“Probably not, but I’m keeping my eye on things. This is a rural area. I can’t imagine there’ll be a whole lot of traffic at this time of night.”
Morgan shifted in her seat and looked out the back window. In the distance, headlights cut through the darkness. Jackson was probably right. It was probably nothing, but fear shivered along her spine and her pulse picked up speed. “Do you think there’s any way we were followed from the airport?”
“I wish I could say I didn’t, but I’m not sure. Cody’s clients had money at their disposal. It’s possible someone was waiting at the airport for us to arrive.”
“Maybe you can get his parents to give you access to his work files,” Morgan said. “If we had a list of his clients, we might be able to pare it down enough to find the person responsible for his death.”
“I’ll call them tomorrow, and if they refuse to help, they may change their tune for the police.”
“I’m sure they will. The Bradshaws have always been completely cooperative with the police.”
“What about the business partner?”
“Sean?”
“Yeah. Would he have had an account log?”
“Probably.”
“Any idea what happened to it?”
“I imagine everything of Sean’s was given to his parents.”
“He wasn’t married?”
“No. I don’t think he was even dating anyone when he was…when he died.”
“Do you know his parents?” Jackson asked, his voice tight, his gaze jumping to the rearview mirror again.
Was the car getting closer?
Morgan glanced out the back window.
It seemed like the headlights were closer, but maybe that was just her imagination working overtime. “I never met Sean’s parents. I think they lived in New York, but I’m not even sure of that.”
“We’ll find out. See if we can get any information from them, but first let’s lose the car behind us.”
“You think they’re following us.”
“I think I’m not going to take any chances.” He turned off the headlights, plunging the road into darkness.
“What are you doing? We’re going to drive off the road!”
“That’s exactly what I’m planning. There’s a dirt road up ahead on the right. We’ll take that, turn off the engine and pray whoever is behind us goes right by.”
“How can you see the road? It’s black as pitch out here.”
“I can see just fine.” As if to prove his point, he turned sharply, bouncing onto what could only be the dirt road. Something scraped against the window near Morgan’s ear, and she jumped, barely managing to hold back a scream.
“Relax. It’s just a tree.” Jackson patted her knee, the heat of his touch spreading through her, but doing nothing to ease her icy fear.
Jackson cut the engine, plunging them into darkness so complete Morgan could feel it pressing in on her, stealing her breath and her thoughts. Darkness had never been her friend. Not when she’d been a scared kid, not when she’d been a rebellious teen and certainly not now.
She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow her racing pulse. She was a thirty-year-old woman, and she needed to get control of herself. There was nothing to fear.
Not yet.
But if the person in the approaching vehicle really was following them, there would be.
She tensed as the quiet chug of a car engine broke the silence, faint but growing louder. It could be anyone, but Morgan’s thundering heart was shouting that it was danger. She wanted to shove the door open, race out into the night, find a place to hide.
Jackson’s hand slipped around hers, and he squeezed gently. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that.”
“No, but I’m choosing to believe it.”
He squeezed her hand again, and Morgan didn’t even try to pull away. Just sat still and silent as the car drew closer, its headlights illuminating the road. Was the driver looking for them? Would he see their car parked off the road?
Please, God, I just need a little more time.
To spend with the people she loved, to find those she was missing, to be a better person than she’d been during her marriage to Cody.
The prayer filled her mind and her heart, and she imagined it pushing through the oppressive darkness, flying up to the feet of God, echoing the prayers and petitions of millions of other souls.
Did God hear?
Did He care?
Morgan didn’t know.
Maybe she didn’t need to.
Maybe, like Jackson, she must simply choose to believe.
ELEVEN
Morgan’s hand was cool and dry, her body stiff with fear as the car approached. Jackson slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He could feel her tension, hear the harsh rasping of her breath as the headlights drew closer.
“Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing the soft hair near her ear. He could imagine doing the same in other circumstances. Imagine allowing himself to inhale the sweet, berry scent of her shampoo, run his fingers beneath the hair at her nape, feel the warmth of the skin there.
That worried him.
He was crossing a line he’d never crossed before. Not when he’d worked as a beat cop, not when he’d worked homicide and definitely not while he’d been working for Kane. Business was business, and he didn’t believe in mixing it with anything else. He’d seen too many men and women go down that path. Usually with disastrous results.
Yet he was sitting in a dark car, holding Morgan and imagining different circumstances, other moments with her.
He frowned, tracking the approaching car as it slowly moved along the road, forcing himself to ignore the warm yielding weight of Morgan’s shoulder as she pressed in close.
The car was coming too slowly.
It didn’t seem to Jackson that the car was going more than twenty miles an hour. Way under the posted sixty-miles-an-hour speed limit.
It could mean nothing or it could mean that the driver was looking for something. Or someone.
“He’s driving awfully slowly,” Morgan whispered, as if somehow her words could carry outside the car and to the ears of whoever was driving the car.
