Possessing

Morgan

BLUE FEATHER BOOKS, LTD.

Possessing

Morgan

A BLUE FEATHER BOOK

by

Erica Lawson

NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

POSSESSING MORGAN

Copyright (c) 2009 by Erica Lawson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, save for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews.

Cover design by Ann Phillips

A Blue Feather Book

Published by Blue Feather Books, Ltd.

www.bluefeatherbooks.com

ISBN: 978-0-9822858-2-4

First edition: December, 2009

Printed in the United States of America and in the United Kingdom.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Elisa, Eva, and Isabelle for putting me on a path I had never imagined myself on, and to A.C. for giving me the courage to find out if I was good enough.

Chapter 1

Click click… click click click… ambulatory pursuit of the suspect… click click… the cursor winked accusingly at her. Ambulatory pursuit? Hell, I was running after the son of a bitch!

Detective Sergeant Morgan Riley O’Callaghan stared vacantly at the screen, trying to complete her latest report. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath to ease her frustration. Summer had taken hold of the city, and the heat was fueling her impatience. She opened her eyes to see the large ceiling fans stirring the stagnant air, blowing the smell of stale sweat, bad takeout food, old coffee, and residual smoke around without actually removing it from the room. Turning her head, she looked at the smaller portable fans perched atop filing cabinets, vainly trying to create the illusion of a breeze. Her gaze shifted to the scattered paperwork on her desk. Fluttering paper whispered over the steady hum of the overworked fans, while the muted voices of her co-workers droned in the background. She was bored, frustrated, and tense. Not a good combination for a woman of her temperament. Things were too quiet at the Fifth. The heat alone should have pushed someone over the edge to do something nasty, but that hadn’t happened. Besides the suspect apprehension she was currently trying to put to paper, and the domestic dispute being handled at the other end of the room, New York City, or her little corner of it, was behaving itself. Most unusual. What was the matter with these people? She smiled at the thought of actively encouraging someone to break the law. She would do almost anything to get out of paperwork. She was a woman of action, not a two-fingered desk jockey for the city. Just as Morgan thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, her boss, Captain Delmar Markham, strode in. With a line of sweat visible down the front of his shirt, he looked more like a frazzled newspaper editor than a precinct captain. A middle-aged, balding 1

2

man of average height, he was a twenty-year-plus veteran of the force and had worked his way up from a rookie the hard way. Or so he kept telling everyone. Behind him stood a well-dressed, elegant woman whose bearing spoke volumes to Morgan. A snob. One of those upstate society bitches. She wondered if they were on the lookout for the woman’s stinky little dog. “Listen up!” he said.

“This is the new Assistant District Attorney, Andrea Worthington.”

The woman’s smile seemed as fake as her coiffured bob.

“What happened to Gloria?” Yelena Velasquez, one of the few female officers in the precinct, asked.

“She’s been transferred to the Mayor’s Office. Ms. Worthington has come to us highly recommended from Interstate.”

“Well, a good afternoon to everyone,” Worthington said. Morgan groaned inwardly at the Southern twang. A Southern belle. The new assistant DA was a snob and a Southerner, the worst possible combination.

Morgan watched every move Worthington made, snickering at her attempts to deter Frank Morelli, Stanley Fredericks, and Jacob Lowenstein from invading her personal space. The three detectives were known as The Three Musketeers, so nicknamed because they seemed to live by the rule “all for one,” covering each other’s butts in times of crisis. They were the three laziest sons of bitches she’d ever met.

They’d been in the department for years, and they still hadn’t been shit-canned. Was it because they had someone higher up covering their worthless asses, or was it just plain dumb luck? Whatever it was, they didn’t deserve the breaks they got. They seemed to be able to do whatever they wanted, looking busy in front of their superiors, but from what Morgan had observed, never doing any real work. She ached to plant her foot firmly up their butts. She had been careful about her career, staying as far away from them as humanly possible. They had a knack for being in the right place at the right time. They took whatever credit they could grab, while making the real detective look like an idiot. And yet they still hadn’t been promoted. Perhaps God was watching after all. The young ADA seemed to have her hands full as Morelli slobbered all over her. Worthington glanced at her, their gazes meeting for a split second before she turned her attention back to the jabbering detective. Morelli’s smile faded while Worthington talked, which moved her up a notch in Morgan’s estimation. Anyone who could get that sort of reaction from Morelli earned a silver star.

3

Morgan caught snatches of the conversation, and it seemed Worthington didn’t like being called “Andy.” Morgan looked long and hard at her. No, she wasn’t an “Andy.” The name Andrea flowed like molasses off the tongue. A sensual name. No, no, no, Morgan, get that thought right out of your head. She studied Andrea in her peripheral vision. Andrea was around five foot three, and she was a pretty little thing. Well, little in Morgan’s eyes because she herself was a shade under five foot ten. Morgan looked directly at Andrea for a moment. Was she a natural blonde? She couldn’t tell from this distance, but there didn’t seem to be any obvious dark roots. Maybe she was. Morgan dismissed the thoughts and returned to typing her annoying report.

* * *

The mumble in response to her “hello” was less than amiable, and Andrea knew she was in for a battle to be accepted by this crowd. She had worked very hard to get where she was, going against her family’s wishes when she accepted the position in the DA’s Office. The disapproving angle of a raised eyebrow and the pursing of carefully outlined lips told her what her mother thought of her decision to move up North, and to New York, no less. She fought tooth and nail to get this job, trying to persuade family and friends alike that she was doing the right thing just after getting engaged. While her marriage was still a ways off, she was getting nervous about it. At first, the decision to seek the position seemed frivolous, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed right. She was not running away, and no one was going to convince her otherwise.

She studied the cluttered room. In this heat, the smell invaded her olfactory senses with the subtlety of the South Carolina Gamecocks locker room. If holding her breath until she passed out would have worked, she would have done just that. The detectives moved toward her in a polite welcome, but her attention was caught by a lone figure at the back, sitting in front of a computer and silently watching her over the top of the monitor. A female detective with striking features and rich red-orange hair that was pulled back from her face. Their eyes met for just a moment before the detective returned to her work, leaving Andrea to wonder what affront she had caused. “Pay no attention to O’Callaghan, Andy. She’s always like that.” The speaker’s mouth turned up into a sneer.

4

“I’m Andrea Worthington, Detective. And you are?”

“The name’s Detective Frank Morelli. At your service, ma’am. But you can call me anything you want, Counselor.”

The accompanying smile, and all that it implied, left Andrea feeling uncomfortable. She had been propositioned by the best of them, but no one had left such a sour aftertaste. “And these gentlemen with you?”

“Oh, yeah. These are my partners, Detectives Stanley Fredericks and Jacob Lowenstein. Gentlemen, say hello to the nice lady.” The two lanky men standing behind Morelli snickered at some joke that escaped her. She made a mental note to avoid contact with them if she could, but by the way Morelli’s gaze kept raking over her, she suspected he had other ideas. Andrea looked for an escape and internally sighed with relief when the captain signaled her from across the squad room. “Nice to meet y’all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Captain Markham.”

“Sure, Andy.” Andrea tried to stop the shudder as Morelli addressed her.

“Please, Detective, don’t call me that.” The almost comical look of offense on his face grated on her nerves even more.

“Whatever you say, Counselor.”

“Thank you.” Andrea left Morelli frowning as his two friends laughed at his expense. She met Markham at the doorway, and he escorted her to his office.

“Please, sit down, Ms. Worthington.”

“Please, Captain, call me Andrea. If we’re going to be working together, let’s drop the formality.”

“Okay, Andrea. The name’s Delmar. The DA has been in touch with me and given me a brief rundown on your duties. The Fifth is your home base, so to speak, but you’ll also cover cases from nearby precincts. I have an office set aside for you, if you want to see it now. However, it’s nearly change of shift, and I, for one, will be glad to get out of this oven.”

“Good idea.” Andrea glanced at her watch. “Perhaps I’ll go back to my apartment, and we can start fresh in the morning.”

“Everyone’s heading over to a local bar—McGee’s—for a drink. How about you come along and meet the rest of the people you’ll be working with?” When she hesitated, he said, “Think of it as a continuation of your social visit here. Besides, they have air conditioning and cold drinks.”

“That sounds fine,” Andrea said.

5

He moved toward the door, and they left the precinct. There was barely a whisper of a breeze as Andrea and Delmar walked the block to the bar. The rest of the detectives had spread out across the sidewalk, chatting amiably about the day’s events, though O’Callaghan remained alone.

“Delmar?” Andrea asked, after glancing at her.

“Hmm?”

“Is that detective a problem?”

“Sergeant O’Callaghan? No. Why?”

“She’s walking alone, and from what I’ve observed, no one seems to be talking to her.” And she pointedly ignored me at the station house, Andrea mentally added. So what was it that O’Callaghan didn’t like about her? They hadn’t even met, and she already had an opinion?

“Don’t believe everything you’re told. Morgan’s a good detective. In fact, one of the best I’ve ever seen. She just doesn’t tolerate fools easily. To be her friend, you have to earn it.”

“Does she have a partner?”

He pointed to a young Asian man, shorter in stature than O’Callaghan, but who walked with an athletic grace, like a large cat on the prowl. “Detective Henry Chang. Good, solid cop and a family man. They’re a pretty good match.”

“Tell me about her.” Andrea’s opportunities to find out more about the elusive detective could be few and far between. If the captain was willing to talk, then she was prepared to listen.

“It’s not my place to discuss my detectives, Counselor. If you have any further questions, it’s probably better to ask Sergeant O’Callaghan herself.”

As the captain spoke, Andrea studied Morgan, who was walking several yards in front of her. Her attention was drawn first to the long legs. Tall and well proportioned, she walked with strength and authority and just a hint of a swagger, which seemed to suit her. Interesting woman, Andrea decided. And for some reason, she wanted to know more about her.

“Duly noted, Captain.”

Delmar escorted Andrea through the heavy oak doors of McGee’s, and they were hit by the chill of the air conditioning working at full force. Andrea’s eyes had to adjust to the darkened room before she was able to discern the layout. Voices called in greeting, some of which Delmar responded to. Many of the men and women in the bar had a look that labeled them as detectives: that rumpled, worn-out facade that came from long

6

hours of polite demeanor and even longer hours of work. McGee’s was obviously the local watering hole of a large segment of the detective fraternity.

So this was where the cops, the detectives, and the very heart of the New York City Police Department lived, where common bonds of friendship and hardship were discussed, secured, and dissected in a setting that allowed hierarchies to be crossed. Andrea had never been in this sort of environment, and it was an education to see the camaraderie that existed here.

While she recounted some cases from her native Charleston, South Carolina, to a few of the detectives of the Fifth, she searched for Morgan and spotted her drinking quietly in the corner. A loner, and yet she seemed comfortable with that.

Andrea could sense Morgan watching her, drawing her gaze. Being observed like that unnerved her. When she could stand it no longer, she stood. “Excuse me, y’all.” Even to her own ears, her Southern twang sounded foreign in the midst of the various New York City accents.

“Everything all right, Andy?”

She glared at him. Morelli would just not learn. “Fine, thank you. Just going to the restroom.”

“I’ll keep your seat warm.” He patted the cushion in invitation, and she knew she had to find somewhere else to sit.

* * *

Morgan ordered a Black and Tan and moved to a quiet corner of the bar to stand. She leaned casually against the wooden wall and sipped her drink. Content to watch, she allowed the banter to roll over her as she unwound from the frustrating day of seemingly endless paperwork. Most of her fellow detectives were sitting around one large table, eagerly listening to the new ADA. With so few new personnel in the precinct recently, they were starved for new anecdotes. They were so bored they’d listen to air escaping a balloon.

She watched the exchange between Andrea and Morelli. Knowing him as she did, she could just imagine the pickup lines he was trying. Andrea stood and walked toward the restroom. Morgan figured it was time to head on home.

“Is there some reason that you’re ignoring me, Sergeant?”

Morgan turned her head too quickly and grimaced at the jolt of pain down her neck. “No. What gave you that idea, Counselor?”

7

“Please, call me Andrea,” Andrea said matter-of-factly.

“Something you want?”

“Does something about me annoy you, or do you treat everyone you meet the same way?”

Morgan didn’t want to answer, but the silence was interminable. “Look, here’s the deal. I’m not one for idle conversation, Counselor. If you have something to say, now’s the time, because I’m going home.” Morgan set her glass on the bar.

“You’re assuming that I don’t want to talk to you. Up until now that was never my intention. However, your lack of manners doesn’t inspire me to continue this conversation.”

“Maybe you should listen to your inspiration, then.”

“What have I done to offend you?”

“Nothing. Good night.”

Morgan made a move to leave, but Andrea brought up her hand to halt her. “No, there’s something else. Spit it out now. Let’s get it on the table.”

“You’re expecting a lot here.” Morgan tried to sidestep her, but clearly Andrea wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Morgan regarded her coolly. “I don’t like you.”

“You’ve barely met me, and you’ve already decided that?”

“I know your type, Counselor.”

“My type? What? I’m a woman? I’m blonde? I’m a lawyer? What?”

“You’re a stuck-up little rich girl playing God. You haven’t worked a hard day in your well-manicured life.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Andrea was angry. Her rigid body, stiff upper lip, and flashing dark eyes were enough to tell Morgan she had stepped over the line. Andrea pulled her toward the back of the room into a little alcove, out of sight from the others. “Just who the hell do you think you are? I’m not going to take that from anyone!”

Morgan waved a hand. “Go back to the table. I’ll try to be more civil in the future. Good night, Ms. Worthington.” With that, Morgan left the bar.

As she stepped out into the summer heat, she vented her anger by kicking the door. Her hands bunched into fists, and she looked around for something to hit. In a way, she was glad nothing was near, at least nothing that wouldn’t break her hand. Finally, she made an effort to allow the conversation, and the ADA, to fade

8

away. It wasn’t going to happen easily, but at least she was trying. In disgust she muttered, “Fuck it.”

Andrea watched Morgan walk away, her long braid moving with her broad back. Morgan didn’t look at her once. Andrea stood for a moment, trying to sort out exactly what had just happened. Her own defenses had gone up at the hostility rolling off Morgan, and she had been unable to stop her angry words. She left the alcove and saw the leering face of Frank Morelli.

“Hey, Andy!”

Andrea’s emotions were roiling, and she was in the mood to smack the ugly smile off his face. And if he said that one more time, she swore she’d knock his ass straight into Christmas. She made her way back to the table.

“I kept your spot warm.”

She looked at him with distaste. What would she have to do for the man to take the hint?

“Come on, Andy, what are you waiting for?” Morelli smacked the waiting seat.

She simply couldn’t believe this man’s audacity. Back home, his ass would have left a skid mark on the sidewalk from the speed he would have been kicked out the door, and she would have enjoyed doing the kicking herself. She leaned over and whispered in Morelli’s ear, “If you call me that one more time, I’ll cut off your balls and serve them to you on a platter. And if you don’t stop looking down my blouse, I’ll throw in your eyeballs for free.”

She straightened and caught Morelli whispering to Jay Lowenstein next to him. “Dyke.”

“No, just showing some taste. You haven’t figured out women yet, Morelli?” She gave him her best Southern belle smile. She was very close to exploding there and then, but a full-fledged tantrum before her first day of work was probably not the most ideal beginning. Memorable, but not ideal.

The weasel smiled a sickly sweet smile at her, his dark eyes locking with hers triumphantly. He was the ultimate male chauvinist, and she was mentally grinding her teeth in aggravation.

“Thank you kindly,” she said, “for such a lovely day. And Morelli, be glad I’m not a dyke because I’d have my big, scary, butch girlfriend ram a crowbar so far up your ass you’d choke on it.” She flashed him another smile. “Then again, you might like that kind of thing, especially from a woman. Now excuse me, Mr. Morelli. I have to refresh my drink.” Andrea turned and left the 9

table before she said something she would really be sorry for, but she did take some comfort from the jeers Morelli received as a result of her comments.

As she approached the bar, she muttered, “Prick.”

“Well, he certainly is that.”

She glanced to her left where Morgan’s partner was standing, fingering his empty glass as he waited for the bartender. “We haven’t been formally introduced, Counselor. I’m Henry Chang.”

He extended his hand and warmly shook it when Andrea offered hers.

“Andrea Worthington. It’s nice to meet you. Do I have a bull’seye tattooed on my forehead? Who was their target last week?”

He laughed. “Ah, Andy, you’ll fit in just fine.” He watched her when he said the name, as if waiting for a reaction, and continued to chuckle as she ordered another drink. He stopped long enough to add his own request to the order.

Andrea leaned over and in a mock whisper said, “Just don’t use that name in front of him, please.”

“Of course not.” He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and grabbed the two drinks. “No, Counselor, please allow me. C’mon, let’s see if we can find a place somewhere else.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Andrea smiled in relief. She followed Henry to a recently vacated table in the back, graciously accepting the tall drink placed in front of her. He sat down opposite her and gently swirled the tumbler he held in his hands.

“So, what brought you to the Big Apple?”

“A plane.” Andrea winked at him, and he seemed to appreciate it.

“I’m glad someone has a sense of humor around here.”

“Is it that bad?” A dreary working environment… great. Andrea was already dreading work tomorrow.

“Nah, but things can get a little tense.”

“Tense? Let me guess. Sergeant O’Callaghan.”

“She has her off moments, but she’s a good cop.” He looked over his drink at her. “What’s the Andrea Worthington story?”

“You really want to know? Or is it for office gossip tomorrow?” He looked hurt, and she softened her tone. “I’m sorry, Henry. It’s just that the reception here has been less than hospitable.”

“I saw that. My apologies for Morgan. I’ve never seen her act like that before.”

10

“Never mind. I’ll just have to remember to stay out of her way for a while.”

“I wish you didn’t have to. She’s a little reserved, but she’s okay with everyone, even when they don’t deserve it.”

“I must have gotten some special treatment, then.”

“She’s got a bug up her ass about you, that’s for sure. Just give her time. Oh, don’t worry. She didn’t spill the beans, but I do tend to watch out for my partner.” He stopped for a sip of alcohol. “Now, back to my question. What’s the Andrea Worthington story?”

“Hmm. Where do I begin? I’m from Charleston, if you hadn’t heard. My family has been in Charleston for as long as anyone can remember.”

“Fine, you’re from Charleston. I got that. Now give me the juicy stuff.”

“I thought that was the juicy stuff.”

“Ah, a smart-ass in our midst. You don’t get appointed ADA on a whim.”

