Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) (18 page)

“Excellent.” Jake rose as the door opened to a woman in her early forties. Short black hair, sturdy build, and a skirt and jacket created the impression of a corporate executive rather than a private school teacher.

She held out a manicured hand as the principal made the introductions. “We’re all so sorry to hear about the grim discovery. What can I do to help?”

“Gathering background on the victims right now,” Jake said. “If you can, tell me what you know about Amber, Mike, and Bethany.” He indicated for her to take the seat next to his and when she did, the men took their seats.

She folded her arms. “They were about as different as three kids could be. I was surprised when the science teacher told me they were working together. They were an unlikely group.”

“Why’s that?” Jake asked.

“To put it bluntly, you had a scholarship kid, a nerd, and a jock. Most kids at this age stay in their cliques.”

“What can you tell me about Amber?”

“She was from a different world as far as these kids were concerned. Those who have big money live in a different world than the average person. We wear school uniforms at St. Vincent, but a glance at the jewelry, backpacks, shoes, watches, or the cars they drive tells everyone who has what and how much. A pecking order. Though some of the students might have liked her, none really accepted her.”

“What did you think about Amber?”

“I liked her,” Mrs. Garfield said, crossing her legs. “She wanted to be accepted, even if it appeared she didn’t seem to care. It mattered a lot to her. A lot.”

“Did she date anyone?” Jake asked.

“She dated quite a few boys. She was growing into a striking young woman, and she liked the attention she received from them. It empowered her. I cautioned her once about being careful, but she laughed and said she knew exactly what she was doing.”

“What about Mike Marlowe? They hook up?”

“I saw them a couple of times. Kissing.” She plucked a stray string from her hem. “I hear she’s back in town.”

“She was mugged last night. Apparently, someone jumped her and she struck her head hard against a curb. She needed a dozen stitches, but she’ll survive.”

Mrs. Garfield’s gaze softened with sadness. “Does anyone know she’s back? There were many who didn’t appreciate her being the lone survivor.”

“I’m not sure who she’s told. She’s staying with her mother. What about Mike? Those two hang out besides the kissing?”

“Not in school from what I could see. But I heard students talking about seeing Amber and Mike together around town.”

“Why not hang out at school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mike was a leader in the school?”

“Mike was a jock but not a leader. His father wanted the world to think he was smart and going places, but I wasn’t so sure. Short temper, mediocre intelligence, and a poor work ethic.”

“What about the kids’ parents? Know any of them?”

“I met Mike’s father once and worked with his mother on several committees. Mrs. Marlowe was dead by Mike’s freshman year.”

Jake rummaged through the facts he’d absorbed from Georgia’s synopsis. “Cancer, from what I understand.”

She hesitated. “She did have cancer, but I thought it was the fall.”

“What fall?” There was no mention of a fall anywhere. Jake would have remembered that detail.

“As I understand it, her medications made her dizzy and she fell down a flight of stairs in their home. She didn’t die immediately, but the trauma weakened her. She passed a week later. Mike was really rattled about it and understandably missed two weeks of school.”

“What else can you tell me about Mrs. Marlowe?”

“A lovely woman. Not very attractive in the classic sense but she made the best of what she had.”

No surprise that Marlowe might have married his wife for her money. It certainly wasn’t against the law. “So, we have three unlikely kids headed into the park to do a science project. These kids have anyone that didn’t like them enough to track them into the woods?”

“Mike made a few enemies,” she said. “He was a bully. Bethany went unnoticed, by and large. And there were plenty that didn’t like Amber because she wasn’t one of them.” She adjusted her glasses. “But it’s one thing to not like someone, quite another to kill.”

“Mike had a very good friend, Tim Taylor. What do you remember about him?”

“Tim was always quite the charmer. He could sweet talk his way out of any situation.” She adjusted her glasses. “I always knew he was manipulating me when he asked for an extension on a project, but he was so sweet and likable that I didn’t mind.”

“He date anyone?”

“He had a girlfriend or two but nothing serious.”

“He and Amber get along?”

“I don’t know about that. I see a lot in the classroom, but not everything.”

