Grave Secrets (9 page)

“You didn’t have a nanny? You could’ve afforded one.”

She gave him a sharp look before her features softened.

“Money wasn’t an issue. I didn’t want a nanny. She was my child, my responsibility. Jason had an enormous responsibility to the company, and my job was to take care of our child.”

“So you spent your days with the baby and he spent his at the office.”

She waited a heartbeat too long before answering, then looked away. “Yes.”

“Do I hear a bit of hesitancy in there somewhere?”

“I miss my husband terribly, but life goes on.” She returned her focus to him.

“Have you?” Now he was just being perverse.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Have you gone on with your life? It’s been over six months since your husband died. Have you put your life with him behind you? Or do you sit in your big house and wish for the days when he was here and you were a part of the social scene? All the fancy parties, being part of the country club set. Have you started living for the future or are you still living in the past?”

She reached for her car door, but he blocked her by holding the door shut with his hand. Her lips thinned, her back stiffened, and she looked as if she had a burr up her butt. The cute little butt with dirt all over it, which pretty much killed the image she was trying to project. Morgan was smart enough to keep the thought to himself, though.

“You think you have all the answers, but you don’t.” She whirled away from him, walking a few feet before turning back, bracing her legs as if she were preparing for a gunfight, except her arms were crossed over her chest. “Have you ever had the rug pulled out from under you? Had your world turned upside down? One day everything is just fine—the next you don’t know who you are or what’s happening to you. You struggle to maintain your sanity, but find it has being taken away from you, too.”

She hitched a breath, and a haunted look flashed in her eyes for a moment. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

“There’s no one to tell you what you should do or where to go,” she continued. “Each day is a struggle just to get out of bed. You wonder why you’re still here and everyone you love—everything you ever cared about—is suddenly gone.”

Her comments hit closer to home than Morgan cared to think about. A memory as old as his childhood slammed into him, his mother’s face crystallizing before him. It seemed the family’s shameful secret was destined to follow him throughout his life. He gave himself a mental shake to dispel the image, refocusing on Sara. He couldn’t allow the past to interfere with the present.

“We aren’t discussing me.”
Thank God.

She reached around him, grasped the door handle, and gave him a pointed look. He removed his hand, releasing the door. “And we are no longer discussing me. I’m tired of being an insect under a magnifying glass. Good day, Mr. Daniels.”

Stepping away from the car, he looked up, already regretting what he was about to do. But he did it anyway. “Wait.”

When she blew out a breath, and her shoulders slumped, he said, “Please.” Not a word he used often and it sounded rusty, even to his own ears.

“Did you forget to ask about another minor detail of my life? Want to know what I eat, how I spend my days? What?”

That’s exactly what I want to know, and more.
However, it was obvious she’d had it pretty rough over the last few months, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask any one of the dozens of questions floating on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure he would’ve held up as well as she had if the circumstances were reversed. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t think—”

“Do you really want to go back to your empty house?” he pressed. The haunted look on her face a few moments ago clung to him. Besides, he needed to take a different approach with her, and he couldn’t do it if she wasn’t talking to him. That and the fact the woman intrigued him—despite his suspicions.

She turned her head away. After a couple of moments, she faced him. “All right. You lead the way, and I’ll follow.”

“Why don’t you ride with me? Afterward, I can take you by the precinct. We’ll both need to fill out the paperwork for the ‘incident’ up there,” he said as he indicated the open grave.

“Oh, yes. I’d almost forgotten about him, poor man.”

Morgan snorted. “Poor man, my ass. He got what he deserved.” He scooped her elbow gently into his hand and headed toward the SUV.

“Really?” Her icy tone was in opposition to the fact she allowed him to touch her, to guide her toward his vehicle.

“Yeah. Shocked the hell outta’ me.” And he meant it. “Pretty good form, too, for a purse toting woman.”