“I’ve mostly worked in private practice.”

“I assumed that.”

“How so?”

“Well, just look at you. You don’t dress like Legal Aid.”

“Oh, I did my time as public defender, believe me.”

“Straight from Legal Aid, huh? That’s impressive.”

“Not really, no. I did a bit more work here and there.”

“Here and there?”

“The City Prosecutor’s Office as well. About three years. You know, small stuff.” She smiled wickedly.

“Living on both sides of the fence, huh?”

“Legal Aid was a very enlightening experience, believe me, but it infuriated me how criminals used the judicial system to their own end, so I changed sides. I still believe everyone is innocent until proven guilty, just not so vehemently. Now I fight for truth, justice, and the American way.”

Henry laughed. “Do you have a Lycra suit hidden away in your purse? You are an unusual person, Andrea Worthington.”

“Not really.”

“From what I know about attorneys, once a prosecutor always a prosecutor.”

“True, but then how would I know how a criminal thinks? I’ve heard every excuse in the book, and then some.”

“Ha! Oh, hey, you any relation to that big shot investment realtor, Jefferson Worthington?”

11

“So you know Daddy?” Andrea smiled sweetly as his jaw dropped.

“Wow. You’re like really, really rich, huh?”

“I’m not starving, honey, if that’s what you’re asking. The money belongs to my parents, not me. I’m a bit stubborn that way.”

“You? Stubborn? No, couldn’t be.” He grinned.

“Good,” she said chuckling. “Very good. I can see you’re going to keep me on my toes.” He was teasing her mercilessly, but his cheeky grin took the sting out of it. She decided she liked him. A lot.

“Someone has to.”

“True. So you can call me Andy. You’ve earned it.”

“I can see you’ve been talking to the captain, huh?” When he saw the questioning look on her face, he continued. “About Morgan. The captain says the same thing to everyone who asks about her.”

“Have you earned her trust?”

“Yes, but I’m her partner, so it’s expected.”

“True.”

“There are maybe two or three people outside her family whom she trusts implicitly. It’s a very personal thing, and I try to keep it on a professional level at work, especially around those three.” His head nodded in the direction of the large table at the front. Andrea knew exactly who he was talking about.

“I suspect you’re probably the closest she has to a friend in the precinct.” She raised the glass and took a sip before continuing.

“Why is she like that?”

“She wasn’t always a loner. Or so I’ve been told. A bit before my time, though. What I’m about to tell you about Mo is secondhand knowledge. I think I can trust you, but please don’t repeat it to anyone.”

Andrea wanted to ask about the nickname, but let it rest for now. She ran her finger over her chest, making the sign of a cross, and held up three fingers in a Scout salute. She leaned back against the soft padded bench, waiting to hear what she was sure would be an interesting piece of the puzzle that was Morgan O’Callaghan.

“Morgan’s dad was still around in those days. Lieutenant Michael O’Callaghan. ‘Mickey’ to everyone. He was a bit of a legend on the force. A no-nonsense cop who didn’t tolerate corruption within the ranks, and there was a lot of it back then. Morgan had just come out of the police academy and was in her first post.”

12

Andrea tried to envision Morgan as a rookie cop, and a smile crossed her lips at the thought of her following in her dad’s footsteps.

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing at first, but she was ‘Mickey’s girl.’ No one’s really sure what changed her, but it must have been something pretty dramatic. After she got her promotion to the detective division, she had clammed up. She was popular before then—outgoing, friendly, someone who’d go out of her way to help you.”

“And now?”

“Well, you’ve seen her. Whoever had that much of an impact on her must have been someone close. She won’t talk about it, so anything now is speculation.” He stopped and gave Andrea a look.

“You seem awfully interested in our little Morgan.”

“I’m just trying to understand her hostility toward me. I’ve got to work with y’all, and I don’t need some quarrel to upset our working relationship.” There was a moment of silence before she added, “Whatever that will be.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And just what are you insinuating there, sir?”

“Nothing.” He grabbed Andrea’s hand and looked at the engagement ring glittering on her finger. “Seems congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks. We’re getting married next year. A typical June wedding.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“This position is very important to me. I couldn’t pass the opportunity up.”

“Uh-huh.”

She pursed her lips at his implication. “You don’t believe me?”

“Where’s the lucky guy?”

“Back in Charleston.”

“Is this going to be a long-distance wedding or something?”

“Of course not. He’ll be joining me in six months, once he gets things in order back home.” She took another sip of her drink, hoping that the action would put a stop to Chang’s questions, but the look in his eye told her she wasn’t kidding anyone. “Thank you for your candor concerning Sergeant O’Callaghan,” she said, trying to change the subject. “What have I done to garner such special treatment from her?” When no answer came, she stared across the table. “What?”

“You don’t want to hear my theory on that.”

13

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Time will tell whether I’m right,” he said off-handedly.

“So, I have to wait to see whether she’s going to hit me or not?”

“She won’t hit you.” He smiled at her. “Unless, of course, you do something to deserve it.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“That ‘cat eating the canary’ type of look.”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He glanced away, and she knew this particular conversation was now closed.

* * *

Morgan entered her apartment. It was just as hot as the precinct and perfectly matched her mood. Hot and irritated. She pressed against the door, shifting her weight so that she was leaning against the wood as the door shut. Her head dropped. “Damn, damn, damn.”

Why had she been stupid enough to react? It was too damned hot to lose control like that. For some unknown reason, Worthington had hit a nerve with her, drawing a knee-jerk reaction that was totally out of character. At least she hoped it was out of character. Morgan knew she could be a bit abrupt sometimes, but the abrasive conversation she had with the woman was bordering on hostile. For now she let the matter rest. She was too hot and tired to make any decisions.

She wandered through the living room, strewn with secondhand furniture and old family knickknacks, and went to the kitchen. After opening the aging refrigerator and studying its contents, she settled on a six pack of beer. She grabbed one and put the cold bottle against her neck, rolling it over her skin. She popped the top then moved over to the window, opening it wide and praying for a breeze. She climbed through and took a seat on the fire escape. As she slowly drank the beer, she watched the sun change from yellow to crimson as the day came to a close. Twice she went to the fridge for more beer. She began to unwind, the alcohol soothing her nerves. Breathing deeply, she tasted New York City in the back of her throat. But it was the more subtle aromas that she sought, or more

14

precisely, the smell of cooking cabbage. She closed her eyes, allowing her memories to surface.

Cabbage. How that smell reminded her of home. It had been their staple diet when she was growing up, and she had grown to hate it. Now she would give her eyeteeth to taste her mother’s cooking one last time.

She missed her family, recalling them all seated around a small crowded table. Her dad’s meager wages barely put food on the table and clothes on their backs. Those days were tough times, and yet they were the happiest of her life. That was when she had family. Her mother was still alive, and her three brothers were still at home. After her mom died, the boys scattered across the country. Danny moved to Boston to become a fireman, Conall moved to Miami to open one of those fancy disco bars, and the eldest, Brennan, got his law degree and moved to San Francisco. They left Morgan alone to fulfill their father’s dream of becoming a New York City cop to continue the O’Callaghan legacy. She didn’t mind, because she loved the job, but the way she had been left to take care of it all and to look after her dad made her angry every time she thought about it. There was no discussion or agreement before they left. They came home for their father’s funeral, but they stayed only long enough to say goodbye before returning to their careers and lives.

From that moment, she had no family. The boys showed her no sympathy, no comfort, no assistance. They earned her condemnation for it, too. And now she was alone.

She mulled her latest problem. Andrea Worthington. She just knew the counselor would be trouble. As the last of the remaining light faded, Morgan watched the first stars appear. “Star light, star bright.”

She made a wish but she knew it was a wish that couldn’t be granted. It wasn’t within her power to turn back time.

* * *

Despite enthusiastic encouragement from her future coworkers, Andrea returned to her apartment early. Boxes and packing cases had arrived from Charleston a few days ago, and she had to negotiate them to get to the bedroom. A reminder of all that unpacking to do. She had just taken the New York City bar exam, a requirement to start her new position, and if things weren’t busy 15

enough, now Sergeant O’Callaghan had taken a personal dislike to her.

The day had been long and tiring. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and get some sleep. Then she remembered her mother wanted to talk to her as often as possible, as much to constantly beg her to come home as to receive the daily report on her daughter’s health. Dreading the call, Andrea changed out of her suit into her well-worn jeans. If she had to talk to her mother, then she would do so rebelliously.

She pulled her cell out of her bag and pushed speed dial one. Before the first ring had finished, the call was answered.

“So what happened?” her mother said.

Andrea’s hand tightened on the phone. She should have expected it. Not even a “Hello” or “How are you, dear?” Typical.

“I don’t start until tomorrow. It was just a social visit.”

“Have you talked to Joel yet?”

“Yes.” Not that their conversation was up for discussion with her mother. She had learned that lesson the hard way.

“And?”

“And we talked.”

“Andrea, dear, you have to learn to be more forthcoming.”

“What Joel and I talk about is none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business, dear. I’m your mother.”

Andrea’s decision to move to New York City was looking better by the moment. If she had any doubts, they were being washed away by her mother’s general abrasiveness.

“You know your father could have—”

“It’s my life and my decision to make. This move to New York was good for my career.”

“And what could that Yankee town offer that Charleston couldn’t?”

“Connections. This step could lead in a number of very beneficial directions for me.”

“But you won’t be working once you’re married.”

“I’m not going to become the breeding cow for this family.”

“Wash your mouth, young lady.” There was a pause at the other end of the line. “You know very well that if you don’t produce an heir, the family ends with you.”

“Stop being so melodramatic. There are plenty of uncles and cousins who could easily take up the mantle.”

“Over my dead body.” Andrea imagined the pulsing vein in her mother’s head throbbing violently as her blood pressure rose.

16

“There is no way in hell I’m letting any of those jackals get their hands on our fortune.” There was a pause in the conversation.

“Andrea, dear, please don’t talk like that. We need your support here. I don’t think you realize—”

“I’m well aware of what’s at stake.” How many times had her mother used that argument to stifle her independence? “I need to get an early night’s sleep. First day on the job tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Good night, Mother.” Andrea hung up quickly before her mother could add anything further. She reached for her purse to find some Tylenol in the hopes of alleviating the headache that seemed to surface on a regular basis after a conversation with her mother. What was it about her today? First Morelli tried to hit on her with his sleazy pickup lines, then O’Callaghan lashed out at her because of an uninformed opinion, and now her mother—well, her mother was just being her mother, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Even though she was exhausted, Andrea resorted to unpacking some of the boxes littering her living room in the hope that it would burn off some residual aggravation before she slept. After all, tomorrow was another day.

Chapter 2

Morgan hadn’t slept well. She was lucky if she’d gotten four hours as she tossed and turned on her rumpled bed, well after the heat wave had broken in the middle of the night. She now sat in her chair at work, her chin buried in her hands as she stared vacantly at the open files strewn across her desk.

“Looks like you could use this.”

Morgan didn’t even bother looking up but just extended her hand for the mug she knew would be placed there in a matter of seconds. A quiet chuckle echoed in her ears as Henry complied with the silent request.

“Have problems sleeping?”

Morgan heard sarcasm in his voice. “No. Just ran ten miles this morning. I’m exhausted.”

“I know damned well you didn’t. You hate running.” Henry paused. “You were a little rough on Andy last night.”

She looked up into his dark brown eyes and thought, again, that he saw everything. “She has no right being here.”

“You think so? Why not?”

“Come on, Henry. A society girl like her doesn’t belong here. She should be out searching for some rich husband to look after her.”

“You didn’t see the ring, I take it.”

“A ring? That only reinforces my argument. She’s getting married, so why bother getting a new job? Give it to some poor sap who needs it.”

“And you call yourself a detective.” Henry tempered his comment with a wide grin. “But if you behave yourself, I’ll fill you in.”

“I don’t want to know,” Morgan mumbled into her coffee cup.

“Of course you want to know. Don’t give me any of that crap.”

“Crap? Bullshit. It’s bullshit.”

“Do you want to hear or not?”

17

18

“No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me anyway.” But it wasn’t true. She did want to know.

“She’s engaged.”

“That’s usually what that sort of ring is for.”

“They’re getting married in about eleven months. He’s back in Charleston finishing up some business, and then he’s moving here. That gives you a few weeks to make a better impression.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry. No one else knows.”

“No one else knows what?”

“Come on. I’ve known you nearly three years, and in all that time, you’ve never gone out once.”

“I most certainly have. Lots of times, and with men, as I recall.”

“Those were official functions, and you never saw them again.”

“Since when did you become my social director?”

“Mo,” he said softly, “here’s your chance to make up for your bad behavior last night.”

“And what does that have to do with the fiance?”

“Do you think once he’s here he’ll want her to spend time with you?”

“Will you just spit it out?” Morgan wasn’t sure what Henry was getting at.

“She’s surrounded by men, Morgan, as are you. Wouldn’t you like to have a friend who isn’t male? Someone you could talk to about girl stuff?”

“Me? Girl stuff? Are we talking about the same person here?”

“Yeah, I know, strange isn’t it? I think you could both use a friend. Someone you can talk to who doesn’t have a Ph.D. after her name.”

“So you want me to make friends with her. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, you can become her girlfriend.” Morgan’s eyes widened, and he laughed.

“Are you crazy? Do you know how that will look?”

“But you’ll know the truth, so what does it matter?”

“It might not matter to you or me, but Morelli will have a field day. Why do you think I need a girlfriend anyway?”

A raised eyebrow answered her question, but she stared back at him steadily. “You know, Red, you must think I’m deaf, dumb, and blind sometimes, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking that question right now.”

19

“Well, I am asking, bucko. Just because there’s no one in my life at present doesn’t mean anything.”

“And what about what’s-his-name the other week? You cut him off at the knees before he even opened his mouth. What’s up with you?”

“He was an ass. A complete idiot. Why would I go out with him?”

“Morgan, if you’re going to play the game, you have to go out with someone. This nun act isn’t cutting it.”

“That’s not it at all. I just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“Do you hear yourself? You said ‘the right person,’ not ‘the right man.’ You can’t even lie about it.” He moved a little closer.

“Come on, what have you got to lose?”

She hesitated. How could she have thought she could hide this from him forever? “For the sake of argument, let’s say I am, but I’m not admitting to it because I’ve got a lot to lose. My career, my friends, my sanity,” she whispered. “Are you suggesting that I break up her engagement?”

“Don’t go putting words into my mouth. I’m not suggesting that at all, but couldn’t you at least stop the hostility and get to know her? She hasn’t done anything to deserve it, you know. Besides, all she did was talk about you after you left.”

“Cursing me, no doubt.” Morgan stifled a sigh. Maybe she’d screwed up, being that harsh.

“At first, yes, but she kept asking me questions about you.”

Morgan idly traced the words on the page in front of her with a finger.

“What’s the harm in getting to know her?” he asked. “Sooner or later you’ll be working the same case. Then what are you going to do? Talk to her through a third party?”

“Don’t be so stupid.”

Henry glanced up as the door swung open. “Here’s your chance.”

Andrea approached the coffeemaker with a brand new mug in her hand. She glanced toward Morgan, who pretended not to look at her.

“I think I need a refill, O’Callaghan,” Henry said. “Would you please grab me one while I finish up here?”

Morgan gave him one of her best interrogation stares for putting her in an awkward situation as she snatched the mug out of his hand. “I’ll get you for this,” she said under her breath, the sound

20

of the shifting chair covering her muttered expletives. Still, she had insulted Andrea last night, and she should at least offer an apology.

“Ah, Sergeant, good morning,” Andrea said.

“Good—” Morgan’s voice broke on the word. Clearing her throat, she began again. “Good morning, Counselor. Are you settling in okay?” She glanced back at Henry, and a wide grin split his face as his hands motioned her to continue.

“I am. Thank you, Sergeant.”

“You… ah… you can call me Morgan.”

Andrea looked up at her. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “Then, by all means, please call me Andrea.”

Morgan nodded in acknowledgement. “So how has your first morning been so far?”

“Not bad. I’m acquainting myself with some of the cases I’ll be handling. This afternoon I’ll be in court to observe, getting a feel for the New York City judicial system.”

“Good to hear. Everyone treating you okay?” Morgan avoided eye contact.

There was a slight pause before Andrea answered softly. “Yes, now they are.”

Morgan could feel the blush on her skin, knowing very well that her freckles would be standing out on her skin like sunspots. “I hope The Three Musketeers aren’t giving you too much trouble,”

she said, plowing on.

“Three Musketeers?”

“Morelli and his cronies. He likes to test the waters, so to speak.”

“I think I cooled his ardor a bit last night.” Morgan stared blankly and Andrea continued. “I threatened to cut his balls off. Then I offered to throw in his eyeballs for free when I caught him looking down my blouse.”

Morgan grudgingly admitted to herself that she might actually like Andrea’s spunk. The image was so vivid that she laughed and shook her head in amazement. Andrea smiled in response to her reaction.

“What I would give to have seen that,” Morgan said. “I’ll bet his eyeballs nearly popped out of his head.”

“Well, if you hadn’t left, you could have.”

Morgan shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry, Andrea,” she mumbled.

“It was very rude of me.”

21

“Yes, it was.” Morgan had expected a brush off, not a confirmation. “But I’ll live. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself.”

“Are you any good?”

“If you really want to know, I have a case tomorrow morning at District Court One. If you have time, stop by and find out for yourself.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. I hope I can create a good impression then. Thanks for chatting. I’d better get back to work.”

“Until tomorrow then. Good luck.” Morgan turned around to find herself being watched. “What? Just being friendly, that’s all.”

She heard the quiet laughs. “God, grow up will you? Get back to work.” Stomping back to her desk, she glared at Henry as she approached. “Now look what you’ve done. It’s going to be all over the station house.”

“Probably.” Henry’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

“What did I do? I was just being friendly like you wanted me to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And just for that, you and I are going to the gym at lunch so I can pound you into the mat for trying to make me look like an idiot.”

“Me? I don’t think so.”

“Henry,” she growled, “just stay out of this, all right?”

He stood there smiling for a moment before answering. “Uhhuh.”

“I’ve made nice, now drop it.” Morgan’s voice deepened and Henry took the hint.

“O’Callaghan!” Markham bellowed across the room.

“Sir?” Morgan’s brash exterior fell back into place.

“Where is that damn report? Markiewicz. Remember? It was supposed to be on my desk first thing.”

“Oh, sh—It’s done, sir. Give me a second, and I’ll print it out.”

