Running for Cover (7 page)

“We’ll talk more on the plane,” Jackson said, and Morgan nodded. Whether or not Helen would even open the door and allow her niece and a complete stranger to enter the sanctuary she’d carved for herself, Morgan couldn’t say, but of all the places Morgan had ever been, Helen’s was the closest she’d ever gotten to home. It would be good to stay there for a few days.

The taxi pulled up in front of the airport, and Jackson climbed out. Despite his relaxed demeanor, Morgan could feel the tightness in his muscles as he took her hand and helped her from the car. Were the men who’d followed them to the diner back here at the airport already?

Morgan wanted to hurry into the relative safety of the building, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. She felt old and used up, her body aching with fatigue. No matter how much she wanted to run, she could only move slowly, rounding the cab as Jackson pulled her carry-on from the trunk, shuffling along as they moved away from the vehicle. Her ribs hurt with every breath. The pounding in her head and the pain in her jaw and cheek were becoming almost impossible to ignore.

What she wanted, what she needed, was a quiet place to rest and heal. A place shadowed by mountains, set deep in the evergreen forest of eastern Washington.

Not home, but close.

And maybe that was the most Morgan could ever hope for.

W
aiting had never been something Morgan was good at, and she paced impatiently as the first-class passengers were called to board the flight to Spokane.

“Wearing a hole in the floor isn’t going to get us on that plane any sooner,” Jackson said, snagging the back of her jacket and pulling her to a stop.

She whirled to face him, ready to send him on his way like she should have the minute they’d returned to the airport. Fear had kept her silent. Fear and something else.

She met his eyes, tried to form the words that would make him turn and walk away, but they stuck in her throat, sealed there by her own weakness. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be independent. She wanted, more than anything, to say she didn’t need anyone and to mean it.

“It’s going to be okay, Morgan. I promise.” Jackson took her hand, his palm warming her chilled flesh. Auburn stubble darkened his jaw and there were shadows beneath his eyes. He looked as tired as she felt, but somehow managed to look stronger, more capable and more confident than she could ever hope to be.

Men like him should come with a warning label.

And an antidote.

One look in his eyes, one glance at his rugged face and she
was tempted to forget all the reasons why she shouldn’t let herself trust him. Tempted to forget the hard lessons she’d learned from her marriage to Cody. Because as much as she wanted to believe Jackson was like her ex, she knew the truth. If there were heroes in the world, men who lived with integrity and honor, who championed the weak and protected the innocent, Jackson was one of them.

She shivered and took a step back, stopping short when Jackson didn’t release her hand.

“You’re cold,” he said, slipping out of his sports coat.

“No, I’m fine.” But he’d already settled the jacket around her shoulders. She could feel the heat of his body, could smell the faded scent of his cologne, and it made her long for things she was better off forgetting about.

“I can’t take this, Jackson.” She started to shrug out of the coat, but he grabbed the lapels and tugged it closed again.

“Sure you can.”

“Keep handing me your jackets, and you won’t have any left to wear,” she said, half-heartedly attempting to shrug out of the jacket again. The fact was, she
was
cold, chilled to the bone with fear and fatigue.

“The one I lent you last night has already been returned, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He buttoned the top button of the sports jacket, offered a quick smile that made Morgan’s heart jump, and then nodded toward the line of passengers. “Looks like it’s time to board. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“You don’t sound all that enthusiastic for someone who’s going to visit family she hasn’t seen in a few years.”

“I’m…” She stopped herself before she said more than she should. Accepting Jackson’s sports coat was one thing, telling all the reasons why she dreaded seeing her parents was something else entirely.

“What?”

“Just tired.”

“And in pain?”

“That, too.”

“So, let’s get on the plane, and you can rest for a while.” His hand rested on her waist as they joined the boarding passengers.

Morgan didn’t bother to move away. What would be the point?

They were going to spend the next couple hours sitting knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder, and there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Except tell him to go back to Lakeview
.

She frowned as they boarded the flight and made their way through the half-empty cabin to their seats. She
should
tell him to go back. So why wasn’t she?

“Looks like there won’t be any problem sitting together this time,” Jackson said, taking the seat beside Morgan.

“There wasn’t any problem last time.”

“Not after I gave up my seat in first class.”

