Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville)

by Mary Burton

  “You are a dog on a bone.”

  His eyes darkened. “When you’re in my sights, I don’t stop until I get what I want.”

  Electricity surged inside her. “Good to know.”

  He grabbed a handful of nuts. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, I can’t.”

  A surprise jolt of disappointment zapped her gut, but she covered with a wide smile. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  “You don’t know her.” He winked and popped a nut in his mouth. “See you in the salt mines on Monday.”

  She held up her glass filled with melting ice. “You bet.”

  He turned and left the bar, leaving her annoyed and deflated, something that never happened when she just stepped off the stage. “He just played me, ass.”

  KC refilled her glass. “So what’s got you all sour faced?”

  “Jake Bishop. That guy can really piss me off.”

  KC laughed. “Really, you hide it so well.”

  “Hush up.”

  “He’s a hell of a guy, Georgia.”

  “He’s a hound dog. Always looking for the next woman to bed. I bet a mob of angry husbands and boyfriends chased him out of Boston.”

  KC’s expression sobered. “You really don’t know why he left Boston?”

  “No. Should I?”

  He pulled the bar rag from his shoulder. “He was engaged to be married. Fiancée’s car was hit by a drunk driver who left the scene. She was killed. Jake was Boston PD then, but that didn’t stop him from finding the guy and beating the hell out of him. He would have killed the guy if his brother hadn’t pull him off.”

  “Damn.”

  “That’s only half of it. The hit and run driver was a mob boss’s son, but the boss told Jake the boy deserved the beating. But touch him again and he wouldn’t spare Jake’s life or the lives of his family. Jake knew if he stayed in Boston he’d see this prick again and would kill him, so he did what was best for all and left town.”

  “Wow.” It was no secret that Jake had a temper and kept it on a short leash.

  “Cut the guy some slack. It’s clear he’s got the hots for you.”

  She held up her glass for a refill. “It will pass.”

  “Oh, it sure as shit won’t. Guy could not take his eyes off you while you were singing. Completely mesmerized.”

  * * *

  Amber’s stitches itched but her headache had passed and she was feeling much better. Especially now that she was staying at the Reeds’ house. She could get used to a soft bed, fancy food, and a view of the lake behind the house, which she enjoyed while sipping morning coffee. This was the kind of life she deserved. This was the kind of life she wanted.

  Mrs. Reed had gone to bed at nine but Amber couldn’t sleep. As the minutes ticked by, she became more and more restless, realizing her return to Nashville was not going as planned.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tuesday, October 10, 11:00 A.M.

  The medical examiner released the remains of Bethany Reed and Mike Marlowe on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Jake visited Marlowe again and convinced him to hold the services together. A combined service might be too much for the killer to resist. By Monday, Mrs. Reed finalized plans for the funeral, which would honor both children. Mr. Marlowe’s only input had been the venue, which he insisted be held in the stadium-sized Baptist church near St. Vincent.

  During the time leading up to the funeral, Georgia filled her days to overflowing. She visited Amber at the Reed house and found her doing well. She continued to review the files, searching for something that might break the case. As tempted as she was to call the lab every day for DNA results, she resisted. She even made time for lunch with her sisters-in-law for the final, somewhat torturous, fittings of their bridesmaids’ dresses.

  Now as Georgia walked into the police department in high heels and a black dress, she thought about Jake and wondered about his weekend date. Which lovely woman had he chosen to take out or warm his bed? The unexpected thought jabbed her like an elbow to the ribs.

  At Rick’s request, she arrived at the homicide offices early so that she could drive to the funeral with Jake and him. When she entered Rick’s office, Jake was there standing next to a bookcase fiddling with an old baseball that dated back to Rick’s high school days.

  Jake wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt, and a black tie. Broad shoulders, a straight-backed posture and the flawless suit held her gaze for a beat longer than it really should.

  Seeing him now, she freely acknowledged to herself that she missed the irritating and smartass questions. Wanting him was not smart.