She quickly accessed the file on her computer and pressed Print, shoving aside one of the younger members of the division to get to the communal printer. She trotted up to the front, handed over the report, and moved away before the captain could comment. As she passed Morelli’s desk, he pursed his lips and kissed the air.

“Laugh it up,” she muttered. “You’re next, cupcake.”

22

As if he had read her mind, the captain bellowed, “Morelli, in my office. Now!”

Morgan smiled to herself as she returned to her desk.

* * *

Lunchtime couldn’t come fast enough. It had been one of those mornings that should have ended when she woke up. Her confrontation with Worthington the night before had confused her, and now her concentration was suffering for it. First it was the report on Markiewicz, then mislaid phone messages, lost pens, and restless detectives. In a way, she felt sorry for Henry because she was really pissed and he was the one who was going to bear the brunt of her anger. Maybe she should take some of her frustration out on a punching bag first before giving Henry the same treatment.

“Hey, Henry!” she called.

He looked up from his computer. “Yeah?”

“I’m heading off early to get a jump on the equipment. See you in about ten?”

“Sure, I’ll just finish up this report and I’ll be right behind you.” He went back to the keyboard, his fingers moving competently over the letters.

Morgan headed toward the locker room down the hall. She nearly ran into Andrea, who was walking along the corridor engrossed in a file. “Whoa! Hey there, Counselor.”

Andrea looked up, and Morgan was surprised to see her wearing wire-rimmed glasses. “Sorry, Sergeant. I didn’t see you there.”

Morgan was surprised by how much Andrea’s visage had changed. The delicate glasses were perched on her upturned nose, barely grazing the beauty mark that sat high on her left cheek. “Um, sorry to interrupt.” She brushed past Andrea and made her way toward the locker room. Once inside, she rummaged through her locker for her duffel bag and slammed the metal door shut with a bang.

She walked briskly along the street before she broke into a run and covered the block to the gym in mere seconds. She changed into shorts and a tank top, bound her knuckles with tape, and slipped on her boxing gloves.

Facing the leather bag, she let the frustrations of the day surface to feed her strength and speed as she started pummeling the bag. All the sitting around was boring. What she really needed was 23

a nice juicy case to sink her teeth into. Something had to give, and soon.

The bag felt like a brick wall against her fist, the pain shifting up her arms to her shoulders as she punched. Her thoughts drifted to the morning’s conversation with Henry. What on earth was he trying to do? Get her blackballed? One hint that she was gay, and no one would want to work with her.

“You took your own sweet time,” she said when Henry arrived. She wanted to throw something around, in this case her partner for stirring up trouble.

“Sorry. Markham caught me as I was about to leave. He had a couple of questions about my report. Ready to eat the mat, Big Red?”

“I don’t think so, pal. I’m in the mood for a little Chinese.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. Do your best.”

“I intend to, especially after that prank you pulled this morning.”

“Someone had to.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, shifting his attention to her hands as she circled him.

“No, you didn’t. Ha!” She launched her attack, lashing out with her right foot toward his midsection. Henry doubled over momentarily, backing away and rubbing his stomach.

“That’s one for you, grasshopper. And that’s all you’re going to get.” He smiled wickedly at her.

For the next twenty minutes they exchanged blows, sparring and laughingly insulting each other. Morgan thought she finally had Henry on the ground when he reached up and yanked her to the mat by her hair.

“Hey! No fair.”

“Probably not, but I doubt the bad guys have read the rule book.”

She rolled away from him, and they both lay panting.

“Why don’t you cut your hair?” Henry asked after a few moments.

“I would. But think Whoopi Goldberg.”

Henry looked over at her. “I’m tending to think more a Sixties flower child, but your image works just as well. Why not cut it real short then? Get rid of the frizz altogether?”

“Great. Then I’ll look like a dyke.”

“Aren’t they calling you that now?” He grinned to take the sting out of the comment.

24

“I have one word for you. Morelli. He thinks I’m butch as it is. No steady male presence and I dress like a guy, so if I have short hair, that’ll really do it.”

“Would it be that bad?”

“You know that I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think. They’re morons and you know it.”

“Then what is it?”

“I want to go for a promotion, Henry.” She knew this was news to him, because she’d just recently decided to apply. “I’ve got to look squeaky clean. The last thing I need is Morelli stirring up trouble by implying I’m gay. Besides, there’s no one in my life so it’s a moot point.”

“That might be, but it’s who you are.” He reached across to take her hand, showing his support.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve been your partner for three years now, and I’d like to think I know you better than anyone else. I could see the signs, Mo.”

“Great. Now they all know.”

“Will you stop acting like an idiot?”

“I am not… all right I am. I’m just no good with relationships, Henry.”

“You need to get out there and brush up your social skills, my friend.”

“Social skills?” Morgan glanced at him.

“Like talking to people and not interrogating them. There’s a difference, you know.”

“And who do I practice on? I don’t know anyone outside of work.”

“Then go to a gay bar. I’m sure I have a contact or two who could recommend a good one at the other end of town somewhere.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly, appreciating the gesture.

“Of course, there’s still the counselor.”

“I’m not interested in her.”

Henry said nothing.

“I repeat. I am not interested in her.” Morgan didn’t look at Henry lying next to her. “No. She’s not an option.”

“Why not? She’s not married yet.”

“But she’s taken. It’s the same thing. Besides, she’s not interested in women.”

“What makes you say that?”

25

“Hello? She’s marrying a man. In my book that means she heterosexual.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, his skepticism obvious.

“Will you stop saying that?”

“Listen to yourself. Who are you trying to convince here?”

“Me, Henry. Me.”

“These eyes see something, whether you admit it or not.”

“You do? You must have X-ray vision or something.”

“If you don’t want to admit your attraction to the counselor, fine. But I still think the friendship idea is good. It’ll give you a chance to work around a woman without thinking of her that way.”

“That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard.”

“Why? Because you can’t do it?”

Morgan knew she was being baited. Henry was throwing down the gauntlet and daring her to pick it up. Once Henry had an idea in his head, he wouldn’t let it go until he got what he wanted. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“All right.” Henry stood and extended his hand to Morgan so he could haul her to her feet. “Meet you in ten outside, okay? Just enough time to grab something quick to eat.”

“Fine.” She dragged herself off to the showers, foregoing washing her hair until after work. It was moments like these that she wished for short hair, where washing was a matter of minutes instead of being a major military operation to wash, dry, and corral her wayward hair into some means of control. While she justified to herself all the practical reasons for keeping it long, deep in her heart was one more reason, less logical but by no means less compelling. She was an Irish lass to the core, and her mass of long red hair was at the heart of it.

She stood under the lukewarm water, briskly rubbing suds over her skin, trying vainly not to think of anything but getting clean. Why was Henry trying to push her into something she didn’t want to pursue? She grabbed the cold tap and twisted it around sharply until the cold water brought goose bumps to her skin. It had taken her a fraction over the allocated ten minutes to emerge from the building. Henry was talking to one of the other detectives in the division. “Okay, Charlie, catch you later.”

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, just organizing going to McGee’s after work. You in?”

They started walking back toward the precinct.

26

“Not tonight, thanks. Hair washing night, you know?” She dismissed his disapproving stare. “What?” She grabbed her braid.

“You think this stuff washes itself?”

“Of course it does. If it was that much trouble you wouldn’t keep it.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s about the only thing that I will take my time over.” She held the long braid in her hand. “You know this is who I am, Henry. It’s more than hair to me. It’s my last connection to my childhood, and my parents. That’s why I don’t want to cut it. I lose the braid, and I lose my past.”

“Your past is more than a length of hair.”

“I know that. I do, but my thoughts are running on emotion here, not logic. This is my last physical reminder of my roots, my home, my dad.” She sighed. “My dad was everything to me. He was my only family.”

“What about your brothers? I wanted to ask you about that a while back, but I assumed things weren’t so good, so I never brought it up.”

“You’re right, they weren’t and they aren’t.”

“You ever going to tell me what happened?” Henry slowed his walk.

“Let’s just say they took off when mom died and never came back. One day I’ll tell you the whole story.”

“One day?”

“One day when I can talk about it without getting pissed off.”

“Oh. What about McGee’s? Andy might be there.”

“Andy? Since when do you call her Andy?”

“Since she said I could last night. You missed out on a lot when you stomped out.”

“I did not stomp out.” This whole conversation about Andrea had been going on way too long for Morgan’s liking. Bad enough that every thought she had was about her, now every single word was about her as well. “Can we just drop this, please?”

“Okay.”

They stopped off at a deli and picked up sandwiches. Morgan added a coffee to her order.

“What did you buy that for? We have coffee back at the precinct.”

“It’s always nice to have real coffee from time to time,” she said huffily. “Not that brown-colored water that passes for it.” She was almost tempted to stop in the street and have a good long drink, 27

but time was running short. They’d be chewing double-time to finish before their lunch break was over.

“What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?” Henry asked.

“Not much, I think. Damn, it’s been quiet.”

“You notice that, too?”

“Yep, but I guess it’s boring paperwork unless Markham decides to spring something on us.” Morgan was hopeful for some time out of the precinct.

“Oh, please, don’t even think that out loud.”

Morgan made a conscientious effort to bring all her files up-todate that afternoon. Internally she kicked, she screamed, she moaned, and generally threw a tantrum at having to spend so much time doing something she absolutely abhorred, but at last she finished.

Sitting back and studying her handiwork, she once again considered her decision to apply for a promotion. She knew the farther she moved up the ladder, the more she would be behind a desk and mountains of paperwork. Was that what she really wanted? She loved the thrill of the chase and using her intellect to outthink her prey. Then, of course, there was the danger aspect as well. She would lose all that with a promotion.

She watched Henry work. He was the reason she put up with all the boring office work. Without him, if she were honest with herself, she would have gone insane long ago. The practical jokes, the easy banter between them, and most important, the endless supply of hot coffee, all helped to diffuse her frustration with the paperwork.

“Are you finished yet?”

Henry had snuck up on her without her even knowing it. “Huh? Getting there.”

“So you’re going to be pulling a late one again tonight?” he said in a teasing voice.

She knew she was infamous for her slow typing, but she couldn’t help it if office work came last in her priorities of police work. The monitor blinked at her as though to remind her she had more work to do. “Probably.”

“Good night.”

“I doubt it,” she said grumpily before turning her attention back to the keyboard.

After catching up on most of what she’d set out to do, she left the precinct cranky and hungry, and detoured to the local Chinese restaurant for takeout. It was unhealthy to be eating so much fast

28

food, but she was no cook. She thought back to those early days when her mom tried to pass down the family recipes to her daughter. But Morgan preferred to be outside with her brothers, playing stickball or hide and seek.

“Honey?” The mild accent of her mother intruded into her thoughts. “Morgan? Sweetheart? Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, Mama,” she had replied automatically, but both of them knew her heart wasn’t really in it.

“Go on, little one. No point in teaching you today. Go and enjoy the sunshine.” Her mother apparently realized that Morgan was simply not interested and gave up trying to teach her the finer points of cooking.

Morgan’s thoughts returned to the present, and she continued to eat the takeout. While she didn’t regret not learning to cook, every now and then she did want to experience the joy of boiling something other than hot water.

She sat back, beer in hand, surveying the half-empty Chinese takeout containers on the table for a moment before she stood and placed them in the refrigerator. She wondered how long it would take before they mutated into alien life forms. They could have the fridge as their domain if they wanted it, but there would be a hell of a fight for the beer.

Morgan headed to the bedroom, stripped off her work clothes, and threw them into the wash pile, steeling herself for washing her hair. She faced herself in the mirror and critically eyed her naked form for the first time in quite a while. She just couldn’t see what the attraction would be for someone else. The first fault obvious to her was the freckles liberally splattered over her pale skin. Trying to look past that flaw, she took in her shape, pleased to realize that while not “buff,” as some would call it, she wasn’t too skinny or fat, either. She turned to see that her ass was still firm, still held its shape well, and didn’t look like a squishy grape. Chuckling, she faced the front again. Although not full, her breasts sat high on her chest with very little sag and still had some substance to them. Her hands rose to cup herself, feeling the weight in her palms. She closed her eyes and imagined that it was someone else’s hands touching her.

Morgan had put her libido in motion, and no way could she stop herself from seeking relief. She opened her eyes and watched as her fingers glided over her nipples, teasing, tormenting. She imagined herself a voyeur in this particular scenario and watched 29

the woman in the mirror succumb to the fingers exploring her naked torso.

Morgan couldn’t remember the last time she had made love with somebody, and her mind refused to present any images to remind her of what she didn’t have. With nothing to draw on, she sought out her fantasy lover to serve her needs. Those arms shortened, and the fingers became more delicate, but the strength in them as they roamed over her stirred her blood, and she shamelessly watched in the mirror as her fingers found her and claimed her, driving her higher and higher until she could do little but yield to her passion.

Her cries echoed around the empty room. As she trudged into the bathroom, she realized sadly that she wasn’t satisfied. She would never truly be satisfied until she found someone to love.

* * *

Andrea was pleased with her first day at her new job. While she didn’t get to practice any real law, the time was well spent watching other ADAs in action, picking up the slight nuances in court protocol that changed from one state to the other. She might have passed the New York bar exam, but she still had a way to go before she felt comfortable in her new surroundings. But she was a damned good lawyer, and she had confidence in her own abilities to get her through her settling-in period.

At night in her apartment, though, she felt lonely and silently wished for dinners around the table with family and friends. She was quite often at odds with her parents, especially her mother, but she missed the easy comfort and company.

She had begged off going to the bar with the detectives. Even though Henry would be there, she claimed she had an early start in court tomorrow. She had just finished a shower when her cell rang.

“Hello?” The towel tangled itself around her body as she tried to make herself comfortable on the bed. “Dang it. Hang on.” She pulled back the blankets, stripped off the towel, and lay on the bed naked, feeling the cool sheet brush against her freshly scoured skin.

“Sorry. Hello?”

“Andrea? Sugar?”

“Joel. How are you, honey?”

“I’m fine. Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just had a shower and got tangled up in the towel.”

30

There was silence on the other end. “And what are you wearing now?”

Mischievously, she answered, “Why, nothing at all, darlin’.”

The exaggerated moan on the other end of the phone sent her into a fit of giggles. “Well, you asked.”

“Don’t do this to me. It’s hard enough as it is being separated from you.”

“Hard, is it?” She heard the audible swallow on the line. “How hard?” What had gotten into her tonight?

“You okay?” Joel’s voice croaked, tension lacing his words.

“I’m just peachy. I had a good day is all.” There was heavy breathing on the other end of the phone, and if she didn’t know it was her fiance, she would have thought she had gotten a dirty phone call. “You okay, honey?”

“No, I’m not, thanks very much to you.”

“Go and grab a cold shower, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I have an early start here.” Another moan. “You know, you do dirty phone calls really well, Joel.” She thought she could hear a growl, but she wasn’t sure. In her best bedroom voice, she whispered,

“Good night, lover. Sleep well,” knowing damned well she had ensured that he wouldn’t.

What had she done? This mindless little game served no purpose but to frustrate the hell out of both of them. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind was the answer, but it lingered just out of conscious reach. Did she want to know? She rolled over to hang up the phone and enjoyed the feel of the crisp linen brushing against her sensitized skin. As she undulated gently, the material brushed her nipples, slowly teasing them erect and fanning the embers that had started with the phone conversation. Andrea knew she should get some sleep, but what the hell, it felt so damn good.

Shifting onto her back, she allowed images of Joel to float in her mind’s eye. Her busy fingers wasted no time in teasing, but slid straight to her heat. Seeking only the temporary gratification that such an act would provide, she was barely aware that the dark eyes of her fiance had slowly changed to a sea green or that the low timbre of his voice had lightened. She cried out her release to an empty room. The afterglow meant little because there was no one to share it with. Joel would be there soon. She took comfort in that thought as her body relaxed and she slipped quietly into slumber.

Chapter 3

“You look terrible.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Morgan collapsed into her chair, tired and cranky after a disturbed night’s sleep.

“Not sleeping well?” Henry asked jovially. Morgan didn’t appreciate her partner’s enjoyment of her discomfort. “It’s not like we’re on a big case, you know. I just feel unsettled.”

“You’ve got to lighten up, or you’re going to make yourself crazy.”

“Crazy? It was one night of broken sleep.”

“Uh-huh. And what was so important that you lost sleep over it?”

“I suppose I could say ‘mind your own business,’ but the truth is, I don’t know.”

“It wouldn’t have something to do with a certain ADA?”

She slumped in her chair and cradled her head in her hands. She looked up at Henry. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

“Maybe something, or someone, is bugging you and you don’t know it.”

She looked at him.

“Seriously.”

“Well, whatever it is will have to wait. I’m not making much sense this morning,” Morgan mumbled.

“Sense was never your strong suit.”

“Geez, thanks a lot. Is this ‘kick Morgan while she’s down’

day?”

“If the shoe fits—”

Markham stuck his head through the door and aimed his finger at them. “My office. Now.”

Morgan looked at Henry. “Now? All right!”

“Let’s get in there before he gives a repeat performance.”

31

32

As they entered the office, Markham spoke. “Don’t bother making yourself comfortable. There’s been a murder, and I need you two over there ASAP. Make that five minutes ago.” He handed the details to Morgan.

“Christ. Is this who I think it is?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding, Sergeant? The press is going to be all over this one, so quick and quiet. You got me? Dismissed.”

“We’re on it.” Morgan ushered Henry out of Markham’s office. She handed him the 911 report and glanced at him to watch his reaction to their assignment. A low whistle escaped his lips as he read the name and address.

“You get the motor running,” Morgan said, “while I grab a couple of things.”

“I’m on it.” Henry pushed through the back doors leading to the police garage to sign out a car for their use. Morgan made a dash to gather her notebook, cell phone, and blazer before heading out the front door to wait for him. As she stood on the sidewalk, she wondered whether the use of a car would save any more time than just running the couple of blocks to the crime scene. Still, it was a warm day and it would look unprofessional to jog up to the uniforms on the scene, panting. Nope, detectives pulled up in speeding vehicles, sirens wailing and lights flashing like they meant business, scaring dogs, cats, and little old ladies alike as they hurried about their important investigation. One day, she’d like to run up to a crime scene like a veritable Batman and Robin for pure shock value. Maybe she could get Henry to say “Holy Crapola, Batman!” every time they discovered a clue. She chuckled as she waited for the car to arrive. With a squeal of tires, a nondescript Crown Vic skidded to a halt in front of her. She stood there for a moment before the door flew open. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on,” Morgan muttered as she climbed into the passenger seat. She had barely closed the door when Henry pulled out into traffic without so much as a signal. He flipped a couple of switches on the dash to activate the sirens and lights.