“I wondered if you had.”

“It was that or sit near a group of executives who were discussing the pros and cons of on-site employee training.”

“That might have been informative.”

“But not nearly as interesting as sitting with you.”

“No need for flattery, you’ve already gotten your way.”

“What way?”

“You’re heading to Spokane with me. I was planning on losing you in Chicago.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, inviting Morgan to join in.

She might have if she weren’t so worried about what that would mean.

“So, where are we headed? You said you had an idea for a safe place.” Jackson interrupted Morgan’s thoughts.

“My Aunt Helen’s place.”

“I’m not sure that will be any safer than your parents’.”

“That’s because you don’t know my aunt. She’s got a cabin in the mountains. She goes to town once a week for supplies, but other than that, she rarely leaves the place.”

“She’s a hermit?”

“A potter. A renowned one, so she likes to keep her address private. She sells pieces of her work to galleries in Seattle, L.A. and New York, and she doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s working.”

“She sounds interesting.”

“I guess so, but to a teenager who wanted to spend summers partying with friends, she was just…weird.”

Jackson smiled at that, flashing dimples that had probably won him more than his fair share of hearts. “Your family spent a lot of time at her cabin?”

“
I
spent four summers at her cabin. The day school let out, my parents drove me there, dropped me off and left me. They’d come back to pick me up a couple days before school began.” Four summers spent in the mountain cabin. No television. No contact with friends. Nothing but towering pine trees and the feel of clay beneath her fingers, smooth and cool and malleable. She hadn’t been able to control her circumstances, but she
could
control the shape of the vases and bowls she threw.

“I guess there was a reason for that?”

“I was a troubled kid with a knack for causing chaos and drama. My parents’ home was quiet and well structured until I showed up.”

“Showed up? You make it sound like you arrived on their doorstep unannounced,” Jackson said.

“Not quite, but close enough. We’d met twice before they adopted me. I don’t think they had any idea what they were getting themselves into.”

“I didn’t realize you were adopted.”

“Why would you?”

“I’d tell you, but I doubt you’d like what I had to say.”

“Which, of course, means I’ve got to hear it, so, spill.”

“When Jude moved to Virginia, he asked me to do some investigating. He had a list of people he thought might be responsible for the hit-and-run accident that nearly killed him. Your name was on the list.”

“Because he helped put Cody in jail?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the idea of you digging into my life.”

“I was investigating your relationship to Jude. I didn’t research your past. Which is why I didn’t know you were adopted,” Jackson responded. “Of course, now that we’re discussing your past—”

“We’re not.”

“Sure we are, and I’ve got to admit, I’m curious. Were you in foster care?”

“I was in an orphanage in Latvia. My birth mother abandoned me when I was nine. I met the Alexandrias about a year later. They made two visits to the orphanage, and brought me home on the second trip.”

“And?”

“That’s it. The whole story. Or, as much of the story as I’m willing to share.”

“You know why I became a private investigator, Morgan?”

“Because you’re nosy and needed an excuse to dig into other people’s business?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Maybe, but it was mostly because I’m good at getting answers.”

“What happened in my past isn’t something you need to find answers for, Jackson.”

“No? It seems like your past has everything to do with the present, and that finding out about it will help us figure out what is going on.”

“
Cody
has everything to do with the present, but he and I met in college. That’s about as far back as any investigating needs to go.”

She thought he would argue, but he nodded instead. “Fair enough. Everyone has secrets they’ve got a right to keep.”

“Even you?” she asked and wished the question back immediately. Jackson’s secrets were no more her business than hers were his.

“I’m not sure how secret they are, but I’ve got things I keep private.”

“Like the reason you left your job as a homicide detective? It seems to me, a guy who’s good at finding answers would excel at a job like that,” Morgan said, desperate to steer the conversation away from herself, but not sure why she was steering it toward Jackson.

Not sure?

Of course she was sure. She was curious. It was as plain and simple as that.

Which made it really complicated.

“Forget I said that. It’s really none of my business.”

“I don’t mind answering,” he responded and short of lying and saying she had no interest in hearing his answer, Morgan could do nothing but listen. “After my sister Lindsey died, I lost my objectivity. Without it, I couldn’t do my job effectively.”

“That must have been tough.”

