Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

“No, he’s looking for a roll in the hay and I don’t need a quickie with a guy that will forget me before his pants are zipped.”

KC’s laughter rumbled. “Jesus, Georgia, ever thought that you might not be so easy to live with.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “No arguments here, KC. Not a one. Which is why I don’t need any more cops in my life.”

“You got him wrong, kid.”

She took a long sip of soda. When she was down to ice, she crunched a few pieces between her teeth. “Don’t care. My focus is the case and the case alone.”

“Have you found anything the old teams missed?”

“Nothing so far. They didn’t leave a stone unturned. And none of those guys gets any criticism from me. Hard to solve a case when you don’t have bodies, no suspects, and a witness with no memory.”

“You really think you can crack the case after all this time?”

She shrugged. “It’s only been five years. Maybe someone knows something and will talk. Maybe Amber Ryder will call me back and tell me she’s remembered something.”

Skepticism deepened the lines of his face. “Amber always said she never could recall a single detail about what happened in the woods.”

She fished through the nuts in the bowl searching for a cashew. “Her testimony was consistent throughout the police files.”

“She was a suspect, but her unwavering testimony won over a lot of cops.”

She tipped her glass up, drinking until she drained the last bit of liquid. “Could be as simple as she was telling the truth.”

“Could be.”

Carrie, a tall, thin waitress, wore a tight red Rudy’s T-shirt and figure-hugging jeans, placed a drink order with KC. “Georgia, long time no see.”

“Looking good, Carrie. How’s the baby?”

“Fat and happy. Two months old now.”

“Time goes fast.” Georgia noticed the dark blue bruise ringing Carrie’s forearm. Last she heard from KC, Carrie had broken up with the boyfriend that liked to pepper her with bruises. “You still seeing Hal?”

Carrie turned so the bruise was no longer visible. “Yeah. He loves the baby.”

“So much he puts bruises on her mother.”

Carrie’s skin pinked with embarrassment. “It’s not like that. Got this from an accident.”

How many times had Georgia had this conversation with Carrie? Too tired to argue, Georgia grabbed a napkin and a pen from behind the bar and scrawled her name and cell phone number on it. “When you and the baby are ready to leave, call me. You can stay at my place.”

Carrie shook her head, her eyes wide with panic. “It’s not like that. Hal loves me.”

“Put the napkin in your pocket. One day you might decide that love doesn’t have to hurt like that.”

Carrie crushed the napkin, but she tucked it in her jeans pocket before arranging the beers on her tray.

Nodding, Georgia flattened her palms on the bar, wanting to scream at the woman but unwilling to repeat what she had said a dozen times before.

A frowning KC filled the order. “Go on and get those served.”

“Sure thing, KC.” She offered them both an apologetic smile before she hurried away.

“Damn it,” Georgia muttered.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

A wry grin twisted her lips as she turned from the waitress now smiling at two middle-aged men dressed in flannel and jeans. “And you know it’s not legal to track old Hal down and run him over with a car.”

“No, it’s not.” No doubt KC had noticed the bruises and spoken his piece to the waitress.

“Yeah. Too bad.”

KC refilled Georgia’s glass.

Hard not to see what was coming. “Hal is gonna kill her or that baby one day. It’s a matter of time.”

“I’ve talked to her until I’m blue.” He rested his big hands gently on the bar.

“I know,” she said.

KC shrugged, chasing the fresh tension knotting his shoulders. “So when do you and Bishop start on the case?”

Crunching ice, she thought about the five calls from Bishop now on her voice mail. As she raised her glass to her lips, fatigue crawled up her spine and reminded her she’d not slept in over twenty hours. “Tomorrow. We’re meeting with Deke. He’s wrapping up another homicide.”

KC flipped a white bar towel over his shoulder. “Don’t you think you better get some sleep?”

“It would be the logical thing.” As Georgia slid off the bar stool, her brain hummed with nervous energy from the performance. A live gig always left her juiced and thinking she could run a marathon. Experience told her that the adrenaline crash would come in about an hour. Just enough time to get home and fall into bed.

Turning to leave, she caught sight of a t

all, slim, athletic woman with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. She wore an oversized sweater, jeans, and heeled brown cowboy boots. A backpack slung over her left shoulder, the woman approached Georgia.

She paused. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Georgia Morgan?”

“That’s right.”

“Amber Ryder. You’ve called me a couple of times.”

The name took her by surprise. “Wow, Amber Ryder. Sorry to looked so shocked. I wasn’t expecting you out of the blue like this. Or you to be so blond.”

Amber tightened her grip around the strap of her backpack. “I changed the hair a couple of years ago. New start.”

After the case of the missing teens hit the airways, Amber was besieged with reporters as well as haters who did not believe her story. According to police reports filed, bricks were thrown through her mother’s front window and she was harassed and chased several times. Some distrusted her. Some pitied her. But everyone, good or bad, had weighed in with an opinion about Amber Ryder. Finally, forced to drop out of high school, she homeschooled herself until a Good Samaritan offered her a scholarship to the University of Texas and she left Nashville for good.

“How did you find me?” Georgia asked.

“I called the station. They said you were singing tonight.”

She wondered who had given out her location to a stranger. Wondered who would get an earful.

“You said you’re reopening the case.”

Georgia rose off her barstool. “That’s right. We’re going to be treating the case as a homicide now.”

“You found the bodies?”

“Not yet.”

Amber nodded toward an empty booth. “Can we sit in one of the booths? I’m starving and could use a meal.”

“Yeah, sure.” Amber had done more than change her black hair to blond. Gone were the thick bangs and heavy eye makeup that made her pale skin look sallow, the multiple piercings in her left ear, and the half dozen rings on her fingers. Now, natural gold-blond hair and faint traces of mascara accentuated vivid blue eyes and a peaches-and-cream complexion as smooth as a stone.

Georgia caught KC’s gaze and noted the raised eyebrow. He was curious as well. Sights set on an empty booth, she led Amber to it and stood waiting until the woman lowered into the seat.