Morgan studied him as he negotiated traffic like a Brickyard 400 driver for all of the twelve seconds it took to get there. She decided he could always fall back on that career if the police force didn’t pan out for him.

33

She had barely taken two breaths when the car screeched to a halt in front of an expensive piece of neighborhood. “Your foot get stuck on the brake?”

“Ha, ha, very funny. We’re here.”

“Don’t want to do a donut in the middle of the street or anything, do you?”

“Are you saying something’s wrong with my driving?”

“Besides your need to smear us all over the pavement?”

“Picky, picky,” Henry said.

“Hey, I’m not the one driving like Mario Andretti.” Morgan looked at the chaotic scene in front of her. “Christ.”

“You can say that again.”

“Christ.”

Henry flashed her a wry smile She smiled back, thinking how well they worked together. Besides, he kept her sane, kept her focused, and kept her out of trouble.

Morgan reached into the glove compartment for a couple pairs of latex gloves. “Let’s get this show on the road.” She opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk to face a handful of reporters asking questions. “Come on, guys. We just got here. You know the drill.” She shoved through the waiting throng, touching her badge on her belt as she approached the uniform who blocked the way to the building. “Detectives O’Callaghan and Chang, Fifth Precinct.”

“Hey, O’Callaghan. You took your own sweet time.” A rotund detective stood on the stoop and signaled to the uniform to let them through. “Come on, I’ll fill you in.”

As she climbed the stairs to the front door, Morgan inspected the street, looking one way then the other. Brownstones with private entrances lined the street. These were houses, not apartments, and spoke of money. A lot of money.

“Looking for something?” Henry asked.

“Nope. Just checking out the local terrain. Let’s hear what Detective Graham has to say.” Inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change from sunlight to shade.

“Arthur Vaughan is a Wall Street moneymaker,” Graham reported. “A delivery boy was delivering the groceries this morning. He found Vaughan on the kitchen floor with a gun in his hand, and his maid lying next to him, shot dead. You’ll find the family in the parlor ready for their statements.”

“Anything else?”

34

“The stick insect with them is the family lawyer.” Graham consulted his notes. “Marks. According to the wife, she notified him just after calling 911. He was already inside when we arrived.”

“A stick insect?” Morgan laughed at the bizarre description.

“Just you wait and see.”

“Still, the timing’s all wrong. No way he could have beaten you here if you were called first. That’s lie number one. What about the CSU?”

“The crime lab’s in the kitchen now. Fingerprints and gunshot residue still need to be taken.”

“What were you doing while I wasn’t here? Playing Parcheesi?” Morgan smiled.

“Nah, waiting around for you to finally say ‘yes’ to poker night.”

“Unlike you bozos, I want to keep my money.”

“Aw, c’mon, O’Callaghan. We all want to see if you have your dad’s luck at the game.”

“And that’s why I don’t play, Graham.” She returned to the reason they were there. “The case looks straightforward, then.”

“Looks like it. Just got the word from upstairs to hand it over to you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Morgan said absently, her thoughts already focusing on the case at hand.

“Yo, O’Callaghan.” The middle-aged crime scene unit officer greeted her cheerfully.

“Hey, Hodges. What’s going on?” She took a moment to wave goodbye to Graham as he waddled down the staircase. “Call me Friday, okay?”

“Sure. Good luck.” Graham folded his substantial body into the waiting car and left the scene.

“What’s going on?” Hodges said. “One of the city’s richest men was found on the kitchen floor next to the body of the dead maid with the murder weapon in his hand. And you want to know what’s going on?” He stared at her. “Where have you been? Australia? This has got to be the hottest case in the last two years.”

“Well, duh, Hodges. I just got here. Cut me some slack.”

Hodges laughed in silence, his shoulders bouncing up and down. He continued with his report. “The police photographer is here and is taking pictures. Forensics is just beginning.”

“Where’s Vaughan?”

Hodges pointed to the sitting room.

“Thanks.”

35

Morgan stood at the entrance to the room, Henry by her side. A silver-haired man, sitting slumped in an overstuffed chair, his eyes vacant, drew her attention. So this was Arthur Vaughan. Financier. Philanthropist. Old Money. She had read an occasional piece written on him in the papers, not that she had paid a lot of attention at the time. Shock couldn’t begin to describe the man’s stunned expression. One of the paramedics who attended the 911 call was kneeling beside him, monitoring his vitals. Behind him stood a woman Morgan assumed was his wife, her hand resting on his shoulder. A thin, wiry middle-aged man sat in the chair opposite Vaughan. That had to be Marks.

“I’m Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan, and this is Detective Chang. We’re from Homicide.”

“Sergeant… O’Callaghan, was it?” Vaughan’s wife said. Much younger than her husband, maybe in her mid-thirties, she was dressed in a robe nice enough to wear out on the town and had a rock on her finger that would make Ivana Trump look twice. “Can you give us a moment or two before questioning him?”

“As you wish, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me, while we wait I’d like to examine the scene.” Morgan moved away from the doorway, and Henry followed closely.

She stopped in the doorway that led to the kitchen and whispered to him, “Check out what’s going on, will you? And get a list of who we need to interview.”

“Sure, boss.”

She raised her eyebrow at him then turned her attention to the body on the floor. The victim was lying on her side like she was asleep. A short, balding man was hunched over the body. “Hey, Wyman. Got anything for me?”

The ME looked up at her and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Not much yet. We only just got here. We have the deceased with a gunshot wound and a possible murder weapon.”

“The boys are dusting for prints and gathering blood spatter,”

Hodges added.

“Cause of death?”

Wyman gently tipped over the woman until she was lying on her back. “Probably the single gunshot wound to the chest.” He cursorily looked over the body. “There doesn’t seem to be any other evidence of trauma. But you know better than to take that as gospel. You’ll just have to wait for my autopsy report like everyone else.”

36

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Morgan said with a grimace. “I would appreciate a copy of your report as quickly as possible.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”

Two crime lab officers moved about collecting evidence. They took scrapings of anything that looked like it was part of the investigation. Morgan could see where they had been by the fingerprint dust liberally scattered over walls, floors, table, chairs, sink, utensils, and appliances. Nothing was left untouched.

“Call me right away, huh?”

“Sure,” Wyman said. “You think I’m going to forget you?” He looked at her over his glasses.

“Owe you one.”

“That makes three.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Morgan looked around for a gun. “Anyone bag the murder weapon?” One of the investigators held up a bag with the evidence. “Why do I bother even asking?”

The techs laughed as if to say, “Why do you?”

“Hey, Wyman,” Morgan said.

He looked up from his work.

“Can you get your boy here to take fingerprints and gunshot residue on our suspects in the living room?”

“Of course.” Wyman caught the attention of his assistant and nodded in the direction of the lounge room. The young officer graced Morgan with a smile as he passed her, carefully stepping around the assorted spots of forensic dust and marked cards. Morgan waited a few minutes for Wyman’s assistant to finish fingerprinting. She looked up when Henry returned. “Let’s see what Vaughan has to say for himself. Or maybe Mrs. Vaughan will fill us in, since she seems to have taken it upon herself to do the talking for him.” This might be only a preliminary interrogation, but she needed some sort of report to give to the captain. She entered the front room and approached the man slumped in the chair. “Mr. Vaughan? Do you remember me? Sergeant O’Callaghan?”

Dull blue eyes tracked up to her, but little life showed in them. Morgan studied Vaughan, wondering what would make him do such a thing. Would he? Could he? Her gut instinct was saying no, but the circumstantial evidence was saying otherwise. 37

The other man, tall and spindly, affected an air of officiousness in his crisp three-piece suit and slicked-back hair. He stood next to Mrs. Vaughan, whispering to her.

“Ah, Detective—” he said.

“Sergeant O’Callaghan.”

“Yes, of course. Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan. I’m Clifford Marks, Mr. Vaughan’s attorney. I’m representing him at this most unfortunate time.”

Morgan jotted the name down in her notepad. Marks. One of the partners at Schneider, Marks, and Edgerton. She had heard of these heavy-hitters by reputation only, and she knew her case would be scrutinized by some very smart lawyers. She didn’t envy the DA’s job of prosecuting the case.

She spoke to the elderly gentleman sitting in the stuffed chair.

“Mr. Vaughan? Are you up to answering some questions?” He looked up in response to his name but said nothing. Morgan turned her gaze to Marks who pursed his lips in what might have been aggravation.

“Sorry?” Vaughan spoke for the first time.

“Sergeant, my client is clearly not able to competently answer your questions at this time.”

Morgan opened her mouth to respond, but Vaughan interrupted. “Sergeant, wasn’t it?” A glimmer of recognition appeared on Vaughan’s face as their eyes met momentarily.

“Yes. O’Callaghan.”

“Arthur, I’m advising you not to say another word,” Marks said in a low voice.

With a flick of his hand, Vaughan dismissed his attorney’s caution. “Yes, yes, continue.”

Morgan heard a sputter escape Marks’s lips. She ignored him and instead focused on Vaughan. “Mr. Vaughan, can you tell me, in your own words, what happened?”

“My husband went into the kitchen, but the maid was already dead. Distraught, he just picked up the gun without thinking. He couldn’t possibly have killed her.”

“Mrs. Vaughan, I was asking your husband to tell me in his own words.” Morgan paused for a moment. “How do you know this, ma’am? Did you go with him? Or maybe you were already present in the room when he entered?”

“Certainly not. He told me when you left the room, Sergeant.”

38

“And yet your husband here is clearly stricken from the incident, Mrs. Vaughan. How could he possibly have been cognizant enough to say anything?”

“That’s enough, Connie,” Marks interrupted. “Is Mrs. Vaughan a suspect here, Sergeant?”

“Mr. Marks, everyone is a suspect until eliminated from the investigation.”

Mrs. Vaughan sighed, her platinum blonde hair shifting with her motion.

Morgan signaled the paramedic on the floor, and they moved away from the suspects. It took only a moment or two to make a decision.

Morgan returned to address the family. “Mr. Vaughan, you’ll be taken to Sacred Heart Hospital for further observation. Your blood pressure’s very high, sir.” But she could see that it was more than blood pressure. His face had taken on a grayish tinge. He didn’t look good at all.

“Mr. Marks, your client will be accompanied by a uniformed officer. After all, he is a prime suspect in a murder investigation.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Sergeant O’Callaghan. May we continue this interview at a later stage?” Marks said.

“I’ll wait on the paramedics first. After that, we can make an arrangement for his statement. In the meantime, these two officers will stay with you until the paramedics have finished. Excuse me, please.” Morgan paused at the doorway and looked the attorney straight in the eye. “Oh, and Mr. Marks? We will require the pajamas, the robe, and the slippers he’s currently wearing.”

Marks acknowledged her request with a slight nod.

“Mrs. Vaughan, do you have any objection to us looking around?”

Constance glanced at her lawyer who gave her a slight nod.

“No,” she said.

“Thank you.”

Morgan and Henry moved out into hall.

“What do you think?” Henry said. “The old guy did it?”

“Nah, the wife did it.”

“Really?”

“Heh—gotcha.”

“Good. Very good. You know, I like this other side of you.”

“What are you talking about, Henry?”

“You’re normally so…”

“Single-minded? Focused? A bitch?”

39

“Stuffy. Good to see you’re finally coming around to my way of thinking.”

“Hey.” Morgan was finally coming out of her shell. She felt it. And she could tell that Henry was trying very hard not to laugh. They were involved in a murder investigation, after all. “C’mon, let’s check things out upstairs before they kick us out and we have to get a warrant.”

Morgan returned to the front room just as Vaughan was about to be taken away by the paramedics. She stood beside the gurney and looked down at him. “Mr. Vaughan, the ambulance will take you to the hospital. We still need a statement, so we’ll stop by this afternoon, say around two?” She looked up at the lawyer for confirmation and received a small nod. “In the meantime, Mrs. Vaughan, we need to get a statement from you.”

At that precise moment, a younger woman, barely twenty years of age from the looks of her, rushed into the room. “Mother. Daddy. What’s happened?”

Morgan watched Mrs. Vaughan’s reaction to the arrival of the young woman. Constance Vaughan couldn’t possibly be this woman’s mother, unless she had her when she was about fourteen. Somehow Mrs. Vaughan didn’t seem the sort of girl that would allow herself to get knocked up at that age. Eighteen maybe, but not fourteen. No, Mrs. Vaughan was the proverbial wicked stepmother in this young woman’s eyes, and by the looks of the taut lines around Mrs. Vaughan’s mouth, the feeling was mutual.

“Excuse me, and you are?” Morgan said.

“Chelsea Vaughan. And who are you? What’s going on?”

“These detectives are investigating Rose’s murder.” Mrs. Vaughan’s voice sounded tight and clipped, as though she could barely control her anger.

“Rose? Murdered?”

Morgan wondered if Chelsea was playing out a scene. Calling Mrs. Vaughan “mother”? Obviously they disliked each other. Morgan would bet Chelsea called her stepmother a variety of words, none of which would be “mother.”

“Now, Mrs. Vaughan, can you tell me—” Morgan tried to continue the questioning in spite of the daughter’s unsettling arrival.

“Sergeant, please,” Mrs. Vaughan said, “my husband needs to get to the hospital. Can we give our statements later this morning once I’m sure that Arthur is resting comfortably?”

“One moment.” Morgan whispered over her shoulder to Henry,

“Get some uniforms here for escort duty.”

40

“All right. Ms. Vaughan, you can come with your mother to the station when she gives her statement. We need a statement from you, as well, as to your whereabouts this morning. In the meantime, I’ve arranged for a detective to accompany you.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help to you, Sergeant, but I’ll do what I can,” Chelsea answered sweetly.

“Until later in the morning, then.” Morgan didn’t like the arrangements, but it was the hand she was dealt. She and Henry moved outside to the stoop, leaving the group to get organized for the trip to the hospital. As expected, a pack of media thronged the sidewalk. Once Morgan and Henry had been sighted, the noise rose as journalists and cameramen jostled for position to get a story.

“Well, that must have been painful,” Henry said as they stood on the top step, watching the mass of bodies on the sidewalk looking up at them expectantly for a statement.

“What are you talking about?”

“Having your head stuck up your own ass. Got to be the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever seen.”

“And how would you know?”

“Come on. How much more disgustingly polite could you be? Any more kissing up, and you’d be in bed together. Care to explain?”

Morgan glanced at him. “That slimy high priced suit-job of theirs was just waiting for one wrong move from me. I was going to make damned sure that he had no call to complain up the ladder. Not for now, anyway. Let’s play it by the book and see who screws up first. It should be interesting.”

Chapter 4

“This is a record of interview of statement taken from Mrs. Constance Vaughan by Detective Sergeant Morgan O’Callaghan, badge number 44015.” Morgan glanced over Chelsea’s head at Henry leaning casually against the wall and drew support from his calm demeanor.

“Mrs. Vaughan, do you understand that this is a preliminary statement we are taking today? We might, at a later time, call you in again to clarify some points once all the evidence has been compiled.”

“Let’s get this over with. I have a sick husband in the hospital.”

Morgan could feel a nasty headache beginning. “Yes, you do, ma’am. Just tell me what happened this morning concerning the murder of Rose McManus.”

“Let’s see. We were sleeping in this morning. Arthur and I had a charity luncheon to attend so we arranged with the staff to have brunch instead of breakfast. Mrs. O’Malley was out doing the grocery shopping, as she always does, so only Rose was in the house. Arthur got up around seven, I think it was. He went to the bathroom, then came back to bed with a glass of water. About an hour later there was a loud noise downstairs. I woke Arthur and he grabbed the gun out of the side table and went downstairs to check on things. A little time passed. I’m not sure, maybe a minute or two, and there was the sound of a gunshot. I was not going downstairs, but I called my attorney immediately.”

“Why didn’t you call the police, Mrs. Vaughan?”

“I did.”

“But not before you phoned your lawyer.”

“I was upset. I wanted someone I trusted here before the police arrived.”

“And you trusted your lawyer that much?”

“Of course I did—I do. Just what are you accusing me of, Sergeant?”

41

42

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Mrs. Vaughan, but we know that three calls were made from the house this morning, two of which were to 911. The first 911 call came from the delivery boy and the second from you, Mrs. Vaughan, nearly two minutes later.”

“And your point?” Marks interceded.

“My point, Mr. Marks, is that the very first call made was to you.”

“Am I a suspect in this case?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Counselor, everyone is a suspect.”

“Are you asking me to recuse myself?”

“I would seriously think about it, Mr. Marks.”

“But, but Clifford—”

“Don’t worry, Constance. She’s got nothing.” He stared at Morgan, as if daring her to say more.

“This is only the beginning, Mrs. Vaughan,” Morgan said smoothly. “This preliminary interview is to collect your statement. You will be reinterviewed at a later date once the forensic results are known.”

Morgan gathered the files off the table and left the room with Henry to refill their coffees while Constance Vaughan spoke privately with her lawyer. They arrived back at the interrogation room just as Chelsea Vaughan entered. Morgan was eager to hear what the daughter had to say.

“Ms. Vaughan, where were you this morning around seven?”

Morgan sat in the chair opposite Chelsea and opened the case file.

“I was at a party in the Village all night.”

“And you were still there at seven this morning?”

“I didn’t keep track of time. I suppose so.”

“Can you substantiate any of this?”

“Yes, there were at least twenty other people at the party and they all saw me.”

“We’ll need a list of those names. What made you decide to visit your parents this morning?”

“I got a call that there had been trouble.”

“From whom?”

“Connie. She told me the police had been called.”

“Not ‘Rose had been shot’ but ‘the police had been called.’

That’s a rather unusual way of putting it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe she didn’t want to upset me until I got there. I can’t answer for my stepmother.”

Morgan noted that Chelsea referred to Constance as her stepmother. “Your mother—” she said, testing her. 43

“Stepmother.” A flash of anger crossed Chelsea’s features.

“Excuse me. Your stepmother reported that she had made only two calls this morning, one to her lawyer and one to 911. She made no mention of a third call to you.”

“Maybe she forgot. Maybe she called me on her cell.”

Morgan made a mental note to check Mrs. Vaughan’s cell phone records once Velasquez accessed them. Her gut instinct was telling her that Chelsea was lying through her teeth.

“Where were you when you received this call?”

“At my apartment. I must have left the party before that.”

