Little Bird (The Tangled Series)

Little Bird
by Liza Gaines
Copyright © Liza Gaines, 2013

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood Ave
Lancaster,
OH
43130
www.MusaPublishing.com

Issued by Musa Publishing, August 2013

This e-book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this e-book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.

ISBN
: 978-1-61937-621-2

Editor: Aimee Benson
Artist: Kelly Shorten
Line Editor: Jennifer Duffey
Interior Book Design: Cera Smith

For Jeremy,
You’re a good egg, Cowboy, and you make it all worthwhile. Thank you for our Happily Ever After. I’m over the moon in love with you.

And for Aimee,
My cheerleader, my word pimp, and, most importantly, my friend. Your unwavering support is appreciated more than you will ever know.

Chapter One

I
t was dark when Savannah Alderton woke abruptly to the sound of her ringing phone. She glanced at the clock. Three twenty-seven a.m. Ugh. She didn’t bother to look at the caller ID as she rolled over and answered. It was probably one of her friends, drunk dialing.

“Hello?”

“Savannah, you need to get up.”

Savannah sat up in bed, instantly wide-awake. Mike Hanson was her boss and friend. In the almost two years she’d known him he had never called her in the middle of the night before. This couldn’t be good. “What’s going on, Mike? Are Ginny and the kids okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I’m on my way to pick you up now. Be ready in fifteen minutes. I’ll explain in the car.”

Before Savannah could respond, the phone went dead.

Savannah didn’t waste any time getting out of bed. She’d never seen Mike behave like this, and he wasn’t prone to overreaction. He had been a cop in Washington DC for a couple of years before getting frustrated with the bureaucracy and quitting. For the last seven years, he’d been self-employed as a private investigator and she’d been working for him for the last two. Contracting with the federal government doing security clearance investigations was the bread and butter of his business. These investigations weren’t exciting—mostly they involved combing through the financial records of prospective government employees and interviewing their friends and family. It paid the bills.

She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth before pulling her long auburn hair into a loose ponytail. Savannah lived in a studio apartment on the first floor of an old historic house near Dupont Circle. The apartment was small. She only had room for a twin bed, an old wooden chair, and her dresser, but she appreciated not having to live with a roommate. Leaving the bathroom, she switched the light off and crossed the room to her dresser. Settling on a pair of shorts and a green baby-doll shirt, she dressed and headed out the door with her phone and purse in hand. Locking it behind her, she cringed as the dog in the apartment across the hall started barking. Generally Savannah loved dogs, but this particular beast was her nemesis, always waking the whole building when she came in after a late night out with friends. She could only hope he wouldn’t disturb everyone this morning.

Slipping down the hall and out into the warm night air, she was surprised to see Mike already waiting, his black BMW purring quietly at the curb. As she approached, Mike leaned across the empty passenger seat and pushed the door open for her. Savannah studied him as she got in. He wore a pair of old jeans with a Grateful Dead T-shirt that had seen better days, and his blond hair was tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, which he probably had.

As he pulled away from the curb she asked, “So, what’s going on? Where are we going?”

Mike glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, most of his attention focused on the road. “Virginia. I have an old friend, Lee, who lives out in Middleburg. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but he called just a bit ago. He said he needed me to come out right away. He said he needed my help.”

Savannah stared sleepily out the window, watching the city streets go by. “But he didn’t say what it’s about?”

Mike shook his head. “No. He said we needed to talk in person. But I’ve known him for almost twenty years; this isn’t like him. Whatever it is, it’s big. That’s why I dragged you out of bed, by the way. Knowing what I know about Lee, I’m going to need help.”

“Okay, so tell me about him.“ They were speeding across the Roosevelt Bridge into Virginia. After a storm earlier in the night the Potomac River was dark and muddy, lapping against the shore of Roosevelt Island.

“Hmm—” Mike paused. “We met in college, and he introduced me to Ginny, actually. He was going to be—well he is—an attorney, but he doesn’t practice anymore. His folks owned a horse farm out here in Middleburg. He always said he hated the farm but it turned out he wasn’t happy stuck in an office either. When his dad died he quit his job in Arlington and went back to the farm. He said he was just going to help his mom get everything straightened out and sell the place. But that was six years ago. His mom’s gone now, too, but he still has the farm.”

Savannah shrugged. “Maybe he likes it more than he thought he would. It seems like there would be a lot more money in a law office than a horse farm, though.”

“The money isn’t really an issue. Lee’s family is old money, kiddo—old Virginia money. There’s even a rumor they’re somehow related to Robert E. Lee, but I don’t know how true that is.”

Savannah giggled and shifted in her seat to look at Mike. “So, is he Lee Lee then? Because that would be awesome.”

Mike snorted. “Uh, no, Lee Jackson actually.”

“Lee Jackson. You mean like the holiday, Lee-Jackson Day?” Savannah’s eyes were wide.

Mike laughed. “Well, that wasn’t their intent but I admit his parents didn’t really think the Lee Jackson thing through very well.”

“Oh! Oh! Please tell me he has a son named King Lee Jackson!” Savannah squealed and bounced in her seat, more awake now that she was giggling at the turn toward ridiculous their conversation had taken. For almost two decades Virginians celebrated Martin Luther King, Jr. day on the same day reserved for honoring two of the most revered Confederates. It was hard to believe anyone had ever thought that was a good idea.

