Rachel that he’d take it easy for a while, it was hard to tell which way to look at this. A partner could always be useful, especially when it came to delegating tasks, but what about the other difficulties? “Just to confirm, you’re suggesting a team-up?”
“I’m suggesting a partnership. Equal responsibility, equal pay.”
“But you live in San Francisco.”
“We could move.”
“I thought Washington wasn’t your scene?”
Mason laughed. “It’s not, but for the sake of a job, I can make allowances.”
“What will you do if I say no?”
“Probably think of something else.”
“Right.” Morgan mulled this over. Having a partner couldn’t be all bad, but he’d feel guilty shifting their whole family over here. On the other hand, he’d always liked San Francisco and wouldn’t mind spending some time there. What would Rachel think, he wondered? “Sounds interesting. Can I think about it?”
Mason nodded and stood. “Of course. Just thought I’d run it by you. A new venture.”
“Young and Black’s Investigation Agency,” he mused aloud.
“But I’m neither of those things.”
“It’s a little on the nose.” Morgan shrugged and stood with him, edging toward the door so they could return downstairs to continue his birthday celebration and so he could catch up with Amy and get to know Diane a little more. “Just give me a few days to think about it.”
“No problem,” Mason said, heading out the door. “No problem at all.”
Also by Adam Nicholls
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