Sara relaxed a little, the furrow in her brow less pronounced. “You think so? Cat will be upset I didn’t do better.”

“Cat? As in Ms Walker?”

“Yes. She taught me several self-defense moves. She has her black-belt, you know.” Pride etched her tone.

“Figures,” he muttered. He didn’t want to tell her what he felt when he’d seen the drunk gripping her. His gut had clenched into tight knots. When he’d gotten there and found her on the ground with the man in the hole, he’d been unusually gruff. Fear for her safety overrode everything else. If the drunk hadn’t been out of his reach, he might’ve beaten the crap out of him just on principle.

Sara laughed, the sound light and clear, which was a nice change from the icy tone she’d had a few minutes ago. So far, all he’d pretty much seen or heard from her had been sorrow. The corners of Morgan’s mouth tipped upward as he helped her into the vehicle. Some coffee, a report for Reece, then who knew what might follow. His dad had always taught him to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. It was an old cliché, but a good one.

Right now, he didn’t know which side of the equation Sara Adams belonged on. He’d find out, one way or the other. Despite the fact he wanted to find Andy’s killer, and Sara Adams held a prominent spot on his short list of suspects, a part of him wanted her to be a friend. Spending time with her would give him a better insight into what made her tick. Plus, he found he enjoyed her company. Most women wouldn’t push him the way Sara did. He liked the fact she didn’t back down, even when he leveled an icy stare at her. She’d proved she could hold her own in difficult situations.

Which also meant she could be good at hiding the truth. A trait he wouldn’t abide.

Sara sank into the leather seat of Morgan’s Lincoln Navigator. A plastic grocery sack on the back floorboard overflowed with empty coffee cups, gum wrappers, and wadded up fast food sacks. Sprinkled among all the rest were numerous Snickers wrappers. Hmm. Just the thought of the big dark, brooding PI eating a candy bar reminded her of a little boy. Was he ever one? Nana had told her of someone she’d known who had always been mature, even as a child. She had said the woman had an “old soul.” For the first time, Sara understood what her grandmother had meant.

Morgan Daniels had an old soul.

She contemplated the life of a private investigator. How well did they eat? When did they sleep? How did their families react to them being gone so much—which obviously they were. Sara had never given much thought to what it took for the men she’d hired to find her daughter. What were they giving up for the sake of the job? Any more than Jason gave up for his?

Morgan had said he’d never been married, but did he have any other family? Parents? Siblings? He always steered the conversations in her direction, never giving any personal information about himself. If he had a family, he sure neglected them, because every time she turned around, he was there. Today she’d been extremely glad to see him storming across the lawn.

She wasn’t about to let him in on that fact, though. Beneath the dark exterior beat the heart of someone who cared. Deeply, if she read him right. Of course, she could be wrong. The events of the last couple of days had her so twisted she wasn’t about to trust her judgment. Not at this point, anyway. It would be interesting to find out what was beneath the hard exterior he projected so well. Why he chose to be a private investigator, which was her main interest in him. The dark intensity of his eyes or the way his mouth quirked in those rare grins that stole her breath had nothing to do with it. No, definitely not. It was the private detective thing. That was all.

The last investigator had turned up nothing, so she’d fired him. Would Morgan take on the job? It was hard to tell how he’d react—not that she knew him all that well. She’d gotten the impression he was a simmering volcano—ready to blow at any minute.

Sad, to go through life that way. She shook off the thought. She couldn’t dwell on what issues he might have. She had her own problems, so whatever skeletons he had in his closet, he could just keep there.

She glanced out the window and watched as his long strides brought him back to the car. He’d gone to check on the drunk. Whether to see if he was okay or just still there, she didn’t know. It didn’t really matter.

Morgan slid behind the wheel.

“Is he all right?” she asked.

“You care?”

“Of course I do. He could be seriously injured.” She truly didn’t want him hurt.

Morgan threw her a sardonic look. “Have you ever wondered why drunks walk away from car wrecks?”