“I haven’t had coffee yet and that was entirely too shrill.” Mike scowled at her and added, “Anyway, sorry to disappoint you but there is no King Lee Jackson. He’s divorced, no kids. His ex-wife is Cara Dalton.“

Savannah frowned. “Cara Dalton? Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Don’t you ever read the paper? Cara’s a journalist. She works for
The
Washington Post
.“

Savannah shrugged. “I read the paper online all the time; I just don’t pay attention to the journalists’ names. So what happened? Why’d they get divorced?”

“Lee never really talked much about the why. But they were so different. I was surprised when they got together in the first place, so not really that shocked when it didn’t work out. I mean, they’re both great people, just not great for each other.”

Savannah frowned. “That’s too bad. But it sounds like the guy has a pretty normal life.”

“Right, exactly. Lee is the guy I would call if I had to dispose of a body. He’s a dependable, solid guy. A little hot-tempered maybe, he’s been known to get in the occasional bar fight, especially when we were younger. We raised some hell back in the day.” Mike smiled as he spoke, obviously remembering some of their former hell raising escapades. “A pretty serious womanizer, before he was married and again now that he’s divorced. But he’s just not the kind of guy to get himself into serious trouble. He isn’t reckless or anything.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Mike’s only response was a grunt, so they rode in silence and Savannah leaned her head against the window, unintentionally drifting off to sleep.

Savannah awoke to Mike gently shaking her arm as they turned into a long drive. She looked at the dashboard clock and noted it was just after five o’clock.

Looking over at Mike blearily she asked, “Are we there?“

Mike nodded and Savannah sat up straighter, turning her attention outside the car. The drive was wide and paved, lined with magnolia trees on both sides. In the gathering dawn she noticed board fence, neatly painted black, as far as the eye could see. Dozens of horses quietly grazed in the pastures.

They’d driven about a quarter of a mile when they came around a curve in the road and Savannah gasped, taking in the old Georgian house ahead of them. It was white, with green shutters and a black side-gabled roof. The front porch had a portico with two columns on each side of the door and an elaborate wrought iron rail, all covered in lush winding ivy. She had no idea how big the house was, she wasn’t good at judging things like that, but it was definitely huge. As they got closer, she noticed the road continued, but there was a turn off on the right into a cobbled circle drive in front of the house.

The house looked straight out of an old movie about the antebellum south and Savannah was in awe. It was a little odd though. Mike was such a down to earth person; it was hard to imagine him being friends with some stuffy rich guy, which is exactly how that house made her imagine Lee. She turned to Mike, a little breathless when she asked, “Is that his house?”

He laughed, “That’s where his parents lived, but Lee’s not pretentious enough to live there. Now he rents it out to a couple who run a bed and breakfast out of it. He lives in one of the cottages in back.”

Savannah looked at him curiously. “Cottages in back?“

Mike nodded. “Yeah, a lot of these old places had cottages. Sometimes the farm manager lived in one, or the trainer or other help. Sometimes they used them as guesthouses. There are four here. Lee lives in one, his farm manager and trainer each have one, and he rents out the other one, usually to someone who is also boarding a horse here. Apparently all the horse crazy girls like to live close to their horse.”

“How convenient for the womanizing landlord.” Savannah snorted and shook her head. “Anyway, pretentious or not, why would you live in a cottage when you could live in a house like that?”

Mike gave her a teasing look. “It may be a cottage but it’s still a lot bigger than the tiny closet you call an apartment.”

Savannah rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. They went around another bend in the road and she lost sight of the main house as Mike turned off onto a dirt lane. She could see the cottages in the distance now. They were cute, white with black shutters, all on the left side of the lane in a neat row. They were about fifty yards apart with well-manicured lawns and cute little flowerbeds in front. The one farthest down the road had a detached garage, set back from the corner of the house.

Mike pointed as they passed the first house. “This one belongs to the farm manager, the trainer is in the second house, and the next one is the rental. The one on the far end with the garage is Lee’s.“

“This is quaint. Not my idea of home but I can see why he likes it.”

Two cars were parked in front of Lee’s garage, a blue Chevy pick-up that must have been at least ten years old, and a gray Jeep Grand Cherokee, which appeared to be fairly new. Mike pulled into the driveway and parked behind the truck.

As they were getting out of the car, a large dog came around the corner of the house and stood in the driveway barking at them.

Savannah looked nervously at Mike but he didn’t seem concerned. He called to the dog, “Shush, Toby, it’s just me.”

The dog seemed to recognize his voice and with a final bark he turned and ambled back behind the house. Turning to Savannah, Mike added, “I’m guessing if Toby is out here Lee is out here somewhere, too.”

Savannah stayed close behind Mike as they followed the dog into the backyard, stopping to stand between the corner of the house and garage.

Surveying the yard, it took her a moment to find him in the gray early morning light. Finally, her eyes settled on the figure of a man working under what she thought was an old oak tree in the far corner of the yard. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a pair of jeans and work boots. Even from this distance she noticed his pants and chest were both streaked with mud. It looked like he was shoveling dirt.

Savannah watched as he raised his left arm, wiping sweat from his forehead. Even in the early morning, summer in Virginia was hot and humid and she didn’t envy him working so hard in this heat. She looked up at Mike, who shrugged and began to cross the yard.

They were about twenty feet away when she realized it wasn’t just mud smeared over his chest and clothes, but also what she was pretty sure was blood. They had taken only a few more steps when Savannah stopped, gaping, with a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. He was shoveling dirt into what appeared to be a fresh grave.

Looking up at Mike, Savannah whispered, “Apparently, he thinks
you
are the guy to call if he has to dispose of a body.”