Be Afraid (Morgans of Nashville 2)

She quickly flipped more pages; aware he watched each page and sketch as they passed. When she found the page featuring the little girl, she carefully folded the sketchpad so that this was the only image he saw. She turned it to him, nerves biting at her. There was always a rush of worry when she showed any work for the first time. And for reasons she couldn’t explain she wanted Detective Rick Morgan to approve of this job.

A deep frown furrowed his brow as he reached for the sketchpad and then hesitated. “May I?”

“Yes.”

He lifted the sketch and studied the image. The little girl smiled back revealing an uneven crooked tooth. Her eyes were hazel green, her face round, and angel-soft hair haloed dimpled cheeks. She wore a soft pink collared shirt that enhanced her glow.

“She’s beautiful.” He spoke softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I can almost imagine hearing the sound of her laughter.”

The knot in her chest unfurled just a little. “I wanted her to be pretty because I think she must have been very sweet.”

“Why the smile?”

What he didn’t say was that he feared, as she did, that the little girl had had little to smile about in her short life. “She deserved to be seen by the world smiling. I’ve also another sketch of her. In that sketch I drew her with a closed-mouth expression. I realize she might not have been a happy child.”

He didn’t bother to flip the page but continued to stare at the smiling image. “This is excellent, Jenna. Really some of the best forensic art I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m one of the best.”

He lifted his gaze to her. “I believe it now.”

“You didn’t before?”

“If you were so good, why’d you end up in a bar seven hundred miles from home, drawing pictures on the street?”

She didn’t answer because she didn’t have a credible answer for him or for herself.

“I can’t believe you walked away from this.” When she opened her mouth to correct him, he held up a hand. “Took leave.”

A shrug.

He sat back in his chair and stared at her with a keenness he had to reserve for suspects. She realized he knew why she left Baltimore. Not surprising. Made sense that someone would check up on her. She’d have checked up on her. “Who did you talk to in Baltimore?”

His hand rested on the conference table, his thumb tapping. “Not me. Georgia. She’s a suspicious sort.”

That jostled a laugh. “Smart gal.”

Any humor evaporated like ice on a hot Nashville day. “Why the leave?”

She held his gaze, refusing to look away. She’d done nothing wrong. “Job just got to be too much. I couldn’t handle the pain anymore.” She sat back in her chair. “I needed to take a break and get my head together.”

He studied her, jaw clenched. “The Baltimore case of the little girl, that hit a huge nerve with you. Why?”

The door opened to Bishop and Deke who entered the room, shattering the tentative connection Jenna and Rick had forged. They rose.

Relief flooded her body. A moment ago, she’d been ready to drop her guard and talk to Rick. Openness was not a trait she enjoyed and she was glad now for the disturbance. She armored herself in as many professional layers as she could scramble around her.

Rick’s ease had also vanished. His was the expression of a man with much to prove to his brother, his partner, and himself. “Detective Deke Morgan, Jenna Thompson. She’s our forensic artist. As you may have guessed by the name, Deke is my brother.”

As Deke reached out a hand to her, she found herself cataloguing the similarities between Rick and Deke. “You two look alike. Is Georgia the outlier?”

The brothers exchanged a glance and then Rick said, “She’s adopted.”

Bishop’s expression held no hint of emotion but she sensed a keen interest in him.

“Like me,” Jenna said. “Explains the connection when we met.”

Deke studied her a beat but, without commenting, picked up the image and held it out so all could see. “Hell of a job.”

“Thanks.”

“Flip the sheet and you’ll see her with a closed-mouth expression,” Jenna said.

Deke turned the page and showed it to Bishop.

“I like the first better,” Detective Bishop said.

“Me too,” Deke said.

“We need to get the image out to the media,” Bishop said. “The sooner, the better.”

“Susan Martinez is on board,” Rick added. “We just need to get a copy to her and she’ll put it on air.”

“She said yes, just like that?” Deke asked.

Rick shook his head. “She’d like to interview Jenna. I didn’t commit.”

Jenna had assumed she’d be behind the scenes. It had never occurred to her she’d take center stage. “That really necessary?”

“No. But she said it would get the story more air time.”

Jenna had arrived in Nashville with little purpose other than to understand where she came from and why Ronnie had taken it all away. She had researched the town and her family through old news clippings, but she’d stayed under the radar, basically hiding behind her sketchpad. So stupid to come this far and hide. She was no coward.

Maybe now it was time to let Nashville know she was here. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Rick asked.

“She can interview me. Shouldn’t be that hard to explain what I do?” She looked like her mother and her sister. If Shadow Eyes was watching, he’d recognize her.

Rick shook his head. “I don’t fully trust this reporter.”

A smile tipped the edges of her lips. “I can handle her.”

Rick frowned. “It’s not necessary.”

“I know.”

Deke’s gaze lingered on the sketch. “Would you be open to doing another sketch? Budget’s going to be smaller than this one.”

“This one was for free,” Jenna said. “Can’t beat that price.”

Deke studied her. “Right.”

“Who am I drawing?” She tossed out the question, more interested in shifting Rick’s attention away from her.

“There’s an attorney, a public defender, in town. Rachel Wainwright. She has a new client who’s been accused of drunk driving. Rachel thinks there’re mitigating circumstances. Long story short her client says she was raped two months ago and has been suffering from PTSD.”

With the Lost Girl, she’d felt volatile. With this new witness, she held on to a healthy dose of skepticism. “Sounds like a ploy.”

“I would agree,” Deke said. “But Wainwright says the woman is telling the truth and Wainwright has a good nose for this kind of thing.”

She folded her arms and cocked her head. “Homicide detective working with a public defender?”

Deke’s craggy face lifted into a smile that almost looked friendly. “Yeah.”

Rick chuckled. “Give her the whole story.”

Deke shoved his hands in his pockets. “Rachel and I are dating.” The admission softened the detective’s features. Rachel had breached his armor.

“Ah.”

“Rachel is a tad driven when she thinks she’s defending the innocent,” Deke offered.

“Not easy to be around, right, Bro?” Rick offered.

“Just a bit.”

Jenna looked at Rick. “You don’t like her?”

Rick shook his head. “On the contrary. I respect the hell out of her. She stepped up for Georgia last year. Saved her life. So I’ll always be in her corner.”

Jenna waited for more explanation. She’d read the articles but knew there was more. When he didn’t explain, she didn’t push.

She’d never planned to stay here long, and then she’d signed the monthlong lease, accepted one assignment and now another. A simple no would have severed her growing connections to the town and this family. And still, she only shrugged and said, “Sure.”

“When are you available?”

“When is the witness available?”

&n

bsp; “She’s at Rachel’s office now. Rachel just got her out on bail.”

“Has Rachel got that look in her eye?” Rick asked.

Deke nodded. “She believes her client, no matter what the preliminary evidence says. She’s on a mission.”

Jenna didn’t want to go home and this was a good excuse to delay it. “I’ve got my kit in my Jeep. If Ms. Wainwright is open to a visit now, I’ll do it now.”

“I’ll call Rachel,” Deke said. “Her office is only blocks from here.”

“I’ll walk you over,” Rick said.

“Sure.” With care, she tore the images of the girl off the sketchpad and handed them to Rick. “She’s in your hands now.”