“What did you think about the call?” Morgan was interested to see what Chelsea could come up with.

“I don’t know. I figured it must have been serious, otherwise she wouldn’t have called me.”

“Your mother, sorry, stepmother, doesn’t normally call you early in the morning?”

“She’s not an early riser,” Chelsea said almost distastefully.

“You don’t talk to your stepmother much?”

“Not much, no. But that’s only because we have our own separate lives.”

“And what was your reaction to the news?”

“I thought it was concerning my father at first. It wasn’t until I arrived home that I found out it was the hired help.”

Hired help? Morgan was curious about the turn of phrase. Chelsea didn’t even show Rose respect by calling her by name. There were only two workers in the Vaughan household—Mrs. O’Malley and Rose McManus—so there was no excuse for not knowing their names.

“Had you met Rose McManus?”

“Once or twice. I don’t usually mix with the downstairs staff.”

Why was Chelsea trying to distance herself from knowing Rose? It was one of those questions that sat high on Morgan’s list of inconsistencies. “Well, Ms. Vaughan, that will be all for now. We’ll be in touch to arrange a further interview once we have more information. And we’ll need that list of friends at the party.”

Morgan closed the file in front of her and rose. She watched the young woman and her lawyer leave to join the rest of the family waiting in the corridor.

Secrets, Morgan thought as she moved to the door and observed them walking down the corridor toward the front door. This family has lots and lots of secrets.

44

* * *

Andrea watched the group of people emerge from the interrogation room, one of whom caught her attention. Who was that? Leslie? Laura? “Lauren,” she murmured. She repeated the name, this time raising her voice to cross the expanse of the corridor. “Lauren? Lauren!” The group continued to move away from her toward the exit without any response to her call.

“Sergeant,” she called to Morgan who walked the distance to her in a handful of strides.

“Hi,” Morgan said in a soft, deep voice. “Sorry I didn’t make it to court this morning. A major case just opened up, and I haven’t even had time to grab a cup of coffee.”

“Of course. Who was that you were talking to?”

“That was Mrs. Constance Vaughan and her stepdaughter, Chelsea. I was just getting their statements on this morning’s homicide. Why?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“You said someone’s name—Lauren? Did you know one of them?”

“I thought I did. I must have been mistaken.”

“You’re sure?” Morgan stared intently at her.

“No, not entirely. I was supposed to defend this woman on a drug possession charge a couple of years ago back home, but she skipped town. Now that I think about it, her hair was darker—a lot darker. And she sure didn’t dress like any rich kid I know. My mistake.”

As Morgan was about to walk away, she hesitated. Henry pointed from a distance, his finger jabbing the air viciously. Andrea watched the exchange, puzzled. His mouth was running at a mile a minute, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying. She looked back at Morgan, who cleared her throat then looked at the floor.

“Um, are you doing anything for lunch?”

Andrea stared at her.

“You’ve got to eat, right? Would you mind some company?”

Andrea smiled. “So, I’m your best friend now?”

“I was just trying to make up for that first night at the bar, that’s all.”

“Are we feeling a tiny bit guilty about that, Sergeant?” Andrea drawled.

“Maybe, but if you’re busy—”

45

“Hey.” Andrea grabbed Morgan’s arm. “I didn’t say no, did I? Can you go to lunch now?”

“Errr, sure. My next appointment isn’t until two.”

While Andrea disappeared into her office, Morgan flipped open her cell phone, scanning through her address book to find the number she was looking for. She hit the dial button and waited for the phone to be answered.

“Hodges,” he answered tersely.

“Hey. It’s O’Callaghan.”

“Even I’m not that quick.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Are you still at the crime scene?”

“Yeah, we’re just finishing up.”

“If there’s a glass of water next to Vaughan’s bed, can you take a sample then call me later with the results?” Morgan asked.

“Sure. If you think it’s important.”

“I think it could be. I’m checking to see if it’s spiked. Thanks, buddy.” Just as she hung up, Andrea emerged from her office, looking very stylish in her tailored suit, her glasses missing from the ensemble.

“Ready?” Andrea asked.

Morgan knew she should have said no, but yes jumped right past her lips. They walked side by side down the steps onto the street, the heat of the day beading Morgan’s upper lip with sweat. She steered Andrea down the street, away from the bar.

“We’re not going to McGee’s?”

“Nope, there’s another bar this way called Monkeyshines.”

Andrea’s eyebrows rose in a question.

“Yeah, the name. I know it’s kind of goofy, but the food’s great.”

“And why aren’t we going to McGee’s?”

“I just wanted you to try a new eating place around the corner.”

“A new eating place, huh?”

“Why do you have to question everything I say?” Morgan glanced at her.

“Because I’m finding with you that everything you say has a double meaning.”

How could she fight that? Andrea was right—at least about this. “I… er… McGee’s is too public.” Morgan kept her gaze on the sidewalk, her pace steady and firm.

“And why is that a problem?”

“Do you really want to run into Morelli?”

“Ah, you have a point. Fine, then Monkeyshines it is.”

46

Morgan barely heard Andrea’s answer over the noise of blaring horns, swearing cab drivers, and squealing tires that was the lifeblood of New York City.

“Did Henry talk you into this?” Andrea asked casually.

“No.” Morgan tried to sound indignant. “Why would he do that? Can’t I have an idea of my own?”

“You two seemed to be carrying on quite a conversation back in the office.”

“How could we? We were at opposite ends of the room.”

“Exactly, and the eye contact and miming were quite animated.”

“Oh, you caught that,” Morgan said sheepishly.

“Yes, I did. I didn’t catch it all, but it was quite illuminating.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, we’re out and about to have lunch. Let’s go on from here,” Andrea said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m hungry?”

“No. You knew this lunch was a setup. Why do you want to continue this charade?” Morgan asked.

“Sooner or later, Sergeant, we’re going to have to work together, whether you like it or not. I would prefer it that you were on my side when we do.”

“You have a point.” Morgan had a feeling that they would be working together fairly soon. “So what do we do? Call it a day?”

“No.” Andrea’s voice was loud and clear. “Let’s go to Monkeyshines.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. And you can buy me a tall, cool drink. You owe me one.”

“Since when?” Morgan looked at her.

“Oh, since the moment I walked in through the door. A whole lot of tall, cold apologies.” Andrea smiled at her and motioned her up the street.

Chapter 5

Morgan could see that her choice of venue had gotten Andrea’s approval. It was warm, friendly, and intimate, or at least she thought so. And most of all, it was free of the New York City Police fraternity. They found a small booth in the back and perused the menu while waiting patiently for their drinks to arrive.

“So tell me, why all this sudden interest in me?” Andrea asked bluntly.

“Well, as my learned partner back there pointed out, someone’s got to be your friend, and he felt that you should have one to talk to about girl stuff.” Morgan realized how nuts that sounded. She leaned on the table and whispered conspiratorially, “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to get a friend for me rather than a friend for you.”

Andrea smiled a little at the comment. “I suppose he’s only thinking of your welfare. You’re quite the lone wolf, Morgan O’Callaghan. Why is that? Maybe this confiding in a girlfriend works both ways… Mo.” Andrea tried out the nickname on her tongue. “Mo? Hmm. No, I like Morgan better.” She said the name slowly.

At first taken aback at Andrea’s use of “Mo,” Morgan felt a flush of heat at how Andrea drew her name out. The waitress delivered their drinks, took their meal orders, and left them in peace.

“I have one question for you,” Morgan said.

“Only one? I mustn’t be that interesting, then.” Andrea’s eyebrow rose.

Morgan ignored the jibe. “Why are you here? If you’re getting married soon, why go through all this to leave in a few months?”

“Who said I was leaving?”

“You’re not?”

“Unless something drastic happens in the meantime, I wasn’t thinking about it. Is that why you were so hostile toward me that 47

48

first day?” Andrea looked Morgan in the eye. “That I wasn’t in the job for the long haul?”

“Not at first, no. On your second day here, Henry told me you were getting married.”

“Then why? What can I do to change your opinion of me?”

“Why is it so important that you have my approval?”

“I’m not seeking, or wanting, your approval, Morgan. But I do object to people summarily dismissing me without due cause.”

“When you walked in that first day, I thought you were a snob. Then you opened your mouth.” Morgan didn’t look away as she said the words, realizing that she could end up hurting Andrea again. “Well, you wanted to know.”

“Yes. I did.” Andrea shrugged. “And so it goes.”

Andrea had moved up a notch in Morgan’s estimation. She had taken the criticism in stride.

“And here I thought I dressed to look professional. My mistake.” But Andrea smiled. “Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. I’ll just have to work extra hard to change yours.”

They ate their lunch in silence. Over coffee, Morgan’s cell phone chirped. “O’Callaghan.”

“Sergeant, it’s Hodges.”

“Hey, Hodges. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“As you thought, the glass was tampered with. We haven’t been able to identify the contaminant yet. We’ve established the owners of most of the prints in the kitchen, except for two unknowns. Vaughan’s fingerprints are all over the gun, and ballistics will get back to me later this afternoon with their findings.”

“Good, thanks. Can you send me a copy of the report once it’s up?”

“No problem.”

“You’re the man, Hodges.”

“I always am, O’Callaghan.”

Andrea looked at her inquiringly as Morgan finished the call.

“The Vaughan case,” Morgan said.

“So what’s happening with the case?”

“I’m sure you’ll be brought in soon. After all, you’re the ADA.” Morgan smiled as Andrea straightened in her seat. “You like the sound of that, huh?”

“Yes, I guess I do. I always thought I would end up in my own practice, but this is great.”

49

“Give it a couple of years, and you’ll probably change your mind.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of years of this might not be so bad.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “You don’t know what pressure is until you’ve worked in the New York City DA’s Office. I’ve seen them come, and I’ve seen them go—in rapid succession. Two years seems to be the limit.”

“Don’t say that. This is my second day on the job, and you’re telling me I have a shelf life?”

“Just giving you a friendly warning.”

“Just like the friendly warning I received about you?”

“Yep. Enter at your own risk.” Morgan smiled gleefully at her lunch companion, amused at finally putting the counselor in her place.

“So—” Andrea fiddled with her coffee cup. “Can’t tell me anything yet?”

“You know better than to ask.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just eager to get started on something juicy.”

“Three days and she wants it all,” Morgan muttered to no one in particular.

“Well, all play and no work—”

“Makes Andrea unemployed?”

“I’m the ADA here, Sergeant. If I get appointed to this case, I expect some respect.” Andrea’s voice hardened and her Southern accent all but disappeared. The new legal shark the District Attorney’s Office had hired made a sudden appearance.

“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan said with exaggerated gravity. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“I should hope so.” Andrea stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”

“No, you were right. I’ve got to start treating you like an ADA, and I haven’t been. It was rude of me not to show you the proper respect. After all, I expect nothing less from you.”

“You do, huh? I must remember that.”

Morgan looked at her watch. “Sorry to cut this short, Counselor, but I’ve got an appointment with Vaughan at the hospital at two. I’ll get back to you later with the details.”

Andrea looked at her own watch and sighed. “You’re right. I can’t afford to be caught sneaking back late my first week on the job. Should we do this again tomorrow? Strictly business, of course.”

50

“Of course. I’d like that but I’m busy tomorrow. Henry and I usually go to the gym so I can beat the hell out of him.”

Andrea looked at her with bemusement, which made Morgan laugh. “No, really, he usually ends up winning, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.”

They rose from their completed meal and left a few dollars behind for the bill.

“There’s a gym nearby?” Andrea said.

They emerged from the bar to be hit by a hot summer breeze.

“About a block away. Why? You interested in going?”

“Well, I haven’t been for quite a while.” Andrea patted her stomach. “And if I keep eating like that, I’m going to blow up like a balloon.”

Morgan looked at the lithe figure next to her and seriously doubted that Andrea would ever get out of shape. But if she wanted to go work out, who was she to complain?

“The gym mainly caters to men, but there’s a smaller section that the women use.”

“And what do you use, Morgan?”

“Me? Well, I like using the punching bag right before Henry and I beat up each other.”

“Beat up? That sounds rather Neanderthal.”

“I suppose it is.” Morgan studied the sidewalk as they made their way back to the precinct. “But considering my line of work, fighting certainly comes in handy. Maybe you should learn a move or two, Counselor. New York isn’t as safe as your Charleston.”

“Maybe I will.”

“But you’ll need something a bit more informal than what you’re wearing.”

“Well, I was expecting to be in court, not a gym. My leotard’s somewhere in the bottom of one of the many boxes stacked in my apartment, and I’d be a little underdressed in my underwear.”

Morgan contemplated that image. She quickly banished it, since it brought a strange heat to her thighs. “It would probably be quicker just to buy a new set in the meantime. Tell you what, how about you and I go shopping for gym clothes after work?”

“Yes. I’d love that. I’m in court until about four. Come and find me when you’re done for the day.”

They arrived at the station and entered the building, going in opposite directions in the hallway.

“Until then, Counselor.”

51

“Absolutely, Sergeant.” Andrea gave Morgan a dazzling smile before she left.

“So,” a low voice murmured in Morgan’s ear, “how did lunch go?”

“Jesus! Will you stop doing that?” Morgan looked over her shoulder into Henry’s sparkling eyes. “Fine. It was just fine, okay?”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Well, come on. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your damned business.” His grin widened.

“Okay,” she said, “you asked for it. I threw her down on the table and we had wild monkey sex in front of all the customers. It was quite a sight. I don’t think we’ll be allowed back there anytime soon.” She returned his stunned look with a grin of her own. “Oh, for crying out loud. I was kidding. She was very interested as to why I was taking her to lunch.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That you made me do it.”

Henry clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Well, you did. And it’s not my fault.”

“Are you seeing her again?” he teased.

“Henry, stop. We kissed and made up, so you can stop trying to mend broken bridges.” She sighed deeply. “We agreed to be friends. Your crusade is over.”

“When are you seeing her again?” Henry’s eagerness to keep this particular ball rolling was starting to annoy her.

“She wants to come with us to the gym tomorrow.”

“Andy? To the gym?”

Morgan, too, thought it was a contradiction in terms. Here was a society Southern belle wanting to go to a smelly, sweaty New York City gym.

Morgan knew exactly what Henry was thinking. “I’m not going to talk to you anymore about this. If she wants to exercise in a smelly gym rather than the gym in her own building, then that’s her decision. So just drop it.”

He made a motion of zipping his lips, crossing his heart, and holding up his hand to swear an oath.

“I’m taking her shopping for gym gear this afternoon after work,” Morgan said.

His lips twitched from the mighty effort she could see it took him not to smile.

52

Morgan poked him. “Not another word out of you, or I’ll let her use you as the punching bag tomorrow.”

His hands came up to ward off the curse, both knowing very well that it was an idle threat.

“Now, before gym day comes one day early, get the car and let’s go see Vaughan.”

While Henry went to sign out a car, Morgan visited the captain’s office, tapping gently on the frosted glass. After hearing a gruff “Come in,” Morgan opened the door and entered.

“Captain? We’re heading off to the hospital to interview Vaughan. Do you have anything to add?”

“No, it’s just a preliminary statement. Come and find me when you get back. I’m reading the wife’s and daughter’s statements. It’s pretty much as you said it would be.”

“I asked forensics to check out the bedside water glass. It seems that Vaughan’s water was spiked. They’re still trying to determine the contaminant, and I asked Hodges to send us their report as soon as it’s done.”

“Good work, Sergeant.”

Morgan hesitated, still concerned about Markham’s show of leniency. Usually he barked and she jumped.

“Now get out of here,” he growled.

Morgan left the office in a bit of a daze. She slowly descended the stairs to the sidewalk and climbed into the waiting car.

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked.

She turned to face him. “What day is it?”

“June 17. Why?”

“Nope, not my birthday. The captain’s acting really weird. Basically patted me on the head and sent me on my way without a single order.”

“I keep telling you you’re the engineer of this choo-choo.”

“Nope, that’s not it. There’s something else.” She sorted through the last few days in her mind, looking for some sign of a change in the captain’s behavior.

“Will you stop it? You’re quite capable of running this investigation, despite what that brain of yours is telling you. Markham’s fine, and as far as I’ve heard, his family’s fine, too. Just accept it as an opportunity you can’t afford to pass up.”

She turned her attention to the scenery, watching the New York natives go about their everyday business. Maybe it was just her natural wariness at work. “Okay. Let’s go interview this guy.” 53

Henry drove at a leisurely pace toward the hospital, much to Morgan’s relief. They arrived at the hospital with time to spare, but the endless patrolling for a parking spot, even an illegal one, quickly ate up precious minutes. As a last resort, Henry dropped Morgan off at the front door while he continued the search. The front doors opened silently, and the wall of cool air hit Morgan as she entered. She approached the front desk and flashed her badge at the receptionist.

“Hi. I’m here to see Arthur Vaughan. He was admitted this morning for observation. There should be two uniformed officers with him.”

“Second floor, Room 203,” the middle-aged woman said.

“Thank you.”

Morgan took the elevator and stepped out on the second floor, where she looked at the clock on the wall in front of her. Two minutes to spare. Who would have thought? She hadn’t been on time since the Christmas party last year.

“Ah, Sergeant, there you are.”

“Mr. Marks.”

The lawyer pursed his lips. “Let’s not keep Mr. Vaughan waiting, shall we?”

Vaughan was sitting up in bed in considerably better condition than he was that morning. Color had returned to his face, and except for the heart monitor leads stuck to his chest, he looked fine.

“Hello, Sergeant,” Vaughan said.

“Mr. Vaughan.” She looked around the room. Connie and Chelsea, both seated, looked for a moment almost bored before they donned their “concerned relative” masks. “Mrs. Vaughan, Ms. Vaughan,” Morgan said.

Both women nodded at her but said nothing, and Morgan turned her attention back to the man in the bed.

“Mr. Vaughan, I won’t keep you long. I just need a statement about what happened this morning.”

“Of course, Sergeant.” Out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw the lawyer shake his head in the negative. Marks let out an impatient snort, and Morgan was hard-pressed not to respond to it. Instead, she took out a small digital recorder, pushed the Record button, and placed it on the bed. “This is a record of interview of statement taken from Arthur Vaughan, in reference to the death of Rose McManus, dated June 17 at 2:05 p.m. by Detective Sergeant Morgan O’Callaghan, badge number 44015.”

54

Morgan studied him. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, and his hair was graying. She saw only confusion and apprehension in his eyes. “Mr. Vaughan, can you tell me, in your own words, what happened this morning?”