  “Georgia,” Rick said rising. “Like the dress.”

  Jake set the baseball down and turned toward her. A hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Clean up nice, Morgan.”

  Annoyance mingled with pleasure. “Thanks. Feels weird wearing a dress, and I’m fairly sure these heels were designed by a sadist.”

  Jake’s gaze slid up and down the ribbon of muscle in her calf. He said nothing, but his look telegraphed a need to touch.

  Rick reached for his gun from his desk drawer and holstered it. “Is Amber coming to the funeral?”

  Georgia shook off thoughts of Jake touching her calves with his weathered hands. “She is.”

  Rick pulled his suit jacket from his desk chair and shrugged it on. “Is it really smart for her to be staying with Mrs. Reed?”

  “I don’t think so, but Mrs. Reed enjoys doting on her.”

  Jake tugged the front folds of his jacket in place and adjusted his tie. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  She shifted, her hand at her side fingering the soft fabric of her dress. As the elevator doors dinged open, Rick’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced down, shaking his head. “It’s Jenna. Let me take this. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Jake blocked the door open with his arm. “Sure. Take all the time you need.”

  As Georgia moved past Jake, the heat of his body rushed out to touch her. The two stepped into the empty elevator and the door closed behind them.

  He punched the elevator button. “You look sexy as hell. Gonna be hard to forget those heels the next time I see you in steel-toed boots.”

  She tugged on her dress. “Take a picture. These heels are about to be retired.”

  “Too bad.”

  As the elevator doors closed, his energy magnified in the small space. She glanced at her reflection in the scuffed stainless-steel door. Her red hair skimmed the tops of her shoulders and curled up slightly. She had taken the time to wash and blow-dry her hair this morning, something she rarely did. However, despite her efforts the rain had grabbed ahold of the strands and twirled them sideways into tighter curls. Damn. She wanted to make a good impression at the funeral, but the truth was she wanted to please Jake.

  “How was the date?” she asked.

  “Fun. You have a good weekend?”

  Chinese food. A very sad attempt at running a mile. Binge watching a comedy series. “Awesome.”

  He glanced at her, his gaze searching, intense. “Singing again soon?”

  “Who knows? The day job’s got most of my time this week.” She thought about him standing at the bar as she began her set. “Why’d you stop by Rudy’s the other night?”

  “KC wanted to run something past me. Nothing special.”

  She thought about what KC had told her about Jake’s fiancée. Of all the backstories she might have expected, that was the last. It added a dimension to the guy she didn’t expect. She admired him for starting over. Easy to give in to a bad temper, but much harder to walk away from a fight to protect those you love.

  The doors opened to the lobby and a group of officers talking. Jake waited until Georgia stepped off. A few minutes later, Rick strode out of the other bank of elevators. He glanced at them both as he tucked his phone back in the holster on his belt. “We need to get moving if we want to be there early.”

  Jake opened Georgia’s car door, causing her to stop, surprised. “Something
about heels, Morgan. Reminds me you’re a woman.”

  Maybe she wouldn’t retire the heels. “Thanks.”

  Georgia slid into the backseat, adjusting her dress, wiggling toes inside shoes that pinched. Rick and Jake both sat up front.

  “So you boys actually think the killer will show at the funeral?” she asked.

  Rick adjusted his rearview mirror and pulled into traffic as rain began to drizzle onto the windshield. “With all this media attention, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  Jake turned slightly in his seat so she could see his profile as he talked. “I’m betting the killer is there. He’ll want to revel in the damage he’s done.”

  “Do you think there’s also an element of grief?” she asked. “I’ve seen murderers weep with remorse after they’ve killed someone in anger.”

  “Sure, it’s possible,” Jake said. “I’ve been thinking about how the bodies were laid out in the cave. Both Elisa and Bethany’s bodies were carefully arranged. Hands crossed over the chest. Elisa’s face was covered. Bethany’s pendant hanging on the rocks to memorialize. All signs of regret.”