“What did you think of Amber’s story after she was found in the woods?” Jake asked.

“I believed her,” she said without hesitation. “She was basically a good kid, and in time would have found her way to a successful life. She didn’t ask for this trouble. It found her. When it became clear returning to school would not work for her, I offered to help her with her studies at home.”

“How’d she do?”

“Great. Ten percent of our students don’t need teachers because they’re so smart. She was one of the ten percent.”

“You don’t think she could have killed Bethany or Mike?”

She shook her head, her lips flattening into a grim line. “The cops asked me that question several times five years ago, and my answer remains the same. Amber did not kill those kids. She was poor, not evil.”

 

F
or observation purposes, Amber rested in her hospital bed, her head and shoulder aching from the fall. She shifted her weight, searching for a more comfortable position.

The doctor determined she had a mild concussion and nurses were ordered to monitor her vitals. She drifted in and out of sleep. Time drifted and the past and present blurred. One minute she was dreaming of the woods. Heart pumping, laughing, she was quizzing Bethany about the names of plants in the woods, as they hiked the long path in Percy Warner Park. Mike was teasing them both, tossing leaves at them and complaining about how slowly they walked. Amber, Mike, and Bethany had no worries.

The dream shifted, the laughter silenced, and the lightness of the day seemed to dim.

She and Mike were alone, hidden by a cluster of trees. Bethany had wandered off to collect samples. Amber flashed a sly grin and slowly dropped to her knees in front of Mike. His eyes darkened with desire as she reached for his belt and slowly unbuckled it.

As she reached for his erection, he threaded his fingers through her hair and sucked in a breath as her mouth wrapped around the tip of his penis.

Footsteps sounded in the woods, followed by the rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs. A shadow darkened over them but Mike, his eyes closed and his senses rattled, didn’t notice. And then the tip of a gun barrel pressed against Mike’s temple. The gun fired. Blood dripped down the side of his face. His body collapsed and he fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

“Mike!” Amber yelled clutching the sheets of her hospital bed and staring at the pale specter of Mike. Sweat moistened her brow and her hands trembled as she tried to shake off the confusion. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You selfish bitch,” he whispered, as he leaned toward her. “Why the fuck did you do it?”

“Go away! Leave me alone. You’re dead!”

Amber started awake, her heart racing as her gaze darted around the hospital room. Sweat dripped from her forehead. Shadows danced on the walls, bathing it all in darkness. Seconds passed before clarity pushed through the haze to take control of her mind. She was in the hospital. Safe. She raised her fingers to her temple and felt the smooth bandage on her head.

She reached for the saline IV in her arm and yanked it free, fearing suddenly that it was laced with drugs designed to rob her of the control so very necessary for her survival.

She had to get out of here. Had to get free.

A door opened and a figure appeared in the sliver of light now flooding the dimly lit room. Amber teetered between panic and relief. Who was there? Had they heard her talking in her sleep?

A nurse in scrubs stepped from the shadows. A name badge pinned to her pocket read JULIA and a stethoscope was draped around her neck. She moved into the room and inspected the IV’s injection point in Amber’s arm. “Ms. Ryder, are you all right? Why did you pull your IV out?”

“It makes my brain fuzzy.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “I feel too out of control.”

“The IV doesn’t make you fuzzy. It’s just saline. You have a head injury. That’s why you’re confused. If you stay hydrated, you’ll feel better.” The nurse frowned at the trickle of blood streaming down Amber’s arm.

“I don’t want any more.”

“You took a nasty fall. Your head has to be pounding.” Julia fumbled in her front pocket for a fresh Band-Aid and opened it. Carefully, she placed it over the hole left by the IV needle.

Amber drew her arm back, curling it up. “I don’t care about hydration. I don’t want anything else.”

The nurse rolled up the IV tube. “You look upset. Are you okay?”

“I think I had a dream.”

“I heard you fussing and carrying on as I came down the hallway.” The nurse reached for Amber’s slim wrist and pressed her first two fingers against a racing pulse. “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute.”

In the dream, the last five years had vanished and she found herself back in the woods. Mike stood before her, half naked and wanting, his eyes glazed with pleasure when she stroked him. “I usually don’t dream. It’s not like me to freak out.”