“I woke up about… what was it, Connie, about seven? I got up, went to the bathroom, got a drink of water, then came back to bed. I had today off. Connie and I were supposed to go to some charity luncheon today, but obviously we didn’t make it.” He sighed as if missing the commitment was a sad loss. “Something must have woken me up at… I’m not sure, but I think it was around eight. I can’t remember. It all seems so foggy. There was a loud noise downstairs, and Connie nudged me out of bed to go and investigate. It was really hard to get out of bed. I don’t know why, but I felt like I was moving in slow motion. Then there was another loud noise and I heard voices.”

Morgan took all this in, somehow knowing where this was going to lead.

“The cook was out grocery shopping,” he said, “as she always does on this particular day, so there shouldn’t have been anyone else downstairs besides Rose. I grabbed the gun out of the side table and went down to check things out, but every step I took got harder and harder.” He faltered, as though not sure what to say next. “I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure what happened. It was like a dream where everything was in slow motion. I didn’t know what was real anymore. The next thing I remember, I was sitting on the floor with the gun in my hand, and Rose was on the floor. I have no earthly idea if I did it. Rose was shot dead and I had the gun. Maybe I did do it. I just don’t remember.” Vaughan’s voice broke on the last sentence.

“Sergeant O’Callaghan”—Marks jumped in quickly—”Mr. Vaughan is in distress. Can we continue this interview at another time?”

Morgan looked first at Marks then back at Vaughan, whose distress was obvious. “Thank you, Mr. Vaughan. This is only a preliminary statement, sir. We’ll require a further interview once you’ve been released from the hospital. The statement should be ready soon, and I’ll send an officer over with the paperwork for your signature. We already have your fingerprints, gunshot residue report, slippers, pajamas, and robe, so that will be all for now.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. You’ve been most considerate,”

Vaughan said.

55

“We’ll be in contact in due course. In the meantime, you and your family are required to stay within the city limits. If you have any business dealings in the next few weeks that might require travel, I would highly recommend that you make alternative arrangements.”

“Now just a minute—”

“Mr. Marks, let’s not push this issue. You, sir, are an attorney and should know better than most what’s required during a homicide investigation.” She was getting angry now. “Anyone else would be spending their time cooling their heels in jail.” She turned to Vaughan. “I hope you’ll comply with these conditions, Mr. Vaughan. Otherwise I might be forced to consider you a flight risk. In exchange, I expect that you, or anyone involved with you, will not speak to the media.” She reached for the recorder. “The interview of Arthur Vaughan ends at 2:12 p.m.” With that final statement, she switched it off and prepared to leave, but a voice behind her stopped her.

“Sergeant, please, one moment of your time—can you leave us alone?” Vaughan addressed the latter remark to his family and attorney. “If you will excuse us now,” he said more forcefully. Reluctantly, Marks, Connie, and Chelsea left. Marks hesitated at the door.

“Arthur, this isn’t wise.”

“Clifford, please, just indulge me.”

“I can’t, in all good conscience, agree to this. You’ve had a nasty shock. This is a serious matter, and I strongly advise you to have your legal representative present at all times.”

“Are you saying that I’m not of sound mind? Is that what you’re saying?” A little anger seeped to the surface, showing Morgan a glimpse of Vaughan’s business side.

“No, of course not.”

“What I want to say is between me and the sergeant here, Clifford. Just go.”

“Sergeant, please keep in mind that he’s doing this against his counsel’s advice.”

“Mr. Marks. I haven’t led him in any way. This is his decision, not yours.” Morgan smiled triumphantly as Marks left the room, though she suspected that he was hovering near the closed door trying to hear what was going on.

“Yes?” Morgan returned her attention to Vaughan.

“Sergeant…?” He motioned his hand for her name.

“Morgan O’Callaghan.”

56

“May I call you Morgan?” It was highly unusual but the pleading expression in his eyes made her relent.

“You may.”

“Please sit,” he said.

Morgan sat and stretched her legs out in front of her, glad for the break from standing up.

“What’s going on here?” Vaughan asked abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“By all rights I should be in custody, shouldn’t I? And yet you seem to be going out of your way to keep me out of it.”

“You’re correct, sir. You should be in custody. As the prime suspect in a murder case, it’s procedure for you to be held for questioning.”

“But I’m not. Why?”

“Maybe you should ask your counsel that question, sir.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Circumstantial evidence makes you the prime suspect, but it’s not enough to arrest you. You might have been found at the scene with the gun in your hand, but until the evidence shows you pulled the trigger, you remain a suspect.”

“That’s explaining your doubts, not why I’m not being locked up. Why is that?”

“Jail is not a nice place, Mr. Vaughan, especially for someone of your age and station in life. Lots of nasty things can happen in there. I’m just trying to spare you from possible injury.”

His hand rested on Morgan’s, gently patting it in thanks.

“But if I find that you are, in fact, guilty, your ass will be in there so quick you’ll be scratching yourself at opposite ends of the city at the same time.”

“I have to admit that you’ve stunned me. You’re not like any police officer I’ve ever known.”

“Oh, no, I bleed real cop’s blood, sir. I am the ‘real deal.’ But not everything adds up here, and until I get to the bottom of it, you’re just another suspect.”

Despite his dire circumstances, Arthur Vaughan smiled. It wasn’t an “I got away with it” smile but a “you are a sweet woman”

smile. Morgan suspected that she had suddenly become one of his best friends for her act of charity. Not that she saw it as that, far from it, but the thought of him languishing in jail for what she was beginning to think of as suspect evidence was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible. Until she heard otherwise, he was free, and for that he was grateful.

57

“Then I will do my very best not to let you down.” He hesitated. “Perhaps I’d better start with a secret, something not even my family knows, but it will give me a solid reason as to why I couldn’t kill Rose.”

Morgan moved her chair closer to the bed. The mention of a secret instinctively made her draw near, like he would whisper it to her.

“My wife thinks Rose and I were having some kind of affair. In fact, Rose was my daughter.”

She stared at him. “You seem to be taking her death very well.”

“I don’t think it has sunk in yet.” He patted the sheets absently.

“It was way, way before I met Connie. Connie and I have only been married five years—and I know what you’re thinking.” He laughed as she lifted a hand to her forehead. “No, it’s not written there. I know that Connie married me for my money. Do you know how good it feels to have a beautiful woman on your arm when you go out, even if it is an ‘arrangement’? I get a little companionship, and she gets a whole heap of money.

“Anyway, back to the story. I met Rose’s mother, Bridget, about twenty-five years ago, while I was still married to my first wife. It was a whirlwind affair and over before I realized it had begun. But oh, my, she was a beautiful woman. She disappeared from my life as quickly as she appeared, and I lost contact with her. It wasn’t until an obituary in the paper caught my eye and alerted me to her funeral that I even found out that she had a child.”

He hesitated. “Before you ask, I checked out Rose and her birth occurred nine months after my fling with her mother. She’s mine, all right. So I took her in and gave her work. I wanted to make sure she was looked after.”

Was Vaughan living in a dream world? “Did you take a paternity test? Why didn’t you just tell her?”

“Because Bridget wasn’t like that. She loved me,” he said desperately. “She did, but I was caught in a difficult marriage. For both our sakes, Bridget left. And no, I didn’t get a DNA test done. I suppose I just couldn’t bring myself to ask her because it would raise too many questions that I couldn’t answer. No, I had enough evidence to satisfy me that she was my daughter. I would help her from a distance and remain quietly in the background.”

“But after your first marriage faltered, why didn’t you look for her?”

“I did.”

58

But not hard enough, Morgan thought. If she had been looking for a lost love, she’d still be looking today.

“Too much time had passed, and she seemed to have vanished. Anyway, I met Rose at the funeral and I knew she was mine. I just couldn’t tell her the truth. To see that look of abandonment, wondering where I had been all those years when she had no father. No, it was better for everyone for me to help her where I could and let sleeping dogs lie.” He sighed deeply. “So, you see, I couldn’t possibly kill my own daughter.”

“People have killed for less, Mr. Vaughan.”

“Please. Call me Arthur.”

“Sorry, sir. I can’t.”

“Please—for me. Arthur.”

“Okay, fine. Arthur. But only when we’re alone. Outside, you’re Mr. Vaughan and I’m Sergeant O’Callaghan. Is that understood?”

“Understood.”

“But understand this, Arthur. This is all the help you get from me. There will be no interference from me. I’m here to discover the truth, and if it leads to you, then you’ll fall. All I’m doing is saving you from getting hurt inside jail. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you that could have been avoided.”

“I appreciate your candor.”

“But be warned, this could change at a moment’s notice. If I’m taken off the case, you’ll probably be incarcerated immediately and I won’t be able to help you.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“I would suggest that you lay low. If at all possible, cancel your appointments and just rest easy at home. There will also be an unmarked police car sitting outside your house until further notice. Now I’d better leave before your lawyer has an aneurysm.”

“Leave him to me.”

Morgan stood, crossed the room, and reached for the handle of the door.

“One final thing,” he said. “What made you decide to grant me this concession? My innocence?”

She regarded him for a moment. “I guess I’m a sucker for blue eyes.” She winked at him and left.

* * *

59

Morgan watched the clock on the wall tick slowly by, silently willing it to move faster. While most of the afternoon she had been tied up in the interview room getting statements from the delivery boy and Mrs. O’Malley, the cook, she was now in the midst of paperwork again while she impatiently waited to hear from the medical examiner and ballistics. Hodges still hadn’t called back, leaving her to wonder what was actually in that glass. If it was taking the CSU this long, it obviously wasn’t one of the more common drugs.

Finally, Morgan made arrangements to interview Vaughan’s employees at his business. Two were noticeably absent, Vaughan’s personal secretary and the accountant. Vaughan himself promised they would be made available on their immediate return. Still, it didn’t hurt to do a little poking around into their backgrounds. Files from other active cases littered her desk, but she just couldn’t work up the energy to delve into the intricacies involved in many of them. Her mind was on the current case or, more to the point, the lack of forensic results coming back to her.

“Why didn’t you come and find me?” Andrea’s low murmur made Morgan jump in her chair. Some cop she was turning out to be. Three times today people had gotten the drop on her, scaring a number of very useful years off her life.

Morgan looked up at Andrea and noted that she was wearing her glasses again. She wasn’t sure why she had a reaction to the glasses, except that it changed Andrea’s appearance. It made her look cute. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You’re back early.”

“The last case ended up a no-contest. The defendant changed his plea, and the case was over. I was just doing some research while waiting for you. What are you up to?”

“Trying to get some overdue paperwork done, but I’m not succeeding.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Morelli’s unwelcome arrival. “So, Andy, you coming to McGee’s after work?”

Morgan watched with interest as Andrea’s eyes narrowed in anger at the deliberate use of her nickname.

“Detective, how many times do I have to tell you? My name is Andrea. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Aw, c’mon, Counselor. We’re co-workers here. What’s your problem with a little friendliness? I’m sure that once you get to know me—”

He seemed miffed at Andrea’s dismissal, but only for a moment. He vainly plowed ahead with his attempted seduction.

60

“Hey, Morelli, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

Morgan asked. “She’s engaged to be married, you moron.”

“That’s not stopping you, is it O’Callaghan?”

Morgan felt like she’d been slapped in the face. Andrea stood, all five foot three inches of her, and invaded Morelli’s personal space. She poked him in the chest as she spoke angrily. “Enough! I’ve taken all the crap I’m going to take from you. One more word out of that mouth of yours, and I’ll be filing a complaint with the department. Understand me? Can you say sexual harassment? I can.” She paused for effect and his eyes widened in surprise.

“And you owe O’Callaghan here an apology. She has done nothing improper, immoral, or ill-mannered. In fact, out of the entire bunch of you only she and Detective Chang have made any attempt at making me feel welcome here.”

“Hey! Me and the boys welcomed you just fine,” Morelli said defensively.

“‘Hi, doll,’ doesn’t constitute a proper welcome in my book, Detective. In fact, it smacks of condescension. Are all women objects for your personal amusement?”

“I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“Well, here’s your first. Try that crap again with me, mister, and you will live to seriously regret it.” Andrea’s voice had now reached fever pitch, drawing the captain out of his office to watch from his doorway. She looked over Morelli’s shoulder to Markham.

“I apologize for disturbing you, Captain.”

“Anything I should be aware of, Counselor?”

Morelli visibly blanched.

“No, Captain. I was just telling Detective Morelli here how I’ve certainly appreciated Sergeant O’Callaghan’s assistance with settling in. She’s been a great help to me.”

“Good. Well done, Sergeant. Morelli, get back to work.” With those few well-chosen words, Markham reentered his office. Andrea’s finger was still poised over Morelli’s heart, ready to strike like a viper if he made one sound. “And you—if you don’t stop all this speculation and innuendo you’ve been passing as gossip about the sergeant… she can come and see me and I’ll gladly help sue your sorry ass from here to Christmas. I don’t give a flying fuck if she’s straight, gay, trots around with a feather stuck up her ass, if she’s a Buddhist or a Martian. All that matters is that she’s a decent human being and a damned good cop. And that’s all that should concern you.”

61

Andrea turned to Morgan. She looked over her shoulder at Morelli as he moved away. “And Morelli? Just because a woman isn’t interested in you doesn’t mean she’s gay. It just shows she has good taste.”

Morgan stifled a laugh as howls and wolf-whistles filled the air. Morelli looked around angrily at his fellow detectives, humiliated. “I don’t like being made a fool of,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard by the two women.

“I would’ve thought you’d be used to it by now,” Morgan said. No one had ever stood up for her before, at least not like this, and certainly no one in such an enticingly small package. She was touched. “Bravo,” Morgan whispered. They looked at one another for a moment, and then Andrea returned to business.

“So, you’re going to take me shopping?”

“You still want to be seen with me? Brave woman.”

“I’m prepared to take my chances.” Andrea waved a hand.

“C’mon, let’s go do what we gals do best.”

Morgan sifted through a number of possibilities as a myriad of emotions passed over her face.

“I’m talking shopping, Sergeant.”

Morgan cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed, and smiled at Andrea. “Hang on. Let me see if the captain will let me get out of here a little early.” She looked up at the clock, figuring it was almost time for the shift change.

As she approached Markham’s office, Morgan seriously doubted he would say yes but all she could do was try. Gently rapping on the frosted glass, she waited for the bellow.

“Come!”

With as much bravado as she could muster, she entered. The captain sat hunched over his desk with masses of paper laid out in front of him. “Ah, Sergeant, just the person I wanted to see. Bring me up-to-date on the Vaughan case.”

Morgan sat in the chair opposite her boss. So much for leaving early. “Vaughan’s statement should be signed as we speak. I sent Velasquez over with it, along with a request for blood sample results. Vaughan’s bedside glass of water definitely was spiked. Contents unknown at present. They’re working on it.”

She thought for a moment. “Let’s see. Statements, fingerprints, and gunshot residue have been collected from Vaughan, the wife, the daughter, and the delivery boy. The victim’s autopsy is being carried out this afternoon, and we should get the report in the morning. The crime lab boys are working their butts off. We should

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start hearing from them soon. I asked Morelli, Lowenstein, and Fredericks to run down the various Vaughan financial records, just to save time. Blake’s looking into the victim’s financial dealings, and the others are doing general background checks on anyone involved with the family.”

“That it?”

“We haven’t been able to track down next of kin.” Well, she had if Vaughan’s claim was valid. Morgan hesitated. She couldn’t withhold Vaughan’s confession from Markham. His secret was going to come out one way or the other. “Vaughan confided to me today that he is Rose McManus’s biological father.”

The captain’s dark face tightened at the revelation. “This was supposed to be an open-and-shut case. What happened to that?”

“I don’t know, Captain. My gut instinct was telling me something was wrong from the moment I walked into that house.”

She looked at him. “Maybe it was indigestion.”

The last thing she expected was his roar of laughter. She had more of an image of him chewing a large cigar between his grinding teeth, his coat long forgotten and his sleeves rolled up his muscular arms, looking very much like a demented rottweiler on steroids.

“Ah, Morgan, you’re just what the doctor ordered.”

“Sir, are you all right? You’ve been acting a little… strange lately.”

The smile faded from his face.

“What’s going on, Captain? I’ve known you too long. I know something’s up.”

“Nothing.” But his face told her more.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Just a little stressed out, that’s all.”

“Is that why you’ve had me lead this case? ‘Cause I have to tell you, it’s scaring the hell out of me, sir.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. I just had a series of tests, and I’m waiting for the results. It’s the not knowing that’s killing me.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll do my best to hold up my end.”

“I know you will, otherwise I wouldn’t have given the case to you.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “You’ll do fine, Mo.”

Mo? This is serious. She could feel her pulse jump. Delmar Markham had never ever used that name. “Does Delores know? How bad is it?”

“No, I’ve haven’t told her yet. No point in getting her upset until I know something for sure.” He was trying to keep his facade in place, but the strain was telling on him. 63

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I know. You are your daddy’s girl.”

Sometimes being Mickey O’Callaghan’s daughter worked for her and sometimes it didn’t. It was nice that this was one of those times when it was a blessing. Morgan scratched her ear. “Actually, I came to ask if I could leave a little early.”

Markham glanced at his watch. “I’m taking the counselor shopping,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up, nearly invisible on his dark complexion.

“She wants to join me and Henry at the gym tomorrow, but she’s got nothing to wear. I offered to help her and maybe get her acclimated to the layout of the area.” She was babbling and she knew it, but the captain was staring at her, stripping away all her arguments. “The stores will be jam-packed soon, and it doesn’t give us much time to get things done.”

“You seem to be making sure the counselor’s taken care of.”

“Captain, the counselor’s arrival has been met with some hostility, and I’m certainly one of those responsible for that. Maybe I’m just trying to ease my guilty conscience.”

“You feel guilty?”

“Yes, sir, I do. My dad would have chewed me out for carrying on like that. I don’t know. Maybe I need a vacation.” Morgan couldn’t remember the last vacation she took. There didn’t seem to be any point in taking time off when she had nowhere to go, no one to visit, and too much time to fill.

“Which reminds me—” Markham rifled through the mountain of loose papers on his desk. “Personnel asked me to remind you that your vacation days have accumulated so much that they can’t roll over anymore. They request you rectify this problem as soon as possible. In other words, take a damn vacation, will you?”

“And where do you suggest I go on this vacation?”

“How about your brothers? You haven’t seen them in a while.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

Markham regarded her, but his expression told her nothing.

“Captain Markham—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Things are a little strained between me and my brothers. It’s best to stay away for now.”