  “Mike didn’t kill Elisa,” she said.

  “No, he didn’t,” Jake said.

  “That leaves Amber. Or there was a fourth person in the woods the day the teens were attacked.”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “It’s anybody’s guess at this point.”

  “You said Mrs. Reed dotes on Amber,” Rick said glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see why she’s reaching out to Amber.”

  Georgia leaned forward in her seat. “She’s a link to her daughter. Hard to let go of something like that. And in her mind, Amber’s return to Nashville and the discovery of the bodies are somehow connected. Almost as if Bethany’s spirit reached out to Amber.”

  “That’s a load of crap.” Rick’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Grief does strange things to people,” she said. When she looked up, Jake’s gaze caught hers in the mirror before she looked out the window to concentrate on the light drizzle of rain dripping down the glass.

  They arrived at the church nearly thirty minutes before the ceremony, but the large parking lot was already filling. Lines of people carrying umbrellas were moving down the sidewalk to the large double wooden front doors where the minister stood and greeted people. Several news crews took up position under a tent so that they could film the mourners as they arrived.

  Georgia dug an umbrella out of her purse and opened it when she stepped outside the car. Rain pattered steadily as Rick took the umbrella and held it high so it covered Georgia as they moved toward the front doors of the church. They stopped to greet the minister, who stood under an overhang, unmindful of the rain dripping behind him.

  The minister caught sight of Jake’s badge on his belt as he shook his hand. “I’m glad law enforcement could be here. It’s my greatest hope that you catch the person who took those two precious lives from us.”

  Jake raised a brow while buttoning his jacket. “We’re here to observe so, if you don’t mind, please don’t mention our presence.”

  “Of course.”

  Rick shook off the umbrella and closed it before they moved inside. Georgia slid her sunglasses into her battered brown purse, wishing she’d swapped it for something nicer. “Good luck blending, guys You two look like the Men in Black duo.”

  Rick adjusted his jacket. “Bishop, where do you shop in this city? Everything about you screams somewhere else.”

  “The cowboy boots don’t help me assimilate?” Jake quipped.

  She glanced at the black polished boots. “It’s beyond me how you can get such a shine on cowboy boots. They’re supposed to be a little scuffed. Drugstore cowboy.”

  “I don’t wear scuffed boots,” Jake said.

  Rick shook his head. “And we rest out case. Let’s find an out of the way spot where we three don’t stick out.”

  Georgia slid into the back pew first and then Jake followed. Rick took the aisle seat.

  This close to Jake, his strong energy mingled with the faint scent of his aftershave. She’d always kidded him about the aftershave at crime scenes. But really, she’d appreciated the touch. A bit of humanity in some of the worst places.

  If he’d not lost his fiancée and he’d not made the decision to move here, she’d never have known him. She was glad he could tease her out of an occasional foul mood. Georgia knew she could be a pain in the ass, a fact few, including her brothers, called her out on. But Jake did. And that was okay.

  “Amber Ryder is here,” Jake said.

  Georgia leaned forward a fraction and caught sight of the young woman walking into the church with Mrs. Reed. She was wearing a slim fitting black dress that looked new and expensive and designer black shoes. Her hair had been cut and styled into a sleek curtain of hair that draped her shoulders and covered the small flesh-colored bandage on her forehead. Her nails were manicured, painted a vibrant red. All the pampering, she guessed, was Mrs. Reed’s doing.

  Seconds later, Dalton Marlowe entered the church. Dressed in a hand-tailored black suit, he moved with a stiff-backed posture. Several people stopped to shake his hand and share their condolences. He spoke to all, his demeanor oddly warm.

  He approached the front pew where Mrs. Reed sat with Amber to her right. Dalton looked down the row at Amber who smiled serenely up at him. He hesitated and then, as if aware that the eyes of the church and community were upon him, took the seat beside her. She leaned her head toward him, speaking softly. He did not talk or nod his head.

