Running for Cover Read online

  “I appreciate that, officer,” Morgan responded, standing up and moving toward the front door.

  “We’ll run patrol cars down this road a few times before morning. Keep the doors and windows locked, and don’t hesitate to call if you’re worried. The dogs bark, you hear strange noises. Call. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.” He walked outside and let the other two officers step off the porch before turning his attention to Jackson. “Do you have a weapon, Mr. Sharo?”

  “Not unless you count an unloaded handgun that we’ve got no ammunition for.” He gestured to the weapon, lying on the coffee table.

  “I wouldn’t recommend this for everyone, but you were a police officer and a military man. You know your way around a gun. You might want to get some ammunition.” He stepped off the porch, and Jackson followed, hearing the warning the officer hadn’t voiced. The house wasn’t easy to get to. It might take time for a responding officer to arrive. Too much time.

  Rain still fell, a chilly wind howling through the towering pines and cutting through Jackson’s wet shirt. He’d have to find a place to buy some clothes, but first he needed to make some phone calls. It was six in the morning on the East Coast. Early, but Jackson wouldn’t let that bother him.

  He waited until the officers drove away, then pulled out his cell phone, checking to see if he had a signal.

  “Who are you going to call?” Morgan asked, moving up behind him, the subtle scent of her perfume carrying on the wind, distracting Jackson more than he wanted to admit.

  He’d said he was attracted to her.

  That had been an understatement.

  Attracted, intrigued, compelled.

  All of those things, and that was dangerous territory.

  He had a case to solve, and being distracted couldn’t help. Wouldn’t help.

  “A friend in New York. I’m going to have him find Sean Macmillan’s family. I want to speak with them,” he responded, tucking the phone back into his pocket. He’d call after he finished talking to Morgan.

  “The Macmillans wouldn’t speak to the media during the trial,” she recalled. “I don’t think they spoke to anyone. I approached them the first day, wanting to offer my sympathy, but they wouldn’t acknowledge me. I always wondered if they believed the lies and thought I was responsible for his death.”

  “It’s possible they were just grief stricken and trying to cope the best way they could. Can you give me their names?”

  “I wish I could. It’s sad that Sean was such a good friend and I never asked who is parents were or where they lived or even if he had siblings.”

  “Regret is a bitter pill to swallow,” Jackson responded, knowing that his own regrets were a hot, biting taste on his tongue.

  “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Everyone has regrets, Morgan.”

  “But yours are about your sister, aren’t they? You think you could have saved her. That somehow you’re responsible for her death.”

  Surprised, he turned to face Morgan. Rain had soaked her hair, plastering it in a dark, shiny cap against her scalp. Mud-splattered clothes hanging like wet rags from her frame, she still managed to look confident, strong and beautiful.

  “I’m not going to lie and say you’re wrong,” he responded.

  “But you’re not going to admit I’m right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, what happened to your sister.”

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  “But?” she asked, shivering as a gust of wind whipped the drooping edges of her jacket.

  “You’re freezing. Let’s go inside. We can talk more in the morning.” He put an arm around her shoulders, urged her toward the house.

  “But we won’t. Not about your sister, anyway.”

  “No amount of talking can change what happened.”

  They reached the door, and she stopped, looked up into his face. “It really wasn’t your fault, Jackson. I hope you know that.”

  He wasn’t sure he did. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t sure he knew anything. Not at that moment, not with Morgan standing so close, her pale eyes shining with compassion and sorrow, her lips soft and wet with rain.

  He leaned down, tasted the icy water on her lips, heard her gasp, felt her press closer.

  The door swung open, and Morgan jumped back, her hand to her lips, her eyes wide with shock as Helen appeared in the doorway.

  “I was just coming to get you. I’ve made some tea. I thought you could both use some warming up.”

  “Actually, I think I’m going to take a hot shower and go to bed, Aunt Helen. I promised Lauren I’d make it to church, and I don’t want to look like a walking zombie when I get there.”

  “I can bring a cup to your room and set it on the bedside table. How does that sound?” Helen offered, and Morgan nodded.

  “That sounds good. Thanks.” She hurried away, and Jackson had the distinct impression that a hot shower and a cup of tea were the last things on her mind. As a matter of fact, she looked more like a woman with a plan than one with sleep on her mind. Maybe she thought doing more research, finding more answers, would hasten Jackson’s departure from her life. Or maybe she simply thought keeping busy would help her forget the kiss they’d shared.

  “How about you? Tea?” Helen asked.

  “Sure.” He’d take the tea, make a phone call and then go make sure that Morgan was in her room. No way did he want her sitting on the porch swing again.

  Helen handed him a heavy mug, steam still rising from it. “I noticed you didn’t have a suitcase with you.”

  “I was trying to keep up with your niece and didn’t have time to pack.”

  “I bet not. Morgan has never been one to sit still and wait for life to happen to her. I’m sure once she made the decision to come back to Washington, she jumped headfirst into the plan.”

