Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

“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.

“Marlowe’s doing a hell of a job hiding his anger,” Jake said. “If he were alone with her now, I think he’d beat the hell out of her.”