  “He’s wound up,” Jake said, trailing her line of sight.

  “I didn’t think he wanted to hold a joint funeral.”

  “I called him. Suggested we might find the killer if the funerals were held together.”

  “His hatred feels like overkill to me,” she said. “She has no power over him now that Mike is dead. He doesn’t have to worry about her getting knocked up with a Baby Marlowe and sharing holidays for the next several decades.”

  “He reminds me of a jilted lover,” Jake said.

  “Really?”

  Jake tugged his shirt cuff and leaned closer to her, dropping his voice so only she could hear. “There are rumors that the two were an item for a brief time.”

  “Mrs. Reed hinted at a relationship between them.” She shook her head. “She could be his daughter. The age difference has to be thirty years.”

  “And your point is?” Jake asked.

  “You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “I’m not defending the guy. But just because there’s snow on the roof doesn’t mean the boiler isn’t firing.”

  “Okay. Let’s say they were lovers,” she whispered. “She ditches the old man and goes for the son. That would sting the pride of a man like Marlowe.”

  “In spades. And he’s not forgotten it.” Jake tugged at his cuffs again. “Amber Ryder surprises me at every turn. I never know what to expect with her. One day she’s a waif and the next a vixen.”

  Both he and Rick scanned the crowds, looking for anyone that stood out. Anyone that lingered on the fringes or looked nervous. Even a bit elated or satisfied by the scene they had created.

  “He keeps an apartment in town,” Georgia said. “Maybe the doorman might remember something.”

  “Good detective work. I’ll follow up.” Jake inclined his head toward a tall, neatly dressed young man who found a seat several seats in front of them. “That’s Tim Taylor. He and Mike were best friends.”

  “I read about him. He planned to tag along with the three other kids, but at the last minute had to cancel. His mother got sick.”

  “He’s second-year law and clerking in a downtown firm.”

  She watched Tim and noticed he glanced several times toward the front pew where Mrs. Reed, Marlowe, and Amber sat. A lot of people were looking at the trio, but his demeanor projected an intensity matched by few.

  By the time attendants closed the back doors a half hour later, the place
had filled to standing room only. When the minister took his place at the front of the church and began the service, the congregation was silent. Many of the attendees looked as if they were in their mid-twenties and clearly must have been contemporaries of Bethany and Mike. Half of Nashville had shown up in big numbers to mourn the girl that had no friends and the high school jock.

  As the organist’s rendition of “Amazing Grace” began, the slow procession of two caskets commenced. One was large and made of mahogany with shining brass handles, whereas the other was smaller, made of cherry with silver handles. Both were draped with a blanket of white roses.

  Jake rubbed his chin, his dark eyes burning with contempt reserved for the bastard that did this.

  She found herself wondering what kind of funeral he had held for his fiancée. Had the church been packed? No doubt it must have been. Her death had been senseless. A tragedy.

  Was it possible to take comfort in knowing a loved one had never known what had hit her, that her last minutes had not been terrifying, as a killer squeezed life from body and soul?

  As if he read her thoughts, Jake glanced down at her, his jaw clenched, his gaze narrowed. Their eyes held just for a moment before he lifted them back to the minister.

  * * *

  Jake, Rick, and Georgia sat in their car afterward watching as the congregation emptied out of the church. First out were the children’s parents and Amber. As they all stood by the minister, Mrs. Reed reached out and hugged Marlowe and he in kind wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. When Mrs. Reed pulled back, Amber leaned over and put her arms around Marlowe. The gesture appeared normal. One person reaching out to another in grief. But Marlowe’s body stiffened at her touch and he made no move to touch her any more than necessary. She was slow to release him, as if she sensed her touch was torturous.

  On the church stairs, Amber and Mrs. Reed exchanged words while holding hands. Their smiles had a sad, lost quality and it was clear the older woman had a genuine affection for Amber, who kissed her on the cheek before they descended the stairs and slipped into a black limo.