Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

Deke’s newly minted wedding band glinted in the light as he twirled it on his finger. “What do you think you’ll find this time?”

“I don’t know. But the testing is a little more fine-tuned than even five years ago.”

Jake ran his fingers down his Brooks Brother tie, absently making sure it was straight. “They find data now that’s so specific, the lab techs don’t even know what it means.”

Deke’s scowl deepened, accentuating the lines around his mouth and his eyes.

“You better than anyone, Detective Bishop, understand the value of fresh eyes,” he said. “This case is worth a second look. And with Amber now back in town, we might have a shot at solving it.”

“That case got thousands of looks five years ago. But Dalton Marlowe has political juice and it’s coming to a head.” Jake didn’t like being boxed into a corner but he understood better than anyone the power of a grieving overprotective parent with influence. “Five years. Tests change. People change their stories. It’s still worth a look.”

“How much time have you invested in the case files so far, Georgia?” Deke asked.

“Eighty hours,” she said. “All my spare time in the last few weeks. The sooner I get any test results back on DNA, the sooner I can develop new leads. I’m not on anyone’s priority list so it will take months.”

Deke’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “You’re preaching to the choir. I’ll rattle the cages.”

“Thanks.” Her grin was sweet and friendly and Jake guessed she used that same smile a thousand times since she was a tiny girl. She was expert at wrapping her big brothers around her little finger.

“That case was full of dead ends.” Jake liked the smile, but refused to be manipulated by it.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to those kids?” Georgia’s voice rose an octave.

“Sure. And I’ll give the case one hundred percent. But the search and investigation back in the day was pretty damn extensive.” Truth was he liked the idea of giving this case a second look. Two kids remained missing. His argument now was based solely on pissing Georgia off. He could dish out as well as he took from her.

“It’s a start,” she said.

“Retesting forensic evidence is a small but integral piece of the puzzle. Most cases are solved by a detective’s legwork.” Jake shook his head. “If this case is cracked, it’ll be because someone is now willing to talk.”

She was too professional to roll her eyes, but for him, she did anyway with a shit-eating smirk.

Jake shook his head as he looked directly at her. “You, Georgia, aren’t always nice to people. You’re about as subtle as a crowbar.”

A nod of acknowledgment lobbed his way. “I’m nice to some people.”

Deke laughed, but quickly caught himself and sobered his expression. “Your heart is in the right place, but you can be so direct that you put people off.”

She glared as if daring his smile to reappear. “I can’t help it if they have thin skins.”

Jake shook his head. “I’ll do the talking.”

“Bishop’s right, Georgia,” Deke said before she could rebut. “You’ll have to do more than read case files and retest DNA. Bishop excels at the interviews. Did you make a witness list while you were reading the case files?”

As much as she wanted to work this case alone she was smart enough to realize it would take them both. “I did. I also have a ten-page synopsis.”

“Perfect.” Deke rose. “You two work out the details and make something happen. Now get out of my office.”

In the hallway, she drew in a steadying breath. “How can you interview people if you haven’t read the files?”

“Get me your list and the synopsis and I’ll be up to speed enough to get the ball rolling.”

“You and Rick went nonstop for the last three days. Don’t you need a day off?”

Hearing a challenge, his white teeth bared into a mirthless smile. “I always have some gas in the tank.”

Her eyes sparked as if a thousand arguments crowded her mind, but she silenced them, fearing releasing one would toss the lid off Pandora’s box. “Sure.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bishop said, clapping his hands together.

Georgia’s frown deepened, but she didn’t complain. To her credit, she put the case before her feelings. She forced a smile, but it reminded him of someone who’d bitten into a lemon. “Detective Bishop.”

Jake watched her walk down the hall, tapping the roll of papers on her side. His gaze skittered briefly over her lovely backside that made regulation khakis look good before returning to Deke’s office.

“Top of my interview list is Amber Ryder,” he said from Deke’s doorway. “Interesting that she showed up instead of calling Georgia. From what I remember, she swore she’d never return to Nashville.”

“Yeah, talk to Amber, but take Georgia with you. She’s damn good at what she does, and I trust her instincts.”

“Between the two of us we just might solve this one.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Jake left Deke’s office and made his way down to the foren

sic offices where he found Georgia inventorying and restocking a crime scene kit. “Hey, partner.”

She stood in front of a clear fingerprint fuming chamber where a cup rested in the center. “We’re not partners.”

He couldn’t resist. “Deke wants us to talk to Amber Ryder.”

She opened a white packet of fingerprint developer, which was basically superglue, hung it in the chamber, and closed it. The packet would release dense fumes that would attach to the oil left behind by the fingerprints.

“When can you set up an interview with Amber?” He picked up a clear plastic jar filled with graphite that was also used to lift fingerprints.

“I can call her now.”

“She came to you on your turf. Invaded your space,” he said. “Next time we meet on our turf.”

“Here at the station?”

“Not yet. Pick a restaurant. A place where the food isn’t good.”

“There’s a diner in East Nashville. Smilie’s. Awful food.”

“I know the place. Smells like bleach half the time. It’ll work.”

She took the graphite jar from him. “Why?”

“This is our case. We’re in control. Not Amber.” He winked at her, his annoyance fading. Lately, he always got a little juiced when she was close. “I’m good at what I do, Georgia.”

She jabbed, “I’ve no doubt.”

“When this is all over, we should get dinner.” He imagined himself tossing a ball in the air and swinging, aiming for the fences.

“You’re not getting in my pants.”

Feigning hurt, he dropped his voice a notch. “One mention of dinner and your mind heads straight to the gutter. A guy like me has standards, too.”

She turned her attention back to a dozen paper bags tagged as evidence. “Go away.”

Annoyed she could segregate him so easily from her life, Jake slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the small pocketknife he always carried. “Send me the case notes. Set the meeting up for tomorrow. Early.”

“Done.”

“You’re a peach, Morgan.”

Frustration rumbled in her chest. “Why are you still here?”