Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

Cooper pawed at the rocks, barking to be released.

Joey fished his cell out of his back pocket, turned on the flashlight app, and cast it in the opening. The first time he looked, the dog nudged him from behind almost knocking him over. Joey pushed the dog aside and peered into the darkness.

His light bounced off jagged rocks, a dirt floor, and then . . . a bare foot, a leg, and a woman’s torso.

“Holy shit!” Joey shouted backing up as fast as his feet would carry him. In his haste, he dropped the leash, giving Cooper free rein to burrow into the hole again.

Joey quickly grappled for the leash and pulled the dog out of the hole. When the foul scent from the hole hit his nose again, the bagel he ate an hour ago twisted into a hard knot.

Hands shaking, he dialed 911. Cooper barked louder. When the operator answered, he sucked in a breath as he now dragged the hell-bent dog from the cave. “I’m in Percy Warner Park. And I think I just found a dead body.”

* * *

Jake Bishop arrived at the forensic lab with two hot cups of coffee. He drank his black and he knew Georgia drank hers with cream and two sugars. He wasn’t foolish enough to think a coffee peace offering would sweeten her mood, but the much-needed jolt of caffeine would take the edge off her customary morning bad humor.

He found her in deep thought sitting at her desk in the corner of the lab slumped over her files. She pulled up her hair and had already stuck a couple of pencils into the topknot. The look appealed in a hot, schoolteacher kind of way.

He set the coffee beside her. “Thanks for the synopsis and list of witnesses. Very detailed. After Amber, I want to talk to Tim Taylor, Mike’s best friend. And Mike’s father and the teachers at his school as well.”

She reached for the coffee, sipped and nodded. “Thank you. Why Tim?”

“Here to serve, Ms. Morgan.” He hesitated, enjoying his coffee before he answered. “Tim spent a lot of time with Mike. If anyone knew if the kid were into something that got him killed, Tim would know.”

“Okay.” She glanced up at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You’re smiling. Why?”

He sipped again, letting the question skitter past. “What did you find in the files last night? Anything new?”

“How do you know I reviewed them?”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. He set the cup down. “Right. You took the night off and did what, washed your hair or had some me time?”

“Funny.”

“You’re a Morgan and Morgans work. So what did you find?”

A frustrated shake of her head released a curl that she had tucked behind her ear. “I’m not sure I found anything. Much of what I reread were Buddy’s notes about Amber.”

Buddy Morgan. Hell of a cop and a man who two years after his death still cast a long shadow. “And what did he tell you about her?”

“The kid must have been interviewed dozens of times. Homicide cops, missing person cops, psychologists, and prosecutors. Buddy, like all the others, made her go over her story from beginning to end.”

“And?”

She took several more sips. “She never varied. Not once. She was adamant that she couldn’t remember what happened.”

“And Buddy believed her?”

“He could find no reason not to believe her. She never wavered, never gave them any reason to doubt her.”

“Maybe she’s a good liar.”

“Or maybe she’s telling the truth. Maybe she was a kid who went into the woods and something terrible happened and she escaped only to be roasted by her rescuers.”

Georgia Morgan could be a hardass on the job. He witnessed her going toe-to-toe with cops who violated her crime scene. She didn’t care whom she pissed off or irritated when it came to protecting evidence. But when it came to the injured, she might not gush or show much emotion, but deep feelings simmered under that thick skin.

For some

reason, she might have a blind side for Amber. “So what is it about Amber Ryder that’s gotten under your skin?”

The frown deepened and she rose from her chair. “She’s not under my skin.”

“Right. What is it?”

She shoved out a sigh, shaking her head as she paced. “She seemed a little lost to me, that’s all.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. There’s something vulnerable about her.”

“Please don’t tell me you have a gut feeling about her.”

She grimaced. “No. Not exactly.”

“Don’t be ashamed of it. Instinct is powerful.” But it was always important to verify those intangible feelings with facts. Hard evidence earned convictions.

He continued. “I’m worried there’s something we haven’t explored with Amber. The sooner we talk to her, the better. If anyone’s story might have changed in the last five years, it would be hers.”

“Why do you say that?” Georgia asked.

“She might not remember the story she told back then. Or,” he said with a nod to her, “some of the memories might have returned.”

“You think she’s making it all up?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s written all over you.”

Now she believed she could read him. “I never question you when it comes to forensic data and science. Hands down, you’re one of the best. But when it comes to people, you’re in my backyard.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I am. And any self-respecting detective wouldn’t take anyone else at their word when it came to a key witness. What time are we meeting her?”

“In a half hour.”

“Not much of a heads up.”

“If you can’t make it, I’ll take care of it.”

“Nice try. I’ll drive.”

She hesitated as if she wondered if this was an issue worth battling.

He laughed. “Think you can tolerate surrendering control of the wheel?”