The nurse inspected the spot where the IV had been. The vein was bruised and marked where Amber’s fingernails had scraped the skin. “An assault can be very traumatic. Things just kind of short circuit for a bit.”

She moistened dry lips. “Can I have some water? Please.”

“Sure you can.” The nurse moved to the bedside table and poured a cup from a plastic pitcher marked with the name RYDER.

Amber accepted the water and gratefully drank. Cool liquid soothed her parched throat and eased the anxiety stalking her in the dream. Realizing the nurse was watching her, she offered a tentative and embarrassed smile. “Sorry to cause such a fuss.”

“Honey, that’s why I’m here. Don’t you worry about it.” She took the cup back. “Do you want some more?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” She relaxed back against the pillows, willing her racing thoughts to calm. Mike was not alive. He was dead, his body reduced to bones. “Did I say anything while I was dreaming?”

“You were shouting at Mike. You told him to leave you alone.”

She twisted the hospital band around her slim wrist. “I said the name Mike? You’re sure?”

“Very sure.” She tugged the sheet up so that it covered Amber’s chest. “It was on the news today about those two other children. To be found dead after all this time. So sad.”

Aware of the woman’s curious gaze, she offered a relaxed, if not apologetic, smile. “The police are hoping that I’ll remember what happened in the woods. Maybe my memory is coming back.”

The nurse patted Amber on the arm. “The brain heals at its own pace. Never know when you’ll have a breakthrough.”

“Let’s hope.”

Even now, as she tried to recall the dream, it faded farther and farther out of reach into the mist. “Did I say anything else other than Mike?”

“You didn’t say anything else about Mike, but I could hear the panic in your voice. You were definitely afraid.” She leaned in a fraction. “Were you afraid of Mike?”

Amber met her gaze, seeing the interest and curiosity. She dragged a trembling hand through her hair. “We were friends in high school. I was never afraid of him in school. But I don’t know about that day.”

Brown eyes deepened with concern. “Well, you sure were afraid of him in this dream. Terrified is a better word.”

She drew back, making herself look small. “Mike wouldn’t have hurt me. He was my friend.”

“You sure sounded afraid of him.”

“Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.” She steadied her smile. “What time is it?”

“Oh, it’s after lunchtime. A little after two.

“I slept the morning away?”

“Very natural you’d sleep, honey.”

Amber liked the way the nurse called her honey. She felt just a little nurtured and loved.

“I think that redheaded gal that brought you in said she called your mama.”

“Georgia Morgan.”

“That’s right. She’s a tough gal. Wouldn’t leave until she knew you were taken care of.”

“Yeah. She really came through for me last night. I’d like to call her.”

A brow arched. “Right now we’re having quiet hours. No calls in or out until three.”

“Why can’t I call her?”

“You can in a little bit. We have this time to make sure our patients rest. But as soon as it’s three, I’ll let you call out.”

Amber had always found the world irritating. This policy made no sense to her. But right now it was better to accept this small inconvenience. “Okay.”

“Now, let me get you a fresh IV. You’re skin and bone and it wouldn’t hurt for you to have another bag.”

“No drugs.”

“No drugs. I’ll be back. Can I get you a pudding cup or fruit?”

“A pudding cup would be nice. Thank you.”

She barely closed her eyes when she heard her door open. Thinking it was the nurse, she didn’t bother to look until an odd sensation tingled at the back of her skull. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Standing at the base of her bed was Dalton Marlowe. His hands fisted at his side, his sour face was pulled tight in a frown.

Instead of being afraid, she found herself studying him. The last five years had aged him. The dark hair was now more salt than pepper and the lines around his mouth and eyes had deepened. He had put on just a little weight and his once trim face had softened. He still dressed impeccably. His shirt was starched, Windsor knot tie, and a hand-tailored dark suit.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, refusing to straighten her open gown that showed a sliver of her breast. “
Mr
. Marlowe.”

He tapped his thumb against his thigh. “I heard you were back in town, but I didn’t quite believe it.”