  “She did. We had a wedding to attend this morning, and she had her bag packed and was ready to drive to the airport as soon as it was over. Didn’t leave me any time to get my things together.”

  “I thought you’d just met.”

  “We did.”

  “But you were both at the same wedding?” Helen asked, her suspicion obvious.

  “Mutual friends. That’s why I was in Lakeview. I’m actually from New York,” he explained, not bothered by her questions, just anxious to answer them and move on. Time was ticking, and he didn’t want to waste any more of it.

  “I guess it was a fortunate meeting then, since you saved her life. Listen, I’ve got some…things you might be able to use.”

  “Things?”

  “Some men’s clothes. They’re seventeen years past their expiration date, but I guess jeans and T-shirts never go out of style. That’s all my husband ever wore.”

  Husband? Helen had been married? Seventeen years, she’d said. That was a long time to keep someone’s clothes. “I appreciate the offer, but my clothes will dry soon enough. No need to lend me something that’s obviously important to you.”

  “They’re just clothes, Jackson, and if I hadn’t wanted you to borrow them, I wouldn’t have offered. You’re about the same size as Darren was. No sense in you sitting around in wet things.” She said it matter-of-factly, and Jackson wondered if he’d been wrong to think she’d clung to her husband’s clothes and to his memories during the past seventeen years.

  “In that case, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  “I’ll leave some things in the hall bathroom. I’m going to bring Morgan her tea, and then I’m going to take a cue from her and go to bed. Good night.”

  “Good night.” Jackson waited for her to disappear down the hall, and then pulled out his cell phone for the second time, glancing at the clock as he dialed Kane’s number.

  The phone rang twice before Kane answered. “Getting an early start on your day, Sharo?”

  “We had some uninvited visitors.”

  “Everyone okay?”


  “For now.”

  “So, what do you need from me?”

  “I’m looking for the parents of Sean Macmillan. I’d find them myself, but I’ve got a few other people to track down, and we’re running out of time.”

  “The guy killed by his business partner a while back?” Kane asked, and Jackson was sure he heard the rapid tap of fingers on a keyboard.

  “That’s right. Cody Bradshaw murdered the guy in cold blood.”

  “That’s not what the newspapers said.”

  “It’s what his ex-wife said.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “The other choice is to believe a murderer and his parents, so, yes.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just find the Macmillans’ contact information, see if you can get them on the phone. I’d like to know about anything unusual that happened to their son during the months before he died.”

  “You think they’ll have that information? Seems to me, he was a grown man and probably didn’t tell his family much.”

  “I’m hoping they’ve got something because right now we’re coming up empty. No leads. No ideas. Just a blank slate to build the investigation on.”

  “Isn’t that the place we always start?”

  “Yeah, but I usually don’t have a woman’s life in my hands.”

  “I’ll see if I can find them. If I do, I’ll call you with the information.”

  “Thanks, Kane.”

  “Just watch your back. I don’t want to lose an investigator. Finding someone else is too much of a pain.”

  “Thanks for your overwhelming concern.”

  “Thank me after you get back here in one piece.” Kane hung up and Jackson did the same, knowing he could count on Kane to find Sean’s parents and get whatever information there was.

  Which left him to tackle the Bradshaws. Morgan had said that they’d taken possession of Cody’s things after he’d gone to prison. Maybe, somewhere in the mix of what they knew and what they had, he’d find something that would lead him to the disk and to whoever it was that wanted it.

  He hoped it would, but he wasn’t counting on it.

  He walked down the hall and into the bathroom, grabbing the clothes Helen had left and changing quickly. Faded jeans. A faded T-shirt. A flannel button-down shirt that looked a lot like the one Helen had been wearing. They weren’t his size, but they were close enough and a whole lot better than sitting around in wet clothes.

  What had happened to her husband? Had he walked out, died, disappeared?

  Jackson wouldn’t ask. Whatever had happened seventeen years ago was Helen’s business. Jackson’s business was keeping Morgan safe.

  He walked to her room and knocked on the door, knowing she was awake.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Jackson.”

  “I’m sleeping.”

  “And talking at the same time?”

  “People do it all the time,” she responded, but the doorknob wiggled and the door swung open. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

  “I suppose that saying I really was sleeping while I’m standing here in mud-splattered pajamas isn’t going to work.”

  “No.”

  “Come in for a minute, but keep the door open. Helen’s got strict house rules.”

  “I sensed that about her.”

  “It doesn’t bother me now that I’m an adult, but the first summer I was here, I tried to run away three times. The problem was, getting out onto the main road was a long walk. I was never able to make it before Helen noticed I was gone and came after me.” She spoke quickly as if she thought filling each moment with words would keep him from mentioning the kiss.

  “Disappointing.”

  “I pretended it was, but I was always secretly relieved when she showed up. The woods around here can be spooky when you’re a thirteen-year-old kid.”