“I’ve never given it much thought. However, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

Hand on the ignition, he hesitated. After a moment, he twisted the key, shoved the gearshift into Drive and pulled into the street, all the while pointedly not looking at her. “It’s because they’re so relaxed their bodies just bounce and roll. It’s the people who tense up who get hurt.”

He lapsed into silence. Sara waited for him to continue. Patience was one virtue she’d learned as Jason’s wife. Just give a man time, and more than likely, he’d tell you more than you wanted to know. They’d gone several blocks before Morgan spoke again.

“This guy is no different. He bounced. He might have a few bruises, but no worse than what he was going to do to you.”

She’d have to agree as she sported her own set of bruises, thanks to the drunk. They’d heal and fade in time. Nothing she couldn’t live with. Forcing a teasing tone to her voice, she said, “So you’ve informed me. More than once, I might add.”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, then his shoulders relaxed as he threw her a brief grin. “Guess I have been kind of an ass.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Everyone except Cat had tiptoed around her, guarding their words, for the last few months and it was nice to have someone talk plainly to her. Conversations with Morgan Daniels were refreshingly never dull. “Your words, not mine.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, you’ll get used to it.”

What did he mean? Was he going to be around even more? For some reason, she knew he could help her find Kaycee. There was a fierce determination about him that made her feel safe and secure, yet made her want to run and hide at the same time. Only, she was through hiding her true self in order to live someone else’s life. She’d loved Jason, but she had always been who he had wanted her to be; her true identity buried so deep, not even her husband’s death allowed it to reemerge.

Oddly, digging Jason up seemed to have loosened the stranglehold on her inner strength. Just like the way she handled herself in the last hour with the drunk, clumsy though it was.

“We’re going to police headquarters downtown to file a report.”

“What happened to that cup of coffee?”

“I figured we’d get this out of the way first.”

“Then can I go change and clean up first? I’m a sight.”

He gave her an unreadable expression before responding. “No.”

Oh no you don’t, buster. I’m tired of other people, men in particular, telling me what I
have
to do
. “And why not?” Her frosty tone should give him a clue as to her state of mind.

He snorted. “You’re walking proof of what happened back there. Even my word isn’t that convincing. Besides, I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them what I saw you do.”

“Seriously?”

“Lady...” He trailed off. “I guess that’s just it. You’re a lady. Pure and simple.”

Good grief. Did everyone see only what was on the outside? Morgan included? Once she had Kaycee back, she was moving someplace where no one knew her so she could simply be herself. No preconceived notions about who or what she was.

“I gotta tell ya, though, you did a helluva job back there.”

Not even Jason had ever told her she’d done a helluva job on anything. Not in the recent years, anyway. And here a practical stranger was doing just that.

“Thank you. I’m sure any woman would have done the same thing.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

His tone told her otherwise. He didn’t believe it at all. He thought she was special. That knowledge, along with his praise, warmed her. She settled back against the seat and rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way.

Two full hours later, they finally reemerged into the late afternoon sun. Dazed from the whole process of filling out multiple reports, evidence photos of her torn top and the very visible bruises, then waiting to give a verbal statement, Sara welcomed the fresh air.

“Why in the world would anyone want to be a policeman?” she asked as they made their way down the sidewalk. The actual police work was one thing. However, all the paperwork would make her head spin.

Morgan stopped so suddenly she was a couple steps ahead of him before realizing it. She turned around and his whole demeanor had changed. The hard, cold look she’d come to associate with him was back.

“People enter law enforcement, put their lives on the line each and every day, to put the bad guys behind bars. Some people just don’t understand they aren’t above the law. They might get away with it for a while, but eventually, we catch the sorry SOB’s.”

It had been an innocent question. His reaction, though, shocked her. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
This
was the man she would be afraid to meet in a dark alley. Or even in the middle of a park in broad daylight with people all around. Something deep tortured him, and she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to find out just what.