“Fine, but make a dent in the accumulated vacation time before personnel jumps down my throat, okay?”

“But—”

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“No, Sergeant, it’s your personal business. You don’t need to explain it to me. Now, back to the counselor. She’s a big girl. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

“I’m just helping her out since no one here seems interested.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Me? No problem here, Sergeant. Is there one for you?”

“No, sir.”

“Fine. The shift change is coming in soon, so I have no objection to you pulling out early. I have a feeling that tomorrow’s going to be a very busy day.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” She made a quick exit, detoured to the restroom, and splashed cold water on her face to remove the blush from her cheeks. Somehow she felt she had lost more ground than she had gained in that meeting.

Morgan had just begun clearing her desk, and already Henry was in her ear. “You’re in a big hurry to leave.” His curiosity was going to be her downfall.

“Yeah, I’ve got an errand to run before the stores close. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you later.”

At that precise moment, Andrea strode through the door, purse in hand. “Ready to go?”

Aw, damn! Morgan couldn’t help herself. She looked. Staring back at her was the biggest grin on Henry’s face and an “I told you so” in his eyes.

“An errand, huh?” he teased.

“If you must know, the counselor here has nothing to wear to the gym tomorrow. I’m just showing her where to buy something. Not that it’s any of your business.” Why was she explaining herself? She knew he wasn’t listening. All he saw was the two of them walking out the door together.

“Nothing to wear, huh? Now that I’d like to see.”

“Just ignore him, Morgan,” Andrea said. “He’s pouting because he can’t leave early, too.”

Andrea led the way out of the squad room, and Morgan followed a few steps behind her, putting as much space between them as she could. A dozen sets of eyes watched them leave—

hostile, envious, angry, and lustful—all boring a massive hole in her back. She cursed under her breath. Her reputation was shot to hell now. If they had their suspicions before, in their eyes they were now totally confirmed.

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As they stood outside on the stoop, Andrea glanced at Morgan.

“What’s the matter?”

Morgan stared at the ground. “They think there’s something going on between us.”

“Going on? Is there something I don’t know about?”

Should Morgan lie and carry on like nothing happened, or should she tell the truth? She looked into Andrea’s eyes and searched for some clue. “My fellow workers seem to think I’m gay, despite whatever I tell them.”

“Do they have any proof that it’s true?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t understand. I have to work with these people. I can deny it all I like, but they can drive me from a job I love. They could make it so I never work as a cop in this city again.”

“But the law’s on your side, Morgan.”

“That might be, but if they want to blackball me, then it will happen and the law can’t do a damned thing about it. You need to understand that being a cop comes with a whole different set of rules. To belong, you have to fit in, to be ‘one of the boys.’ You play by their rules. If you don’t, then you pay.”

Andrea studied her. “Won’t anyone back you up on this?”

It shook Morgan up to think that she could lose her job over this. “Henry’s fine. I don’t think he’d worry if I came from the moon.”

“Yeah, he’s great. What about the captain?”

“I wasn’t sure about him, but something he said to me before we left makes me think he might be okay. But it’s not him I’m worried about. The Three Musketeers are the ones who can bring me down, and Morelli’s just nasty enough to do it. A word here or there, and suddenly I’m going to freeze from the chill.”

“Then we’ll sue him. I can—”

“No. Stay out of this. It’s been going on for a long time, but Morelli’s never had the evidence to back up his accusations.”

Slowly, Morgan descended the stairs, and Andrea followed, stopping on the last step.

“And if he wins?”

“Then I guess I look for a new job.”

“That’s not fair. You’ve done nothing wrong. That’s… that’s…”

“Discrimination? Yeah, it is. It’s not right, but it has a habit of winning. I’m only glad Dad isn’t alive to see this.”

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“I’m sure he’d be very proud of his daughter, Mo,” she whispered. Andrea placed her hand on Morgan’s shoulder, gently squeezing her in support and comfort. “Come on. Let’s go spend some money.”

* * *

They located a good-sized sporting goods store that had a wide selection of workout gear. Morgan sat outside the booth as Andrea tried on different items, and she could hear the swish of material as it slid over skin. The store was so quiet she could pick up every whisper, snap, and zip that escaped the dressing booth. The door opened and Andrea stood there in a hot pink leotard that molded perfectly to her body. “What do you think?”

Morgan’s skin broke out in a light sweat. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Andrea turned around, trying to look at her back in the mirror.

Morgan was mesmerized. She watched the muscles across Andrea’s back contract, and she couldn’t help but examine her tight ass, lightly muscled and well rounded. She had never seen such a fine ass as the one that stood in front of her right now.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“So, should I buy it?”

“I have one suggestion. Don’t wear pink.”

“Why not?”

“You’re going to draw a whole lot of attention to yourself.”

“I will? Is something wrong with it?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just you’re in it and that’s enough.”

“Sweet talking me, are you?”

“Not at all. Just stating the facts, ma’am.”

“The facts. Right.” Andrea stared at Morgan, as if trying to gauge her sincerity.

“Fine.” Morgan shrugged. “Don’t believe me, but don’t complain when the guys start hooting at you.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not going to happen.”

“If you say so.”

“What would you suggest then?” Andrea asked. Morgan stepped back, critically studying Andrea, rubbing her chin in thought. “Well, let’s see. Maybe a nice ski suit would work, or a bulky sweater and baggy pants.”

“Ah, that’s good for exercising, huh?”

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“Not really. But it will stop all the harassment you’ll get.”

“Ha ha. Seriously, what should I wear? What do you wear?”

“Me? I wear a tank top with shorts or sweats.”

“That’s not very feminine.”

“Feminine? Me? No. But it’s practical. I don’t prance around, Andrea, I fight.”

After much arguing, searching, and trying on, they agreed on a couple of leotards in subdued colors and modest cut, although much to Morgan’s disgust, Andrea added the pink one into the pile. Andrea also bought a tank top, shorts, sweats, and tennis shoes. At Morgan’s insistence, she added a decent sports bra. Morgan waited for Andrea to join her on the sidewalk, watching her shove the store receipt and her much abused credit card into her purse while Morgan adjusted the shopping bags.

“So, now what?” Andrea asked.

“Let’s get you home.”

Andrea looked up and down the busy street. “No, it’s too early. How about we get some dinner?”

“Dinner? Is that a date?” Morgan said lightly.

“A date? Well, ma’am, I’m engaged to be married. That would be highly improper,” Andrea joked. “Where would you suggest? I suppose McGee’s is out. How about Monkeyshines?”

Morgan looked around to get her bearings. “Nah, something a little nicer. There’s somewhere nearby I think you’d like.”

Andrea motioned with her hand. “Lead on, Macduff.”

Chapter 6

“Very nice.” Andrea was impressed. The cozy little ristorante, on the corner of one of the less busy intersections, was nearly full with diners, always a sign of good food. Morgan held the decorated glass door open for Andrea then followed her into the cool air and the murmur of background conversation. “Very nice indeed.”

“I thought you might like it.”

“Ah, Officer O’Callaghan. Ciao bella! ” The proprietor bustled to greet Morgan. “You have been away too long. Please, please let me get you your usual table.”

“Vittorio, please, just a quiet table toward the back would be nice.”

“Ah, miele, I’m so sorry to hear about your papa. We were mourning for many a day.”

“Grazie, Vittorio. It was a sad day for us all.” Andrea was watching her, but Morgan chose to ignore it for now. Too many memories close to the surface, even after all this time. It was a matter to discuss when the memories and pain had faded with time. The short, middle-aged owner of the restaurant escorted them to a corner nook where a lone table sat surrounded by a thin wall of plants, giving his customers an intimate and private dining experience. Vittorio snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared, menus in hand. Morgan took the proffered wine list.

“Red or white?” Morgan asked absently as she studied the wine list, not that it meant much to her. One name was pretty much the same as another to her. Red was red and white was white.

“White, thank you.”

Trying to bluff her way through ordering something fancy was fraught with danger so Morgan settled for the obvious. “Vino bianco, se vuoi per favore. ” The waiter, preparing to leave with the request, was intercepted by Vittorio, who whispered in his ear. Vittorio attended to them personally. “If I may, I recommend the special. The seafood is especially fresh today and the sauce is… 68

69

mwaa.” He smacked his lips, placing his fingers to his mouth and expressing his joy as only he knew how. “We have a new chef since you last came. It has been way, way too long. Why do you stay away?”

“I’m sorry, Vittorio. Too many memories, I guess. Too many reminders.”

He patted her shoulder. “Don’t, Morgan. Don’t hurt yourself this way.” He sighed deeply and turned his attention to Andrea.

“And who is your charming dinner companion?”

“This is the new Assistant District Attorney for our division. Vittorio, Andrea Worthington. I’m just showing her how to get around. You know how hard that can be.”

“Of course, of course. Signorina. Any friend of Morgan is a friend of mine.” He bowed with a flourish, taking Andrea’s hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. He turned to Morgan. “And you, mia amica, don’t make a stranger of yourself. Enjoy your dinner.”

He wandered off, chuckling.

The waiter turned up with a bottle of wine—a very expensive bottle of wine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t order this.”

“Compliments of the house, signorina.” Morgan looked over at Vittorio, who winked back at her.

“Should I ask how they know you so well?” Andrea said as the waiter poured the wine into the glasses before excusing himself

“This was my dad’s old beat way back when he was a uniformed officer.”

“I’m sorry, Morgan. He must have been a special man.”

“He sure was,” she whispered.

“And he would be very proud of his daughter.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Morgan toyed with the edge of her menu.

“No maybe about it. From what I’ve heard, you’re a damn fine cop, don’t ever doubt that. And I’m discovering that you are a very decent and sweet person, too. Couldn’t ask for more than that.”

“Sweet? I’ve been called many things, some unrepeatable, but sweet never came up. And considering how we started out, how can you even say that?”

“I did a bit of snooping around about you.”

“You could have come and asked me.” The look of dismay on Andrea’s face made her change her statement. “Okay, you’re right. I would have probably told you to mind your own business.”

“Probably? Very likely, I think. You make things hard for yourself by cutting off social contact like that.”

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“Being alone has never bothered me.” Not totally true. Most of the time being on her own was not an issue, but every so often loneliness would creep up on her and ambush her. Henry always seemed to manage to pull her out of her funk when that happened.

“Anyway, back to the story. This was Dad’s piece of New York City, and I came with him here a lot after Mom died. It was like his beat had taken us in and looked after us. A surrogate family, if you like. He had looked after them all those years ago, and now they were looking after us.”

“That’s something very special,” Andrea said softly.

“Dad appreciated the helping hand because it was so unexpected. It really meant a lot to him that they would think about us. Sometimes there would be casserole dishes or a meatloaf sitting on the doorstep. The store owners would come out to say hi, bring him out a cold drink or cup of coffee, or just shoot the breeze. They treated us like one of their own.”

“Wow. I didn’t think a sense of community existed anymore.”

“In a big city like this, it tends to get swallowed up with all the crime and self-absorption. It’s nice to know that generosity, friendship, and family are still out there somewhere.”

Andrea reached across the table to touch Morgan’s hand. “That explains why you’re so comfortable being alone. There’s always someone around if you need them.”

“I suppose so. I never really thought about it that way. It’s how I live my life, and I’m happy with it.” It was another lie, but she suspected telling the truth would make Andrea want to help her. When the waiter returned, Morgan ordered the special of the day and Andrea ordered something a little lighter. Andrea sipped her wine as she observed her dinner companion.

“What?” Morgan stopped eating, leaving a piece of pasta dangling from her lips.

“The candlelight does wonders for you.”

“Me?” She sucked in the hanging strand of food and licked her lips. “Are you saying that I look better in shadow than I do in daylight?”

“No, of course not. It was an offhand compliment.”

“Offhand all right,” Morgan tried to sound hurt, but she could only hold the expression for a second. “I’m sure you don’t compliment women too often, but I get the point. So, is the wine good?”

“Yes. Very good.”

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“Your linguine’s getting cold. It would probably be a good idea to eat something with the wine.”

“True.” Andrea put down her glass and looked at the plate.

“I’ve just got to decide where to start.”

“By picking up the knife and fork?”

“Are you worried about me having too much to drink? I can handle it, you know.”

“No, I’m not, but I don’t want to tote your butt home, either.”

As appealing as that thought was, carrying Andrea several blocks would test even Morgan’s strength.

“Fine. I’ve had my limit anyway.” Andrea looked at the mound of food in front of her.

Morgan smiled. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

“Why? Am I going to get lost?”

“Well, you’re certainly looking at the pasta like you might.”

“I’m not used to eating so much.”

Morgan believed that. Andrea was svelte in every sense of the word. She had seen that firsthand in the sporting goods store.

“What?” Andrea said.

Morgan’s thoughts were interrupted. “What?”

“You looked like you were going to say something.” Andrea dug her fork into the pasta.

“No. Nothing.”

“Or something that was going to get you into trouble.” Andrea put the pasta in her mouth.

“Probably.”

It took a second or two for Andrea to finish the bite she was eating. “No, come on. You can tell me.” Andrea smiled as if to diffuse any suggestion of a backlash.

“Why is it those who look so good worry about their weight?”

“I suppose because we want to look good. So we do worry about our weight.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. In fact, you could easily carry another pound or two.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m too thin?”

“No. Don’t go putting words into my mouth. Save that for court, Counselor. What I’m not very successfully trying to say is that you could afford to eat more. You’ll look great whatever your weight is.” Morgan knew she had opened a can of worms she wouldn’t be able to close. “Have I got myself out of trouble yet?”

Andrea took another mouthful of pasta and swallowed it before replying. “Okay, you’re off the hook.”

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Morgan finished her meal first and sat back while Andrea continued to eat. For a woman who said she didn’t eat much, she was making an earnest effort to finish it. “You seem to know an awful lot about me. What about you?”

“What do you want to know?”

“That’s leaving yourself open to some seriously personal questions. Are we at that point yet?” Morgan reached for her water and took a sip.

“I suppose we all have to take that leap of faith sometime, Sergeant.”

“You’re serious about being my friend, aren’t you?” Morgan scrutinized the woman seated across the table from her. “Why?”

“Do you have to question everything?”

“It’s my job, Counselor.”

“That it is, Morgan. Then I shouldn’t point out that, as a detective, you should have found out everything about me before now.”

Andrea was proving to be a fascinating woman. She wasn’t intimidated by Morgan’s size or personality.

“If I did that, Andrea, what would there be to talk about?” But she did have a point. Morgan should have done her homework.

“What burning questions do you have for me?” Andrea worked her way through the pasta, slowing down as she passed the halfway mark.

“One comes to mind. Why are you here?”

“The job was too good to pass up. I thought that was obvious.”

“No, not that. You’re getting married soon. Your family, your career, and your life are in Charleston. Why pull up all the roots you have to move so far away?”

“Like I said, for the—”

“Job. Yes, you did say that. But I think there’s something else.”

Andrea’s eyebrow rose. “Really, Doctor O’Callaghan?”

“Yes, really. Now finish your food.” Morgan waved her hand in dismissal. “I think maybe you’re having second thoughts about this marriage.”

“Ah!” Andrea put down her fork and raised her finger, “But Joel’s moving to New York. He’ll be here in a few weeks. What about that?”

Morgan rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see.” She looked at Andrea and was pleased to see no hostility directed at her.

“Maybe it’s to get away from your family.”

“That goes without saying, but that’s not the reason.”

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“You want your family to live in your back pocket?”

“Of course not, but I honestly came here for the job. It can open up so many doors for me.”

“If you say so.” But Morgan’s intonation hinted at something else.

“I do say so. You don’t believe me?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter. It’s what you believe that counts. And what about Joel? How does he feel about the move? What about his work?”

“He seems okay about it. Let’s just say Joel is between positions at the moment.”

“That sounds like he doesn’t work for a living.”

Andrea took one final bite of her pasta. “You got me on that one. He comes from money and doesn’t need to work.”

“So, he’s happy for you to be the breadwinner, is that it?”

Morgan surmised that Joel was a do-nothing rich kid, and she disliked him already. “You’re not worried he’s going to put his foot down?”

“It’s not his choice.”

“Ah, but it is. Marriage is about compromise. Your choices will have to take into consideration Joel’s opinions as well.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Andrea put her utensils on the nearempty plate, signaling she had finally finished her meal.

“Maybe he won’t like his wife working. Especially considering the social circles you two will be moving in. Then there are the kids.”

“Who mentioned anything about children?”

“Not yet, but once you’re married your mother will be hounding you. Tick tock, tick tock. That biological clock of yours is counting down.”

“How do you know what my mother thinks?”

“Elementary, my dear Andrea. If you’re here to escape your parents, then they must not be very happy about you having a career. Am I right?” The silence answered Morgan’s question for her. “The next logical step is to push you into having kids so you have to give up being a lawyer.”

“I’m not giving up my job. It took me too long to get here and—”

“And you want it all. I can understand that. I’m just airing what is probably going through your mind.”

“I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.”

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“Ah-ah-ah.” Morgan waved her finger in the air. “Who’s kidding who here? I’m sure you’ve looked at it from every angle. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here as an ADA.”

“Maybe. A little. All right, yes. So when did you become a shrink?”

“I haven’t gone for my exam yet.” Morgan grinned, knowing very well that her dimples were showing. “I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that is you.”

Morgan could see that Andrea was getting uncomfortable and decided to end the conversation. She made a point of looking at her watch. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure we both have an early start tomorrow.”

“True. I am a bit tired.”

Morgan sensed that Andrea was exhausted. It was time to call it a night. “Come on.” Morgan pushed her seat back and stood. “I’ll escort you home.”

Andrea followed Morgan’s lead and stood as well. “You just want to know where I live.”

“As if. I just want to make sure you get home safely.”

Morgan laid a handful of money on the table to more than cover the bill and tip, and guided Andrea toward the front door.

“Hey, Morgan! Don’t be a stranger, eh?” Vittorio called from across the restaurant.

“Arrivederci, Vittorio, e grazie,” Morgan said as she herded Andrea out the door.

* * *

The walk to Andrea’s home turned out to be a pleasant journey. The temperature had dropped and the sky was clear, not that the stars could be seen over the glare of the city lights. With the traffic finally reduced to a tolerable level and the leisurely walk to Andrea’s apartment relatively unimpeded by pedestrians, they casually crossed a quiet street without much regard for anything else but the sidewalk on the other side. A gentle breeze had picked up but did little to cool the balmy evening.

The rustle of a bag drew an angry response from Andrea.

