Be Afraid (Morgans of Nashville 2)

Do you remember me?

“No one seems to remember her.”

A frown furrowed deep creases between his eyes. “I would have remembered a kid reported missing. I always remembered the child cases.”

She straightened her shoulders, knowing she’d been one of those child cases. Just ask him!

“Yeah. They’re the worst.”

Folding his arms, he cocked his head. “Georgia told me you were born in Nashville?”

So Rick and Georgia must’ve talked about her. “That’s right.”

“Why come back?”

She wasn’t fooled by the easy questions. She’d bet he’d played good cop back in the day. “Asked myself that question a lot.”

“I was a cop long enough to know when someone is searching. What’re you searching for?”

A breeze caught the music from the honky-tonk’s open door and sent the sounds swirling around her. Her heart thudded faster and faster in her chest. “Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t.”

“Both, I suppose.”

He rubbed his hand over the line of his jaw. “You can talk to me, Jenna. I’ve got no dog in the fight.”

She reached for a chalk and started to draw the outline of a face. “I bet there’re places in your past you don’t want to look.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “You’ve been asking around about me?”

“No.” She’d not asked but had read up on him shortly after she started drawing here. He’d appeared in quite a few newspaper clippings. There’d also been articles about Georgia, Deke, and Rick. And if she dug deeper, she knew there’d be articles about her. She’d been unable to muster the courage to read those accounts.

His breath rushed, carrying with it words he rarely spoke. “There was some crap last year in my life. A person I trusted turned on me. Tried to hurt people I love.”

His story had been covered in the paper. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Do my best to pretend it never happened. As much as I deny the memories, they find me when I least expect it.”

Shadow Eyes. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected that specter to haunt her. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “So what do you do?”

He shoved out a breath as if expelling poison. “Come here to work. Sometimes I drink.” His gaze narrowed. “What do you do?”

That teased a bitter smile. She almost denied she had troubling memories and then heard herself say, “I draw.”

“What do you draw?” She focused on the sketch, quickly drawing KC’s nose, lips, and finally his eyes.

“You draw me?”

Smiling, she handed him the picture. “No, I draw this.” She flipped through several pages in a sketchbook until she reached a page filled with dark, penetrating eyes.

He grabbed reading glasses from the breast pocket of his shirt and adjusted them on his nose. “Eyes. Who’s that supposed to be?”

She traced the bottom edge of the page. “I have no idea. But the image won’t leave my mind.”

“Is it attached to one of your cases?”

“I’m not sure where it comes from.”

He arched a brow as he studied the picture. “Is that why you’re in Nashville?”

Yes. “Maybe. I think so.”

“Jenna, you aren’t giving me the whole story.”

A grin tipped the edge of her lips. “I’ll work up to it eventually.”

Before he could respond, a family with two blond girls stepped out of a barbecue restaurant and caught her eye. The girls were about five and six and wore matching pink shirts decorated with rhinestone guitars. The mother studied the easel and Jenna spotted her first customer of the night.

“Much as I want to chat, KC, I got a customer.”

He looked past her to the family. “They aren’t Rudy’s customers.”

“Ah, you know how it works. A couple of cute kids get their sketch done and folks stop and watch me draw. Before you know it, you got guys promising girlfriends they can have a picture. I always send the ones willing to wait into your place.”

A sly grin tugged the edge of his mouth. “It’s worked out pretty well.”

“Darn right. Now get back to work.” The order came with a smile, which had him rolling his gaze and calling her sassy before he vanished back into the bar.

The father of the family approached. “You open for business?”

He was a pleasant-looking guy. Midsize, dark hair, glasses, and a round belly. A very dad kind of guy. “You would be my first customer of the night.” She smiled at the mom, knowing she’d cinch the deal, not the dad. “I could draw them together.”

The mom brushed back long bangs hanging over deep-set eyes. “I doubt they’d sit together right now. They’ve been fighting for the last couple of hours.”

She studied the girls. Red cheeks and a couple of yawns told her she’d not have more than fifteen minutes to capture them on paper. “I’ll make it appear they’re together. You can even walk one around while I work with the other.”