Brushing back a strand of hair, her face remained blank with no hint of reaction. “What did you use to say about me? I’m a bad penny that just keeps showing up? Well, here I am again.” She shifted, showing more of her breast.

The expensive cologne swirled around him just as it had five years ago. “Why are you back?”

Instead of answering his question, she said, “The cops called me. They opened this can of worms.”

“A call for information is not a reason to come seven hundred miles. You’re here for your own agenda.”

She lifted her chin a fraction to prove to him she wasn’t street trash to be ignored. “Did you hear I was mugged?”

“You sure it was random? You made a lot of enemies in this town.”

“And very intimate friends, too. Did you send someone to rough me up so I would leave town? A stunt like that would be your style. You always liked it rough.”

His cheeks flushed slightly under his salon tan as he tapped an impatient finger against the smooth, Italian leather belt. “You’ve come back to taunt us, haven’t you? You became bored, didn’t you? Real life was too dull, so you came back to Nashville to stir things up until your own demented desires are satisfied.”

Something inside her bristled. From the first day he laid eyes on her, he thought of her as trash. Funny how marrying money could make a man forget humble roots. “Did you also hear I’ve been receiving threatening texts? Did you send those as well?”

Eyes narrowed. “If there were threats, you made them up.”

“The threats were real. But I’m not going to argue with you. I’ve moved on with my life. I’m happy. Places like Nashville and people like you no longer bring me happiness. I was doing fine until the texts began to arrive and then that cop called.”

Her voice seemed to buzz past him like annoying flies. “The cops will figure you out,” he said. “They’ll put it all together. There won’t be a lie standing at the end.”

She studied the man’s face, searching for even the slightest hint of softness. There was a time when she wanted him to like her. How many times did she help his simpleton son with his homework hoping to have this man toss her a kind word? If he could have accepted her, then so would the others.

But he never tossed her anything. He ignored her as if she weren’t deserving of his attention. He and all the kids at that damn private high school didn’t want her in their world. None of them really wanted her beyond her status as either a poster child for the disadvantaged, her SAT scores or her stunning looks.
Take your crumbs, Amber. Be grateful we’re allowing you in our world. Mind your manners or we’ll toss you back onto the East Nashville heap where we found you.

Amber was better than all of them. They knew it, but they would never admit it.

Suddenly, she felt very weary. This was an old fight that no longer interested her. She had other plans. The people in the isolated world of the rich didn’t matter. “There is nothing to figure out, Mr. Marlowe. I came back to help the cops solve this case and maybe figure out who’s sending me threatening texts. At least now you know what happened to Mike.”

He flinched as if she had struck him. “What the hell did you do to my boy in those damned woods?”

She smiled innocently. “I didn’t do anything. I was a victim.”

“You’ve been a predator since the day you walked into our lives.”

She studied the tension radiating from his attractive gray eyes. It felt good to know she could still unnerve him. “People might have a different take on all this if they knew more about our relationship.”

He swallowed as if his throat were raw. “You are sick.”

Ah, was that a bit of panic in his voice? “Perhaps, but I see you as the pretender. Your control of your late wife’s money is all that separates you from me. Tell me, what happens to the money now that we know Mike can’t inherit it? Isn’t there some kind of charitable trust? Or did you get your attorneys to break it?”

Another wince on his angled face told her that her words cut him. “The cops are going to keep digging,” Amber said. “You’ll see to that. But if you press them to dig too deep, there’s no telling what you’ll find.”

He gritted his teeth. “You know what happened to Mike, don’t you? He hung on every one of your words. Mike followed you like a puppy . . . worshipped that fucking body of yours.”

She moistened her lips, pulling back her shoulders so that her breasts strained against her hospital gown. “I don’t know what happened to Mike, Mr. Marlowe. My last memory of him is days before we went into the woods. Know what we were doing?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fucking,” she whispered. “We were fucking.”

“You’re a cancer. A goddamned cancer.”

“Mike and I were close. I loved him.” She met his gaze as she took a moment to study him. “He was so sweet to me. We could talk. Never argued. We shared so many secrets. Some were even about you.”

Marlowe’s jaw tightened. “You ever tell him about us?”