Cover Your Eyes (Morgans of Nashville 1)

Working her neck from side to side again she glanced back at the letters Rachel had left with her. Beside them were Annie’s lyrics.

She’d gone over the letters again and again and her first instinct had been that the letters were authentic. The shapes of the letters were consistent: a deeply grooved looping O. A flourish and tail on the A’s. Spacing between the letters, words, and lines were consistent.

Initially she’d thought this job was a slam dunk, but as she moved through the letters doubts bothered her. She couldn’t voice the niggling worries that kept her from calling Rachel with a confirmation.

She paced back and forth staring at the letters. “What is it about you, Annie, that is such a puzzle? Who were you?”

Picking up her phone, she called Rachel. The call went to voice mail and she left a quick promise to call tomorrow.

As she closed the phone, a loud bang outside had Lexis turning toward her door. She wasn’t expecting clients or guests this late at night. Naturally suspicious, she reached for the loaded thirty-eight she kept in the top drawer of her desk.

She moved to the door and looked through the peephole. No one was outside. She shoved out a breath and wondered if the raccoons had gotten into her garbage again. She’d just bought those new cans that were supposed to be critter-proof and it annoyed her that the same lingering pest problem had returned.

Gun at her side, she moved out the front door around the side of the house toward the cans. She was tempted to shoot the damn animal, which last week had ripped through her trash bags and spread debris around her land. But as she moved toward the cans, she realized that they were undisturbed. She hesitated, raising her gun again. If it wasn’t the raccoons, then what the hell had made that noise?

As she turned to retreat back toward the house she heard the rustle of leaves and then a swish through the air. Milliseconds later a blunt hard object smashed into her gun hand. The pain paralyzed her arm and her fingers twitched. The gun fell to the ground. Grabbing her hand, she tensed, ready to fight when a second blow caught her on the side of her head. Stunned, her cry sounded distant, more animal than human. She’d never felt such pain.

Lexis staggered and dropped to her knees.

Another blow caught Lexis in the shoulder.

Vision blurring, she glanced up at her attacker’s face and found it covered with a hockey mask and dark hoodie. She ticked through the people that might want her dead. The list wasn’t long but one was all it took. “Why are you doing this? I’ve got money. I’ll get it for you. Or you can take my car.”

A heavy silence lingered in the air and then her answer came in the form of another blow, which crashed against her knee. Her body crumpled within itself. Vision blurred to near black and her thoughts scrambled toward oblivion.

“You should have stayed out of my business,” a now-distant voice rasped. “Too nosy.”

Pain garbled and short-circuited basic thought. Lexis could not find the words for another question.

Another blow struck her across the shoulder. Pain fired. In the past, she’d always been able to see herself clear of any problem, but this one wouldn’t get fixed. She was gonna die.

Baby stood over the woman, savoring the frenzied panic in her eyes. Rational thought vanished, prompting another blow and then another. It was hard to stop. Energy zinged up through the rod into Baby’s arm with each blow.

Breathless and arms aching, Baby swiped a trembling bloodstained hand over the mask. “You should have kept your damn nose out of my business.”

Baby savored the rush of power. Such a thin line separated life and death.

Remembering the purpose for the visit, Baby turned from the body and entered the house, moving straight toward the lit desk where the letters lay strewn on the table.

Annie’s neat handwriting glowed under the examiner’s light. Lexis had written in the margins of her copies. Authentic. Match. Correct. And then a series of question marks on subsequent letters as if a puzzle plagued her.

What was the puzzle? What about the Annie letters had bothered Lexis? Mother would know. She always knew a lot more than she’d ever told. Mother’s lack of faith in Baby had been a constant source of anger and resentment.

A quick swipe of the hand and the papers were scooped up and crammed in the oversized jacket pockets.

“So much trouble for a bunch of damn letters. So much trouble.”