“It was. Lindsey was murdered by her estranged husband. He beat her, strangled her and left her for dead. She died in the hospital three days after the attack. After that, every time a woman was killed, I thought of my sister. Each crime scene was like a testimony to her death, and each one seemed to point to
a husband or boyfriend’s guilt. Even when it didn’t.” His voice was tight and hard, his hands fisted, and Morgan reached out and touched his knuckles, let her palm rest against his warm skin.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jackson,” she said, knowing the words weren’t enough. Could never be enough.

“You said that before,” he responded, turning his hand beneath hers, so that they were palm to palm, finger to finger.

“I know it doesn’t help.” She should move her hand away.

She should, but didn’t. Just let him curl his fingers around hers, squeeze gently. “It doesn’t change anything, but it does help. I’m going to call Sheriff Reed while we wait for take-off. The police have had plenty of time to find our guys and bring them in for questioning.”

He released her hand, and she pulled it back into her lap. Told herself she couldn’t still feel the warmth of his touch, the gentle pressure of his fingers curling around hers.

It only took Jackson a few minutes to finish his conversation. He was frowning as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket.

“Bad news?” Morgan asked.

“Good and bad. The police are still searching for our guys. They’ve staked out the airport. No sign of two men fitting the description we gave boarding a flight to Spokane. Seeing as how this is the only flight to Spokane, I consider that good news.”

“So what’s the bad news?”

“Both men are still on the loose, and we’re no closer to finding the answers we need to keep you safe.”

“Has Sheriff Reed been able to find out any more information about Cody’s death?”

“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. We’ll call again when we land in Spokane. I want to do a search on Cody’s business and on his clients. Sheriff Reed might have some of that information.”

“If he doesn’t, Cody’s parents might. They cleaned out his
office and our home after he was convicted and sentenced. I think they took all his things to storage.”

“Would they be willing to let you look through it? Or to search through it themselves?”

“They haven’t spoken to me since Cody was arrested. I doubt they’re going to open up now.”

“Even if talking to you means finding the person who murdered their son?”

“Maybe. But you still may have better luck calling them yourself. During the trial they were happy to be interviewed by the press and to answer any questions the police and attorneys posed.” They’d also been more than happy to paint Morgan in a negative light. Their goal had been to see their son acquitted. They didn’t care how many lies they told to do it.

“I think I remember seeing them on the news during Cody’s trial. His mother cried with dry eyes,” Jackson responded.

“Lila Bradshaw didn’t believe in crying. It smeared even the most waterproof mascara. At least, that’s what she told me a few hours before I married Cody.”

“She sounds like good mother material,” Jackson said wryly, and Morgan nodded her agreement.

“She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She loved Cody, but I always thought that had more to do with his success than the fact that he was her son.”

“But she wasn’t nearly as fond of you and your success?”

“Making pottery doesn’t equate to making money. In Lila’s eyes, it was a waste of time, energy and resources.”

“That’s too bad.”

“It was, but I didn’t let it bother me.” Much.

Jackson eyed her for a moment, as if he sensed the lie in her words. She refused to look away or to admit what they both knew was the truth. “Do you have their phone number?”

“Unless they’ve changed it.”

“I’ll give them a call tomorrow. See what I can find out.”

“If you’re thinking Lila will search through Cody’s things for you, I don’t think it’s going to happen. She’s never been the kind to do anything unless it benefited her.”

“I’m more interested in finding out whether or not anyone else has been calling and asking them questions. I’d also like to know if she’s had a break-in recently.”

“You think someone already searched through Cody’s things?”

“Whoever is looking for that disk probably searched every other avenue before approaching Cody.”

“It’s been almost two years since he went to jail, so I guess that would fit.”

“It fits. That doesn’t mean it’s right. We’ll have to wait to see what Sheriff Reed finds out. Put the information together. See if we can get the true story.”

Morgan nodded, fatigue and pain sapping what little energy she had. There were so many unknowns. Too many. When she’d met Cody, she’d imagined him to be all her dreams wrapped up in one package. Love, marriage, family, a place to belong. She’d been wrong, but she’d learned a lot from her relationship with Cody. She’d learned that wanting something couldn’t make it happen, and she’d learned that trying hard didn’t always mean being successful.