High-Caliber Holiday (8 page)

EIGHT

B
rady turned in the awful tie and jacket and stepped outside with Morgan. He handed his parking ticket to the valet and couldn't wait to get out of here. He'd told Morgan the truth. He owned a suit and tie. He just didn't mention that the only time he'd worn it in the last few years was to Skyler and Logan's wedding, and only then because the entire team made up the wedding party.

The valet pulled up in Brady's rusted-out pickup. He smirked as he gestured for Brady to take charge of the vehicle. Brady ignored the guy's attitude and handed him a generous tip. Brady opened the door for Morgan, who either didn't notice the valet or was good at hiding what she witnessed. Brady suspected she was embarrassed to arrive in his battered truck when top-dollar cars surrounded them and filled the lot. Honestly, he was embarrassed, too. He was thirty-one years old, for crying out loud. He should have his act together and have a decent vehicle by now.

Patience
, he reminded himself as he fired up the truck and took off. Two more years of college and he'd have his degree. Then he'd be able to drive Morgan around in style. Ha! Like he'd be in her life in two years.

He pointed the truck toward the firehouse where he'd grab workout clothes for a visit to Morgan's gym. At least he'd be more comfortable there than in her fancy club.

She was an enigma. She was so natural and in her element working with her clients. Then she took him to her exclusive club, and there, too, she fit right in.

Which woman was she, anyway? And how was a guy to know?

He glanced at her, surprised to see her massaging her forehead. “Headache?”

“A little one.”

Concern for her sent his frustration packing. “Maybe we shouldn't go to the gym.”

She shook her head. “It's just stress. Exercise might help.”

They continued toward the firehouse in silence. He parked in front and grabbed the bag containing Nantz's cup.

Morgan leaned toward the front window. “You all live here, huh?”

“Amazing, right?” he said, looking at the impressive historic building through her eyes. “A woman—Winnie Kerr—was grateful to Darcie for saving her life, so she donated the place to County for FRS members. We all share the first floor, but we each have a private condo on the second and third floors. And we don't pay a cent in rent or for utilities. Everything's covered by an endowment fund.” He smiled. “You'll get a better idea of what I mean when we go in.”

Together they exited the truck and stepped toward the brick house decorated with twinkling white lights strung from every spot possible.

“Good thing you all don't have to pay the power bill for all of these lights.”

He chuckled. “It's Skyler. She's really into the whole Christmas thing.”

Morgan looked up at him. “Sounds like you're not.”

“It was never a big deal in my family growing up,” he said without further explanation, and opened the door to reveal additional decorations in the foyer.

An industrial staircase led to their condos and showcased a banner that was strung with garland and lights. Poinsettias sat on the steps and a small tree filled the corner of the entry. He led Morgan into the family room, a wide-open space where fire trucks used to park. The FRS worked out of the sheriff's office, but Winnie built a special garage across the driveway for their truck so if they weren't on duty, they wouldn't have to report to the office for a callout.

His teammates' voices echoed under the first floor's high ceilings that carried ductwork and pipes across the space.

“Wow,” Morgan said as she turned, her eyes wide with wonder. “Even without all the amazing decorations, this place is so cool. I especially like that you kept the big red fire doors and it still feels like an old firehouse.”

“All Winnie's doing. She remodeled the whole place with our team in mind.”

“Can I see the rest of the place?”

“Sure. Sounds like the team's in the dining room. I'll have someone take you on a tour while I grab my clothes.” He led the way to the dining area that was big enough for the team and guests. Brady stopped in the doorway to wait for the conversation to die down so he could properly introduce Morgan.

All team members were present except Skyler. Cash's fiancée, Krista, had joined them, too. Her grandfather, Otto, often accompanied her to dinner, but he was absent tonight. Krista and Cash had been engaged for six months now, and were hinting at a spring wedding. Cash had already asked Brady to be his best man.

They'd finished eating but were still too busy talking to notice Brady's arrival.