Out the door, Baby glanced at the crumpled, bloody body. Thoughts of Rachel swirled. She’d been quick, lucky tonight. Baby had underestimated her, thinking she’d be as easy as the other one. But Rachel had moved fast, pivoting out of the way and then screaming all to bloody hell. But failures were lessons not to be wasted but absorbed. Regret was for fools. And that was why Lexis Hanover’s first blows had been quick and crushing. Not enough to kill, but enough to send crippling pain through her body. The fun rested with the screams, the struggles and the knowing that blinked in the victim’s eyes as death approached.

Mother would be glad to have the letters back but would be angry that Baby had tried and failed to kill Rachel.

Baby didn’t want to tell Mother about Rachel and see the disappointment in her eyes.

Baby moved away from the cabin. The idea of keeping Rachel’s attack a secret initially weighed heavily. But as the seconds and minutes passed, Baby grew accustomed to the burden. The secret grew lighter and became more treasure than worry.

Mother kept secrets. And now so did Baby.

Rachel had gotten away. She’d been clever. But Baby would be smarter and faster the next time.

December 1

Sugar,

Or should I say Dirty Boy. You have dark, dark demons driving you. They scare me. They thrill me. And I have to say your darling Annie understands you better than anyone. And you are smart never to forget that.

A.

Chapter Nine

Sunday, October 16, 9 AM

No doubt Rachel Wainwright had a list of folks who’d like to do her harm, Deke thought as he parked the car in front of the diner. But the list of people who would actually try to kill her had to be much smaller.

He stared at the diner where Margaret Miller worked. She’d been so angry with Rachel at the vigil she’d thrown a punch. But had she been mad enough to return and attempt murder?

Out of the car, he moved up the brick sidewalk and through the front door of the Blue Note diner. It wasn’t an upscale place but the parking lot remained full around the clock. Bells jingled overhead and he found himself about sixth in line for a table. He moved past the line to the greeter, a tall redhead with pale skin and eyes lined with dark makeup. He showed her his badge. “I’m looking for Margaret Miller.”

“She’s working right now.”

“I’d like her to take a break, if you don’t mind.”

“Is this super important? Sunday breakfast is our busiest time.”

He summoned a smile he suspected did not look that friendly. “It’s important.”

She scrunched up her mouth in disapproval. “Give me a minute.” She left her station and vanished into the crowded restaurant.

Minutes later a harried Margaret Miller pushed through the restaurant. “What’s this about?”

Aware that the line of patrons now watched his every move he showed Margaret his badge. “My name is Detective Morgan and I’m with Nashville homicide. Can we talk?”

She smoothed a stray strand of hair flat and shrugged. “Sure. There’s a room in the back.”

“Lead the way.”

He followed her through the restaurant and kitchen into a back room equipped with a small table and four chairs. An overflowing ashtray set on the edge of the table.

From her apron pocket she pulled out a rumpled pack of cigarettes and a green plastic lighter. She quickly knocked a cigarette free and lit it. “What’s this about, Detective Morgan?”

“Rachel Wainwright.”

“I thought as much. This about the punch I landed on her smartass jaw

the other night?” She arched a brow. “I thought she wasn’t going to press charges.”

“She’s not.”

She inhaled deeply and slowly released the smoke. “Then what’s this about? If I ain’t in trouble I got to get back to work. I’m losing money standing here.”

He stepped to the side, blocking her exit. “Where were you last night?”

A thin trail of smoke drifted past narrowed eyes. “What’s it to you?”

Margaret Miller wasn’t the befuddled, damaged creature he’d first imagined. “You can answer me now and I can be polite or you can answer my less polite questions at the station. Doesn’t make the least bit of difference to me.”

She frowned, determination festering. “You can’t arrest me. I ain’t broken a law.”

“Tell me where you were last night.”

“I didn’t get off work until eight p.m. and then I went home, watched a movie, and ate cake. It was my mother’s birthday on Friday and I had leftovers with cake.”

“That so?”

She nodded, her gaze not as resolute. “She always loved her birthdays. We always celebrated by going to the movies and eating cake. So that’s what I did.”

“Must have been an emotional day for you. All those memories.”

“Sure. It’s never easy. She was my best friend, the last one I could trust. She and I understood the pain of losing Annie.”

“Did anyone see you at home?”