“I was thinking the same.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Wait.”
“For how long?”
“Until he passes.”
“He could pull over.”
“He could.”
“I guess you’ve got a plan if that happens.”
Not a good one, but Jackson didn’t think sharing that with Morgan was the best idea. “Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
“I’ve never been good at waiting.”
“Looks like you won’t have to be. He’s already passed.” Jackson leaned toward the window, trying to catch sight of the passing car’s license plate. The foliage and distance prevented a clear view, and he pushed open the car door.
“What are you doing?” Morgan grabbed his hand.
“Going to see if I can get a look at the license plate.”
“What if he sees you?”
“How will he? It’s pitch-black, and he’s looking ahead, not back.” He eased his hand from hers and stepped out of the car. Chilly night air seeped through his jacket as he jogged to edge of the road and pressed close to a stand of tall, narrow evergreens. If the driver looked back, all he’d see were trees.
Up ahead, the car was rounding a curve in the road, its headlights bouncing off a rocky outcrop that led to a steep incline. Even with a clear view of the vehicle, it was impossible for Jackson to read the license plate. He was too far away, and the letters and numbers were nothing more than a dark smudge.
Behind him, the car door opened and the pad of feet against dirt and grass filled the silence. He didn’t turn, just waited as Morgan approached, feeling her presence before she spoke.
“Did you get it?”
“He was too far aw
ay.”
“What now?”
“Now we get back in the car and drive to your aunt’s house,” he said, starting to turn away from the road, then freezing as headlights appeared near the outcrop of rocks, splashed onto the road and continued toward them.
He grabbed Morgan’s hand, nearly yanking her off her feet as he raced back to the car. “Get in.”
“Do you think—”
“Get in!” He gave her a gentle shove, then followed her into the car, slamming the door shut. “Duck down.”
This time she didn’t question him, just sank down low, her face a pale oval in the darkness. “Was it the same car?”
“I don’t know,” Jackson responded, peering up over the seat. He doubted the headlights would fall on their car, but he couldn’t be sure. The approaching vehicle was coming from a different angle, and Jackson braced himself as the car’s headlights illuminated the road a hundred yards from where they sat.
Was it the same car?
Maybe, but this time it came more quickly, flying past so rapidly, Jackson only had time to note the size and dark color. Both were similar to the vehicle that had passed a few minutes ago, but that didn’t mean they were the same.
It also didn’t mean they weren’t.
This time, he didn’t wait. As soon as the car was out of sight, he started the engine of the rental and pulled back onto the main road.
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I don’t even know if it was the same car.”
“I need to find that disk,” Morgan muttered more to herself than to Jackson.
“We will.”
“Whatever is on it, it’s got to be something big.”
“Or something not so big that has the potential to ruin someone.”
“Like?”
“Tax fraud. It’s not capital murder, but getting caught can sure ruin a life.”
“Do you really think it’s that simple?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. Maybe some of Cody’s clients wanted to hold on to a little more of their earnings than they should have.”
“What if they did? It doesn’t seem like a crime worth committing murder to hide.”
“I guess that depends on who you are and what you’ve got to lose.”
“So, we need to figure out who Cody’s clients were and then decide who had the most to lose?”
“It’s a start.”
“It’s funny, I was married to him for six years, and I had no idea Cody was so corrupt. Or maybe it’s not so funny. Maybe it’s just sad.”
“You’re not the first spouse who’s wanted to believe in her partner. I’ve worked for a lot of men and women who desperately want to believe that the person they married is the dream they fell in love with.”
“The problem with dreams is they’re always much better than reality.”
“You think so?’
“You’re asking a woman who was married to a man who murdered his business partner and lied about the reason why.”
“I’ve been wanting to bring that up. I’m glad you did instead.”
“What?”
“Cody’s reasons for murdering Sean.”
“He said the two of us were having an affair, and that the crime was one of passion. He lied.”
“So you and Sean—”
“—Were good friends. Nothing more. As a matter of fact, the only time I saw Sean was when I visited the office or when Cody invited him over for dinner.” Morgan sounded completely at ease with the discussion. In Jackson’s experience, people who were lying were a lot more eager to change the subject than Morgan seemed.
“Why would Cody lie about something like that?”
“To save his hide. He probably thought he could get convicted of manslaughter rather than murder.”
“That makes sense, but what it doesn’t do is explain why Cody would murder his business partner. They were friends, right?”
“Since high school.”
“And they went into business together right after college?”
“About a year later. Cody was working at a firm in Seattle, and Sean had moved to New York. The idea of opening a business came up at our wedding. I guess they discussed it at the reception, and by the end of our honeymoon, Cody had decided it was a great idea.”
“Had you?”
“What?”
“Decided that Cody and Sean’s business was a good idea.”
“I wanted to support my new husband. So, yes.”
“So, you didn’t think it was a good idea, but went along with it to support your husband.”
