Be Afraid (Morgans of Nashville 2)

“KC and I were talking yesterday about cases that weren’t solved because of time, money, or the science.”

Rick shifted his stance. “We’ve a cold case squad.”

“Doesn’t mean they couldn’t use a fresh set of eyes on their cases. And if we were our own group, we wouldn’t be limited to Nashville.” Her eyes danced as she nodded.

“Before you take this idea and start running, let’s see if we can solve this case.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He could almost hear the grinding of the wheels in her head. “What else do you know about Jenna Thompson?”

“Professionally?”

“Personally?”

Her grin turned wicked. “Rick, are you interested?”

“No. I just sense there’re pieces missing to that puzzle.”

Nodding, she didn’t discount his statement. “I did a little digging with Baltimore. She’s had a distinguished run with them. Went to high school there. Some college. All good. No trouble.”

Absently, he scratched at the beer label with his thumb. “Why’d she take leave?”

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, she and her partner took a call to a run-down part of the city. They found a little girl locked in a closet. She was alive but she was in rough shape. Seems she’d been in the closet for months. Jenna quit two days later.”

A case like that couldn’t have been easy. “When was that?”

“Almost four weeks ago.”

“And she moved to Nashville three weeks ago. She pulled up stakes pretty quickly after the call.”

“The ones with kids are always hard.”

He’d been tempted to chuck it all after the shooting. A few times he’d been seconds away from packing up Tracker in his car and just driving. But his roots in Nashville ran too deep. “I couldn’t imagine leaving Nashville.”

Nodding, she picked up a tortilla chip from a bag on the counter. “A couple of the guys on her team were shocked when she quit.”

“How do you know?”

“I called in a favor.”

“I didn’t think you just skimmed the surface. What did you learn?”

“My buddy learned when he called her commander that she handled all kinds of nasty cases and never blinked. A lot of the guys thought she was bulletproof. And then this case, and she splits.”

“Hit a nerve.”

“Seems so.”

Unanswered questions swirling around Jenna shouldn’t have mattered, but they did. Fact, they bugged the hell out of him. “She said she was born in Nashville. Spent the first five years of her life here.”

“Really?” She gobbled the chip and opened the stove and with oven mitts pulled out a pan filled with enchiladas.

The smell filled the kitchen, his stomach grumbled, and he realized he’d not eaten since breakfast.

She set the dish on hot pads on the counter. “I guess it would be pretty rude to dig into her past and find out what happened when she was five.”

He sipped his beer. “What makes you think anything happened?”

Georgia arched a brow. “Something happened.”

Great minds think alike. “How do you know?”

She held up her index finger. “A five-year-old leaves Nashville.” Her next finger rose. “Raised by an aunt in Baltimore.” Another finger. “Has a tough call involving a child and returns to a place she’s not seen in almost twenty-five years.” A fourth finger. “And then she’s busting a gut to help solve the case of a murdered five-year-old.”

“Wouldn’t be too hard to search cases from twenty-five years ago involving a young girl.”

“Bet you a dollar you find something connected to her.”

“It’s really none of our business.”

She laughed. “And you believe that line?”

“No.” Smiling, he drained his beer.

“Dig a little. It’s no skin off anybody’s nose and if you don’t find anything, then no one’s the wiser.”

“I will.”

Her head cocked. “You like her?”

“Like? That’s a strong word. I appreciate her work and she’s a good-looking woman. But I’m more curious than anything.”

She shrugged as she opened another tin of food. “I could not care less about the pasts of people I don’t like.”

He snagged another chip. “I don’t care about her.”

She leaned forward. “It would be okay if you did. Really. Nice to see you move on after Melissa.”

The mention of Melissa’s name soured his good humor. “Don’t go there. Not tonight. I want to be civil to Alex.”

“Understood. No sense in poking the hornets’ nests.” She pulled a serving spoon from a utensil drawer. “How long has it been since you and Alex really talked?”

“Right after Buddy died.”

“That’s too long, Bro. I met Melissa a few times. Hot, but not worth this kind of strife. You two are brothers.”

Which had made the sting of betrayal all the more painful. The sound of two cars pulling in the driveway was followed by the slam of car doors. Rick straightened. “Speak of the devil.”

“Be nice. If you don’t want to fight, eat.”

The front doorbell chimed. “Why ring the bell?”

“Respect. It’s your casa, Bro.”

Frowning, Rick moved to the door and snapped it open. He found Deke and Alex inspecting the rehab work he’d done on the front porch.

Deke turned first. The oldest of the Morgan children, he was tall, broad-shouldered, with a perpetual grim expression, a carbon copy of their father. Many of the old-timers on the Force still called him Buddy as if caught off gua

rd when they saw him. Twice divorced, Deke had moved into the house while Rick was recuperating. He’d blamed the move on decimated finances after his second divorce but he’d basically been keeping the place afloat until Rick could stake his claim. He’d happily moved back to the city last fall and was seriously dating a local attorney, Rachel Wainwright.

Alex shared his brother’s olive complexion and dark hair but he had a long, lean build that stretched to six foot three inches. He wore his thick hair short, his shirts starched, and his suits were handmade. Since he was a kid, all the Morgans had assumed Alex would not only run for public office but would land in the governor’s mansion before he turned forty.

Deke grinned when he made eye contact with Rick. “You’ve done a hell of a job with this place. How do you like living in the sticks?”

Rick’s stomach knotting, he accepted Deke’s hand and shook heartily. “Seems to suit Tracker and me. Never asked, but how was vacation?”

“Nice to get away with Rachel for a few days. No phones. No work.”

Rick barely heard the answer as he faced Alex and wrestled a surge of annoyance and anger. “Alex.”

Alex gave no hint to what was happening behind eyes as black as coal. He possessed an icy demeanor that had always made him very hard to read. “Rick. Place looks great.”

“Thanks.”

“I hear you closed the Diane Smith case,” Deke said.

Word was getting around about Jonas Tuttle, but Rick still had too many missing pieces to close the case in his mind. “Looks that way. We’ll see.”

“Any idea why the guy killed her?” Alex asked. He extended his hand to Rick.

Homicide had always served as neutral territory for the Morgans. No better way to dodge emotions than to dig into the latest murder. He accepted his brother’s hand and this momentary truce. Each squeezed hard, giving as good as the other before releasing the grasp. “He was stalking her for months. Acted out killing fantasies with a hooker. But why he chose Diane, I don’t know. And he had expensive camera equipment that would have been beyond his means.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to mark it closed,” Deke said.

Alex stood silent. He’d done his due diligence by breaking the first chunk of ice.