“I see it was Cash's night to cook,” Brady said loudly to gain their attention, and then pointed at the bucket of takeout fried chicken.

“I'm working on teaching him,” Krista said, and winked at Cash. “But honestly, he's hopeless.”

Morgan eased past Brady and all eyes went to her, his team quickly sizing her up. Deputies made split-second decisions all the time on the job and that meant making quick determinations about people. Darcie, of course, knew Morgan, Archer had spent lunchtime with them, and the others had seen her at the standoff. If they'd already formed an opinion of her, no one had mentioned it. For a reason Brady wasn't about to dig into, he cared what they thought about her. Cared too much about it for his own good.

“You all remember Morgan,” he said, and quickly brought the team up to date on her stalker situation.

Jake frowned from his seat at the end of the table. “You don't think it's related to the standoff on the train, do you?”

“I'm pretty sure it's just coincidental timing.” Brady held up his hand. “And before you guys say you don't believe in coincidences, this is one of those times.”

“Wait.” Darcie set down one of her knitting projects for foster kids and came to her feet. “You're telling me that the break-in at Morgan's apartment happened last night and it's the first I'm hearing about it?”

“Ah, yeah,” Brady said. “Sorry.”

She turned to Jake. “And you knew about it, too?”

He nodded.

“Seriously.” She fired a pointed look at Jake, then turned to thump Brady in the biceps. “You guys really have to do a better job of communicating.”

“Hey,” Cash grumbled. “I didn't know a thing about it so don't lump me in with them.”

“That's because you haven't thought about anything other than Krista in months,” Archer said.

Cash grinned, not at all embarrassed about his obvious devotion to Krista. “Can't think of a better way to stay out of the doghouse with Darcie than this.” He tightened his arm around Krista's shoulders, and she blushed bright red.

Darcie faced Archer. “And you? Did you know?”

He nodded, but looked at Morgan. “Anything more I can do to help with the investigation?”

“We're good,” Brady replied. “I'm still processing all the details you gave us about stalkers at lunch. More would just be overload.”

“But we appreciate your help,” Morgan added. “I think it was just what we needed to find whoever's leaving the roses and messages.”

Cash removed his arm from Krista and leaned forward, the peaceful expression gone, his gaze fixed on Brady. “You need anything other than Archer's psychobabble, you know I'm your guy, right?”

“Hey, man.” Archer mocked a glare. “Sometimes that so-called psychobabble is more important that all your beefy muscles.”

Cash's mouth dropped open. “Beefy? I'm not beefy.”

“Actually.” Krista laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are kind of beefy. In a good way, though. A very good way,” she added, and another blush crept over her face.

Cash smiled at her and they seemed to forget all about the others in the room.

Archer cleared his throat. “This is not what I was going for with my insult.”

“Sorry, man. I'm as happy to rise to a good insult as the next guy.” Cash leaned back, took Krista's hand and lifted it. “But you're gonna have to time them for when Krista's not around. She takes all the fight out of me.”

Jake stuck a finger in his mouth and faked a gag.

Smiling, Morgan asked, “Are they always like this?”

“Pretty much,” Brady said. “Except when we're on a callout. Things get tense there so we like to let go when we're not on duty.”

“About that help.” Jake brought them back to the point as he always did. “What do you need?”

“Right now, for someone to give Morgan a quick tour of the first floor while I grab some workout clothes. Morgan and I are going to check out her gym.”

“I'll do it.” Darcie stepped forward. “I need to catch up with Morgan anyway and make sure she has my number so she'll
call me
next time she's in trouble.” Darcie's pointed look moved to Morgan, and she linked arms with her. “You
will
call me, right?”

A sheepish expression on her face, Morgan nodded. Then she glanced back at Brady as Darcie led her from the room, but he couldn't tell if she was asking to be rescued or if she was glad to be going with Darcie.

He stepped over to Jake. “Could I get you to run some prints for me?”

“A stalker suspect?”

“Loosely.”