“I’m not that weak-willed, Jackson. Cody made a good case for the business, and I could see that it would benefit us financially. Which it did.”
“But you weren’t happy.”
“For a while I was. New York was exciting and different.”
“How about Cody? Was he happy?”
“As happy as he ever was.”
“That answer begs another question,” Jackson said, following the tinny GPS voice and turning onto a narrow, rutted road that led toward distant mountains.
“Cody wasn’t a contented person,” Morgan said. “He was always looking for something new and different. Something more than what we had.”
Which sounded a whole lot like Cody was a murderer, a liar and a cheat. Jackson didn’t ask what he wanted to ask. Were there other women? Other reasons why Cody may have wanted to maintain a high lifestyle? Why he may have been willing to blackmail clients for more money to support his spending habits?
There was no doubt that Morgan had thought of those things. She was a smart lady and, as she’d said, she wasn’t a push-over. What she was was a woman who’d wanted the dream. The husband, the kids, the happily-ever-after. She hadn’t gotten them, so she’d made a new dream for herself. An art gallery in a small town far away from the life she and her ex had. Too bad that hadn’t been enough to keep her safe.
He glanced at Morgan, saw that she was staring out the side window, her dark hair hiding all but a sliver of pale cheekbone. Did she regret her marriage? Did she wish she could go back and undo what had been done? Or was she simply putting those years behind her, moving forward without regret?
More questions Jackson wouldn’t ask.
What he needed to focus on was the relationship between Cody and his business partner. Murder happened for a reason. Sometimes it was a crime of passion. Other times, it was carefully plotted out in the hope of hiding a crime or getting revenge. “Did Cody and Sean get along as business partners?”
“Usually.”
“Were there specific things they didn’t agree on? Maybe the way the business was being run? The direction it was headed?”
“To be honest, after the first few years, I didn’t pay much attention to Cody’s business. If he and Sean were disagreeing about it, I wouldn’t have known.”
“So, you were completely surprised when you found out that Cody had murdered his partner?”
Morgan’s silence said it all, and Jackson waited it out, the dark landscape flying by for several seconds before she finally spoke. “I’d like to say I was, but I can’t. Not if I’m going to be completely honest. The morning Sean was found dead in his office, I wondered.”
“If Cody had killed him?”
“I don’t think I could have verbalized it, but, yes.”
“You were already separated.”
“We were, but it wasn’t just sour grapes making me want to point a finger in his direction. Cody had been unhappy for a few months before I left him. Touchy. Angry. Really difficult to be with. New Year’s Eve, just a few weeks before Sean died, we were supposed to go to Sean’s house for a party. I was dressed up and ready go, filled with all kinds of hope for the coming year. Cody and I had had a tough few months, but I’d resolved to try harder to make things work.”
“I guess that didn’t happen.”
“It might have if he’d bothered coming home. He called to say he’d
been held up at work. Told me he’d be home in an hour. I waited three, then packed my bags and walked out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was way past time. I’d been clinging to a dead thing for too long. Mom and Aunt Helen kept telling me that, but I refused to listen. Maybe I just wanted to prove to everyone that I hadn’t made a horrible mistake when I married Cody.”
“Maybe you were just a lot more loyal than your ex-husband was.”
“Maybe so, but it doesn’t matter. I finally did what I should have years ago and walked out. Less than a month later, Sean was dead.”
“Seems like your leaving gave your ex-husband the perfect motivation for murder.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think it’s coincidence that you left him and a few weeks later he killed Sean?”
“I hadn’t ever thought about it.”
“So let’s think about it together. Your ex acts like a jerk for a couple of months, doesn’t show up to take you to a New Year’s Eve party. Sounds to me like he had something on his mind. Something big.”
“Really? To me it sounded like he had someone on his mind. And she wasn’t me,” Morgan responded wryly.
“That’s the obvious answer, and maybe it’s the right one. But let’s say it isn’t. Let’s say something else was going on. Maybe trouble between the partners. Maybe Cody doesn’t like the direction Sean is taking the business, or vise versa. He wants to get rid of his problem, but he’s afraid he’ll get caught.”
“How would me leaving change that?”
“He wants Sean dead. He doesn’t want to get caught, but he’s smart enough to know he might. He’s banking on getting away with murder, but if he doesn’t, he needs an excuse that could keep him from being put away forever.”
“A crime of passion rather than cold-blooded murder?”
“Exactly. Murder is murder, but in the eyes of the law motivation and premeditation play a big part in deciding the punishment.”
“I didn’t realize that.”
“I bet Cody did.”
“Either way, he’d be in jail.”
“Yeah, but in the second scenario, he’d be in jail for a lot less time with the option of early parole for good behavior.”
“Maybe I’m just too tired for this conversation, but I still don’t see what difference that would make. Caught is caught, after all. And jail is jail. Besides, Cody was arrogant enough to believe he wouldn’t be caught.”
Running for Cover Page 10