  “Is that why you finally stopped trying to run?”

  “I finally stopped running when Helen put some clay in my hands and told me to make something.” She smiled and walked across the room, her movements nervous and tense. “I decided to call my ex-in-laws.”

  “I thought we agreed that I’d take care of that.”

  “We did, but I thought they might be willing to share certain information with me. Information they might not share with the police or anyone else.”

  “Like?”

  “Cody enjoyed having money. It paid for the things he liked. Good food, expensive cars. Beautiful women,” she said, confirming what Jackson already suspected.

  “He was an idiot.”

  “So was I, but that’s a conversation for another time.” She smiled, but it didn’t hide the sadness in her eyes. If Cody weren’t already dead, Jackson would be tempted to cause the guy some serious pain for what he’d done to Morgan.

  “I take it his parents knew about his infidelity?”

  “Knew about it or suspected it. Either way, I’m sure they decided it was my fault. I called them, because I was sure that Cody’s mother would want to rub it in my face, make sure I suffered as much as her son had. I was right.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Simply that she wasn’t surprised to hear from me. That she knew I’d hear about Cody’s murder eventually. I offered my sympathy, then asked if he’d been acting okay during the days leading up to his death.”

  “Had he?”

  “She said that he’d been fine, happy even, and that it wasn’t just a mother’s wishful thinking that made her say that. His girlfriend of five years had thought the same.”

  “Five years?”

  “Whether or not it really was that long, I don’t know.”

  “Did she give you a name?”

  “Of course not. She wanted to hurt me. Not help me.” She sighed and dropped onto the edge of the bed.

  “So, a dead end.”

  “Not quite. I asked about the disk. Told her that finding it would help the police find the person who killed Cody. Mrs. Bradshaw told me that Cody had them send a box of things to someone a few weeks before he was arrested.”

  At her words, Jackson’s heart leaped. “What was in it?”

  “She didn’t know. Cody had it packaged and addressed. Apparently, he stopped by their house and asked his mother to overnight it to a female friend of his, someone who lived in the Spokane area. Those were her words, not mine.”

  “So, he sent something to his girlfriend? The one he’d been with for five years?”

  “It looks like it, but who knows? Mrs. Bradshaw is good at making up stories. Maybe that’s what she was doing.”

  “Why would she?”

  “To hurt me. For her, there wouldn’t have to be any other reason.”

  “You should have waited for me to make the call, Morgan. Let me handle her,” he said, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, sliding his arm around her shoulder. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

  “I can’t keep counting on you to help me, Jackson.”

  “Why not?” He cupped her jaw with his hand, barely touching the bruised flesh as he urged her to meet his eyes.

  “Because…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, pulling away and standing up, pacing across the room.

  “I’m not your ex-husband, Morgan.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then why are you so afraid of what you feel when you’re with me?”

  “Who said I feel anything?”

  “The kiss we shared, for one.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t mention that.” She turned to face him again, smiling sadly.

  “Why? It happened. I’m not sorry it did. I hope you’re not either.”

  “I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I want it to happen again.”

  “No?” He took a step toward her and she raised a hand, stopping him before he could prove her wrong.

  “Even if I do, I won’t let it. I’ve been hu
rt too much, Jackson. I can’t be hurt again.”

  There were a million things Jackson wanted to say in response. A million things he could say, but now wasn’t the time. “I can promise you I’ll never hurt you, but I don’t think you’ll believe me. Not now, anyway. So how about I just say good night? We’re both exhausted. A few hours of sleep will do us a world of good.”

  “All right,” she said, a weary edge to her voice. She pushed strands of inky-black hair behind her ear, her hands trembling.

  “We’ll get the answers we need, Morgan, and you’ll be able to go back to your life.”

  “I know. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  “Finding out something I don’t want to know. Like who the woman was that Cody sent that package to.”

  “You don’t want to know?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. It was bad enough knowing my ex-husband was cheating on me. Knowing who he cheated with may just make things worse.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “It is if I know the woman,” she said, standing and stretching. “I’ve got to take that shower and get into bed. The sun will be up soon.”

  “And you don’t want to disappoint Lauren by missing church,” he said, letting her change the subject.

  “Right. Good night, Jackson.”

  “Good night,” he said, walking out into the hall and closing the door, Morgan’s words echoing through his head.

  It is if I know the woman.

  Was that the reason Cody’s mother had been willing to share the information? Was the other woman someone Morgan knew?

  One way or another, they had to find out.

  Jackson hurried back to the den, ready to make his second early-morning phone call of the day, praying that whatever Sheriff Reed found out, it wouldn’t cause Morgan any more pain than she’d already experienced.

  SIXTEEN

  Three hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough, and as Morgan downed her second cup of coffee and finished eating a slice of buttered toast, she wondered if she should pull off the soft jersey dress she wore, throw back on her pajamas and go back to sleep.