Jake's eyebrows rose. “Isn't Rossi taking care of this?”

“He's officially working the case, but with little to go on, it's not a top priority for him so I'm helping out in my spare time.”

“Want me to talk to his supervisor?”

Brady shook his head. “He's got a big caseload, and we can help him out by running these, right? If they match the prints lifted at Morgan's house and her car, I'll let Rossi know.”

Jake took the cup. “I'll take care of it.”

“I'll email you the prints lifted at Morgan's place so our tech can compare them.” Brady turned to leave, then stopped. “I'll need that ASAP.”

Jake shook his head. “Of course you will.”

“Hey.” Brady grinned. “You've got clout. If anyone can make it happen fast, it's you.”

To Jake's groan, Brady headed up the flight of metal stairs to his one-bedroom condo. He'd moved in four years ago and it didn't look much different from the day he'd first stepped in the door. Except maybe the sixty-inch TV he'd splurged on and his clothes tossed all over the furniture. Today would have been laundry day and he had to admit the place looked like a teenage boy lived there. Hadn't taken him long to let go of regimented marine standards when it came to his personal space. Standards regarding shooting hadn't changed one bit.
If
he managed to pull the trigger.

He quickly picked things up in case Darcie brought Morgan upstairs, then shoved clean workout clothes into a bag and jogged downstairs.

He heard Darcie's voice coming from the game room. “You quit your career because of one case?”

Brady wanted to hear Morgan's answer so he joined them.

“Sounds like that, doesn't it?” Morgan replied as she glanced at him, then returned her focus to Darcie. “But actually, when things got ugly in the trial, I turned to my faith to find some peace and I left because of that.”

“Really?” Darcie asked, looking up from another knitting project. She left them all over the house so whenever she had a free moment she could knit a few rows. “I never got the feeling in college that you were into your faith.”

“I wasn't.”

“What changed?” Brady inserted himself in the conversation and leaned against the doorjamb.

Morgan turned her attention to him and didn't seem to mind him butting in. “I was raised in the church. We went every Sunday because it was expected of our family. We didn't live our faith. It was just another thing we did to keep up our image in the community. But then came the trial.” A long sigh slipped out. “It was hard seeing the suffering the plaintiffs lived with every day. I wanted to help them, but my job was to do just the opposite.”

Darcie set down her needle and squeezed Morgan's hand. “With your save-the-world personality that must have been hard.”

“You have no idea.” The agony she'd experienced hung in her words.

“And this led you to rely on God more?” Brady asked.

She nodded. “I was headed toward a breakdown.” She twisted her hands together. “Honestly, I thought I was going to completely fall apart, but there was this man who caught my attention. He'd lost his wife and two children to cancer, but he wasn't bitter like the others. He wanted a settlement because he wanted our company to take responsibility, but he didn't seem to hate us. So I started watching him to see why he was different and learned he relied on God. I figured if this guy could give it a go, so could I. I went to church one Sunday and slowly but surely discovered the value of faith in my everyday life.”

Brady could tell she was about to say something more, but she stopped.

“And?” Darcie asked before Brady could.

“And, as I grew in my faith, I knew I needed to simplify my life. I was done with the whole power struggle and lifestyle that came with the kind of money my parents have. I decided to find a job where I could put my faith into action and get away from my parents' superficial world. I'd worked for my dad since graduating law school and lived in the family guesthouse. It was time to build a life for myself. I resigned, took the director's position at PEA and moved out of the guesthouse. Here I am. A much happier person. Minus the stalker, of course.” She laughed.

“Wow.” Darcie fell back in her chair. “You've really changed.”

“For the better, I hope.”

“Actually, I never saw any bad in you before, but I'm impressed with the way you've committed your life to helping others.”

“So am I,” Brady said.

She looked first at Brady, then Darcie. “I get that this isn't news to you. All of you put your lives on the line for others every day. You're living your faith, too.” She glanced at Brady. “I guess I shouldn't assume you're a man of faith.”