The mom considered Jenna’s suggestion and then nodded. “Fair enough.” They negotiated a price and Jenna was soon sketching the younger of the two. Millie. She had large green eyes, a pug nose, and lips that curled up a little even when she wasn’t smiling. She was cute, but clearly not up for sitting still. Her mother sat on the stool set up for customers and held Millie on her lap.

Jenna talked about cowboy hats and guitars and songs as she quickly drew the girl’s face and outlined her eyes. She hesitated only briefly and then quickly finished the last details. No time to fret or worry. Just draw.

When Jenna had been in high school, she’d set up an easel in the Inner Harbor of Baltimore. With the waters of the Chesapeake lapping gently, she’d refined her portrait skills. She’d charged only a few bucks for the first drawings, but as that first summer had gone on, she’d gotten better and better. She’d even caught the eye of a guy representing an amusement park in Virginia. The park was two hours south of Baltimore, but the offer was too good to resist. She’d found someone to bunk with the following summer and had spent ten hours a day drawing. Drawing-crazed families at a park had honed skills that would later serve her well on the Force.

Jenna glanced at the picture of Millie and smiled. She could have spent longer, shading and refining, but forty bucks only bought so much detail. Next on Mom’s lap was the older sister who looked like a slightly older carbon copy of Millie.

“What’s your name?” Jenna asked.

“Sara.”

Jenna’s heart stilled for an instant. Memories of another Sara flashed in her mind. Her Sara wasn’t smiling but arguing with her father. “Leave me alone! You don’t understand!”

The memory fluttered away as quickly as it had come. “My sister’s name was Sara.”

The mother gazed at Jenna over her daughter’s head, clearly catching Jenna’s use of the past tense. “Did you two look alike?”

Jenna nodded. “Mom said we could’ve been twins if not for the decade separating our birthdays.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“A very long time. I was only five when it happened.” Emotion clogged her throat. She could never remember a time when she’d talked about Sara and here she was with a stranger opening up.

The mom hugged her Sara a little closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Sara nestled closer to her mother. Jenna ignored the tightening in her chest and focused on face, hair, and eyes and when it came time to draw the girl’s mouth she laughed. “You don’t want me to draw that thumb in your mouth, do you?”

The girl nodded. Mom pulled her thumb free and talked about eating an ice cream if she could smile. She smiled.

A crowd had gathered around Jenna as it did most nights here. Any other night and she’d have welcomed the scrutiny.

Jenna rolled up Millie and Sara’s portrait, put a rubber band around it, and handed it to Mom while Dad paid

her with two crisp twenties. Soon, she had a young girl sitting in her subject’s chair. The next couple of hours went quickly and she drew a half-dozen people. She’d earned nearly three hundred bucks. A nice haul.

It was nearing ten and her hands and back ached. She rose, ready to pack up and call it a night as a man approached. “Still open for business?”

She looked up into a lean, rawboned face with blue eyes that cut and pierced. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about Shadow Eyes in her sketchbook. “Sure.”

She searched around for a girlfriend. Most men didn’t sit for a picture but were happy to treat their lady. “For you?”

“Yeah. Mom will love it.”

This guy had to be in his early forties so she didn’t picture him as the type worried about Mom but if life had taught her anything, sometimes a book didn’t match its cover. “Forty dollars for twenty minutes.”

He dug two rumpled twenties from his jeans pocket. “Sure, why not?”

She sat back down and he took his place across from her. She loaded a clean piece of paper on the easel, fastening it with binder clips. She reached for the charcoal and started to sketch the outline of his long, lean face. “So what brings you to Nashville?”

“I lived here all my life. I normally don’t get down to Broadway. Too many tourists but figured what the hell tonight. What about you?”

“New to the area.”

“From where?”

She didn’t mind asking the questions but didn’t like answering them. “Back East.”

He nodded. “You sound like an Easterner.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Where?

“D.C. area.” Give or take thirty miles.

“So what’re you doing tonight after you finish up here?”

She sat a little straighter. “I’ve got an appointment.”