“Damn it!”

“What?” Morgan had been walking beside her and was unaware of the torn bag until a pair of tennis shoes dropped on the asphalt.

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Andrea crouched down in the street to pick up what had fallen out of the torn bag.

Morgan took off after a rampant T-shirt that had been swept away by the breeze. When she heard a squeal of tires, she searched for Andrea, who was blissfully unaware of the approaching car. Morgan ran toward her in sheer panic.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark vehicle’s speed increase as it raced toward its unsuspecting victim. The car seemed to deliberately head right for her, its headlights outlining Andrea’s body in vivid relief.

Andrea rose from her crouched position and froze, immobilized. Seconds later, a fast-moving body hit her and knocked her to the ground with bone-crunching force. Morgan had never felt such terror as she did when she saw Andrea in the sights of the speeding sedan. When all her options had disappeared, she threw herself forward, using every inch of herself to intercept Andrea before she became roadkill. Morgan went airborne. She dove toward Andrea and wrapped her arms around her waist as she made contact. The impact sent both of them out of the path of the speeding vehicle toward the relative safety of the parked cars.

As soon as Morgan’s arm hit the road, pain ripped through her wrist, steadily building in intensity until it felt like white-hot lightning. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on protecting Andrea by lying on top of her until the screech of tires faded into the night.

“Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

“I am now, thanks to you,” Andrea said shakily. “I could have been killed. You could have been killed. I can’t believe you got to me in time.”

“All in a day’s work, ma’am.” Morgan sat up to allow Andrea to stand. Her hand instinctively rose to cradle her wrist, and she just knew where she was spending the night. “Come on.”

“Are we going to the station to report it?” Andrea asked.

“No, we’re going to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Andrea looked at Morgan, concern on her features. “Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I think my wrist’s broken.” Morgan considered taking her home first, but the pain surged, sending explosions of red across the insides of her eyelids.

“Come with me. It won’t take long.”

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* * *

When they walked into the emergency room, Morgan’s hopes for a swift visit took a nosedive. There were at least a dozen people ahead of her.

“I really don’t need this,” she muttered, her eyebrows knitting together as Andrea accidentally jostled her arm. “Oh, God.” She looked up as the triage nurse approached her.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a sedative for her?” Andrea said. “Hell, even a baseball bat would work.”

The woman chuckled. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you either.”

She saw Morgan’s swollen wrist. “I’ll see if I can hurry things along for you.”

“Dear God in Heaven, shoot me now,” Morgan cried, hoping that some divine intervention would alleviate her pain and frustration.

For once, being a cop paid off. While she still had to wait longer than she wanted to, Morgan was bumped up the waiting list and jumped ahead of most of the people in the waiting room. After a trip to radiology, a series of X-rays had to be read by a

“trained and certified radiological professional” to tell her what she already knew. Her wrist was broken. Great. Just friggin’ great. Another trip, another waiting room, this time for the plaster room. A cast was put on her arm from her knuckles to her elbow, and she was given a bottle of strong painkillers.

This was going to put a whole new spin on police work for a while. She only prayed that she wouldn’t have to wrestle anyone to the ground in the meantime. The wrist attended to, Morgan flagged a taxi with her good hand in an effort to get Andrea home quickly, so she could find her own bed and suffer in silence. But once they were in the cab, Morgan learned that wasn’t going to happen.

“Driver, ignore that. Take us to—” Andrea looked at Morgan expectantly.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s your home address, Morgan?”

“Why do you want to know my address?”

“Because that’s where we’re going. You need to get to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. Give the driver your address.”

The steely-eyed look on Andrea’s face told Morgan she was going to lose this particular argument. As she was in no shape for a fight, she complied.

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Morgan stood at her front door, key in hand, anxious about Andrea seeing where she lived. She had assumed that Andrea came from a wealthy family, given what she’d said about Joel over dinner. She probably lived in a huge mansion with expensive furniture and expensive clothes. Morgan exhaled. Andrea was now stepping into her world.

“Well, you asked for this,” she murmured as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door to her life. She looked at Andrea uncertainly as they entered. How Morgan lived her life was no one’s business but her own, but somehow Andrea’s opinion mattered.

“Hmm. Very eclectic,” Andrea said, smiling.

“Is that like saying ‘you live in a dump,’ with a smile on your face?”

“Not at all. It’s very you. A lot of antique pieces, I see.”

“I learned a long time ago never to buy anything new while living here. It doesn’t take long before it’s damaged or stolen. So, for now, I make do with ‘antique’ pieces, as you call them. But it sounds a lot nicer than saying ‘crap furniture.’” Morgan could barely keep up with the conversation. The pain in her wrist was seriously pissing her off, and all she wanted to do was to be left alone. Her eyes must have glazed over at some point, because Andrea was looking at her intently. “What?” she asked, knowing she sounded cranky.

“Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“You don’t need to do that. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“No, you’re not. You can barely stand up.”

“I’m not a child, Counselor.”

“Then stop acting like one, Sergeant.” Andrea moved closer.

“Now stop all this shilly-shallying, and let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Andrea’s hand rose to her shirt, and Morgan slapped it away. “I don’t need your help.”

“You are the most stubborn—”

“I can be when the need calls for it, and it calls for it now.”

“Then at least take your pain medication.”

“I don’t need the medication. My wrist is hardly bothering me. See?” Morgan moved her arm around to illustrate her point, but it turned out to be a bad idea, sending splashes of white across her vision.

“You’re not fooling anyone. That little show cost you, and you know it. So stop trying to be some macho cop here, all right?”

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“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Morgan was like a bear with a sore paw.

“Because you need help, and you just won’t admit it.” Andrea moved into Morgan’s personal space. “Why is it so important to be tough all the time, huh? Scared you’ll tarnish your reputation?”

“I don’t have a reputation.”

“Of course you do. You think I don’t know what they talk about behind your back? ‘Tough-as-nails’ O’Callaghan. Like father, like daughter. They think you’re so tough nothing will crack your veneer.”

“Bullshit.”

Andrea shrugged and sighed. “Yeah, right. You can stop with all this crap right now. I’m not going until you’ve taken your meds and you’re safely tucked into bed. In fact, I think I’ll stay the night in case you need something.”

“I draw the line at that. You’re leaving now.” Morgan made sure that Andrea understood she meant business.

“Then take your meds.”

“I will not take my meds. And you’re not giving me much choice here.”

“Choice? You want a choice?” Andrea’s voice rose in anger.

“All right. You take your meds or… or give me a kiss.”

Morgan stared at her, dumbfounded. “Sorry?” Maybe the pain was playing tricks with her hearing.

“You heard me. Your meds or a kiss.”

Before Morgan had a chance to think of the possible consequences, she pulled Andrea in with her good arm and swooped down on her unsuspecting lips. She took her time delivering the dare, enjoying the sensation of warm soft lips against her own. It had been way too long since she had shared a kiss, let alone a bed, and despite her pain she prolonged the sensation for as long as Andrea would allow it.

Andrea finally pulled back to stare at Morgan. “Why did you do that?” she whispered.

“You dared me. I never back down from a dare, Counselor. Why did you do that?”

“I thought you would rather take your meds than kiss me.”

Morgan watched as Andrea’s hand rose to her lips, the stunned look on her face confirming that although she had delivered the dare she had truly not expected Morgan to accept it.

“Now go take your meds,” Andrea whispered. 79

This time Morgan didn’t argue. She pulled the small bottle out of her pocket. Andrea took it from her, opened it, and deposited two tablets into Morgan’s palm.

“That should knock you out for a while. Go take them while I turn down your bed.”

Mechanically, Morgan went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. God, she hated swallowing tablets. They always seemed to make her gag. This time, however, the pain was distracting her so much, before she knew it she had taken them. What a day it had been, one that she didn’t want to repeat anytime soon. She leaned forward until her head touched the cupboard above the sink, and she just stood quietly. The pain slowly receded as the meds kicked in, sliding over her body like a blanket and dulling whatever they touched. Now if she could just make it to bed.

“Uh-uh, you are not sleeping standing up.”

Morgan allowed Andrea to guide her to the bedroom. The tablets had worked their magic, and she was slowly sinking into a drug-induced sleep. She was barely aware that Andrea helped her down onto the mattress and tucked her in.

“Good night, Morgan, and thank you for saving me,” Andrea said softly.

“Good…” Morgan’s senses left her, and she slipped into a dream world.

“Why did you kiss me?” Andrea’s question swirled around in her subconscious.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Really? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

What sort of conversation was this? Why was Andrea asking such questions? “Tell you? I couldn’t tell you. Now get some sleep, Andrea.”

“You’re not going to tuck me in?” Andrea spread herself out on the cool sheet, looking up seductively.

Morgan couldn’t recall when their positions had changed. Why was Andrea in her underwear on her bed? Before things got out of hand, she backed away. “Oh, no.” But that didn’t stop her gazing at Andrea’s nearly unclad body. This was hell, she was sure of it. Her own little personal hell.

As much as she had sworn to herself to leave her alone, Morgan’s gaze greedily skimmed over Andrea’s soft skin as if her hands were gliding over her. This would be her only chance, and

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while she wouldn’t touch, she would most certainly look. After all, she was being strong-willed, not stupid.

Andrea Worthington was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen—not that she had seen many women in their underwear—but this woman made her blood boil. Morgan let her gaze slowly roam over the expanse of flesh undulating on the sheet, visually caressing every hill and valley. Where black lace blocked her view, Morgan mentally stripped it off.

A low moan escaped her, and she was unable to hold her obsession at bay any longer. She had to get out of here. Morgan reached for the blanket to tuck Andrea in, but Andrea grabbed a handful of Morgan’s shirt and pulled. “Come here.”

Morgan sensed the danger a moment before her bad arm hit the mattress. She rolled onto her back to protect herself, but not before Andrea had climbed on top of her.

“That’s better.”

“Andrea, get off me.” Morgan was really not in the mood for this. Her wrist was still aching, even though the painkiller was taking the edge off nicely, and she was not about to do something that, in the light of day, was going to seriously affect their relationship.

“It’s going to cost you,” Andrea said in a sultry drawl.

“Cost me?” This didn’t sound good.

“A kiss.”

Morgan shifted, trying to dislodge her, but to no avail.

“Now it’s going to cost you two.”

“Don’t do this, Andrea. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Morgan really wished for her second hand right now so she could end this game, but she was stuck trying to fend Andrea off with the proverbial one hand tied behind her back.

Before Morgan could protest, Andrea lowered herself so that their bodies touched, separated only by Morgan’s shirt and pants. Morgan tried to hold her off, but Andrea leaned closer, hesitating before their first contact. Morgan groaned. Why was she fighting this? She so desperately wanted to taste those lips, but at what cost?

“Okay, if I let you kiss me, will you go the hell to sleep?”

“Two kisses. That was the deal. Two kisses. Now hold still. This won’t hurt at all.”

The first contact was electric, and sensual sparks seemed to spring between them. “That’s one,” Morgan whispered. Andrea swallowed hard. “Then I’d better make the second one count.”

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Passion replaced the surprise of the first kiss, and Andrea quickly sought and gained access to Morgan’s mouth. They touched, teased, consumed, and caressed, neither willing to break contact because it would mean the end of the wager. Morgan was slipping out of control, wanting so desperately to take what was being offered to her. Not in her wildest dreams had she expected to find Andrea so warm, so enticing. So willing. No. She had to stop this now. Morgan broke the kiss. “That’s two,” she murmured.

“One more. Please, just one more…”

Morgan woke with a start, her body trembling. The dream had left her seriously shaken. Some of it was probably induced by the painkillers, and some of it was wishful thinking on her part, but it was a dream that would never come true. It would remain just that. A dream.

There was a loud banging, and it took a moment or two for Morgan to realize that someone was knocking at her door. Andrea had said something about staying the night, so she remained where she was. The knocking continued, but the door didn’t open.

“Andrea?”

There was no answer. Morgan rose carefully to investigate. Her head was swimming and her wrist was throbbing, mixing together into a potent cocktail of light-headedness, nausea, pain, and vertigo. Morgan stumbled out of her bedroom toward the front door, swaying to and fro like a drunken sailor. She slumped against the wall and allowed herself a moment for her vision to stop shifting before looking through the peephole.

With some effort she opened the door. “I thought you said you were staying.” Not that she would admit to wanting Andrea in her apartment.

“You were sleeping peacefully, so I went back to my apartment to get some things.”

“You went out there alone? That was—”

“Stupid, I know. But I needed some clothes for work.”

“They couldn’t wait until morning?” Morgan’s voice had risen, and she was left with a dull ache in her head. Her good hand rose to her brow and held on, waiting for her brain to stop sloshing around inside her head. Not that it would actually do that, but that’s what it felt like.

“Back to bed with you.”

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“I’ve got to pee first.” Morgan staggered to the bathroom, leaving Andrea to close the door.

Andrea put her suitcase down and headed toward the bedroom, where she leaned against the door jamb to wait for Morgan’s return.

“Did you sleep okay?” she called.

“I don’t know.” The toilet flushed and the door opened. “I was asleep.”

“You must be okay. You’re making jokes.”

“I am?” Morgan moved to the bed by instinct. Her eyes were barely open as she wobbled the few feet from the bathroom.

“‘Night.”

“Good night. See you in the morning.”

Morgan heard Andrea leave and close the door but she didn’t immediately drift off to sleep. Despite her best intentions to be rid of her dream, it remained, tempting her. But she just couldn’t argue with herself. Drowsiness swept over her like a tidal wave and swallowed her whole. It was going to have to wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Blackness gave way to gray, except for the pulsing red wash that beat in time with her heart. The pain in Morgan’s wrist was a sharp, angry throbbing. The painkillers had worn off, and she was going to have to take those damned pills she had hoped to avoid. Instead, she had wanted to find that fine line between tolerable pain and unconsciousness.

Slowly she opened her eyes as night became day and dark became light. She was seriously in danger of blowing a gasket. She looked down at her cast and felt a tightness constricting the limb. It was nasty. This was not good, not good at all. She was worse than useless. She was an invalid.

She sat up in bed and swung her legs over the edge. She sat there for a moment waiting for the throbbing to subside. As time went on, she realized that it wasn’t going to happen soon. The ache would be there for a few days to come. Morgan sighed. What a mess. Not that she regretted what she did. Andrea would have been another road statistic if she hadn’t acted quickly. No, she was rather proud of her act of heroism, but it was this painful reminder of how she did it that was going to get annoying real quick. The apartment was quiet, and Morgan assumed that Andrea was out on the couch sleeping off her late night. She rose and made 83

her way to the bathroom, opening the door without much thought. Standing there was Andrea—butt-naked.

“Oh! Sorry.” Morgan’s gaze dropped to the floor, but not before she got a good long look at her. “Oh, God.”

There was a rustle and a flick of towel in her peripheral vision so Andrea must have been trying to cover up.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…” Morgan backed out quickly and pulled the door closed.

“Give me a minute,” Andrea called through the door.

“No hurry,” Morgan called back. Actually, her bladder felt like it was about to burst. Luckily, Andrea didn’t take long and the door swung open a minute later.

“I’m…” Andrea said.

“Sorry, hold that thought.” Morgan rushed by her and closed the door. She sat there and let her body take care of itself while her mind tried to put the scattered images together. She had seen Andrea naked and now it was burned into her memory. But that wasn’t the difficult part for her. She had to walk out of the bathroom and face her. What was she going to say?

Beyond that, while the painkillers had done their work during the night and allowed her some sleep, her wrist was one big ache and it was wearing on her. How was she going to concentrate on work? By the afternoon, she would be ready to climb the wall.

“Are you ever coming out?”

Morgan didn’t think she’d been in the bathroom that long, but if Andrea had to ask, then maybe she had. She splashed some water on her face in an effort to wake up and patted herself dry. She had run out of valid reasons to stay where she was, which only left her one option—to open the door and face her embarrassment.

“I was about to come in and rescue you,” Andrea said sweetly.

“Things took a little longer than I expected.” That was true, but it wasn’t the reason she was avoiding the contact.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Is the Pope a Catholic?”

“I figured as much. There’s one waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Morgan studied Andrea’s back as she moved away. Her damp hair sat on the dressing gown wrapped around her body. But Morgan now knew what that body looked like without clothes, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it. “Thanks.”

She walked into the kitchen to find Andrea fussing around.

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“Sit. I couldn’t find much for breakfast but here’s some toast.”

Andrea put down a plate of food and sat across from Morgan who was loading her coffee with sugar.

“I’m sorry I walked in on you. I didn’t know you were there.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were asleep, so I thought I’d grab a shower.”

“I should have checked first.”

“Well…”

“I suppose I’ve lived alone for too long.”

“And of course the pain and the meds didn’t help,” Andrea said.

“Exactly.”

“So you’re pleading the Fifth?”

“Exactly.” Morgan smiled.

“Look, in case you didn’t hear me last night, I wanted to say thanks for saving my neck.”

“That’s my job, Counselor.”

“Above and beyond your duty, Sergeant.” But they both knew better. “I’m sorry you got hurt though. I don’t know how I can make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to make up anything.”

“Do you want me to contact the captain and tell him you won’t be in?”

“Of course I’ll be in. Whatever gave you the idea that I wouldn’t?”

“But your wrist—”

“Is broken, not missing. I have an important day today, and this isn’t going to stop me.”

“Don’t you ever take care of yourself?”

“I’m doing that right now.” Morgan reached for a piece of toast and took a healthy bite.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Andrea leaned forward and her eyes narrowed. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

“That’s me,” Morgan replied as she grinned.

“God, you infuriate me.” Andrea took a gulp of coffee and nearly choked on it. She coughed for a moment before gaining her breath. “Do you always walk around with that pole up your ass?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You react to everything, Morgan. No wonder Morelli annoys you so much. Maybe you should work on becoming a ‘Teflon’

detective.”

“Huh?”

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“Everything just slides right off.”

“I’m a detective sergeant, Counselor. It’s my job to have that stick up my ass so the likes of Morelli don’t walk all over me.”

“Eat your breakfast,” Andrea mumbled.

There was an uneasy silence for a moment before Morgan spoke. “I have to go. I have no choice.”

“Where are your pills?”

“On the bedside table, I think.”

Andrea disappeared for a moment and returned with the bottle. She read the prescription. “Take two tablets every six hours. What do you want to do?”

“I have to go to work. There’s too much going on.”

“Okay, this is what we’ll do. Finish the toast, because if you take these on an empty stomach, you won’t be going anywhere. And start with one tablet. It might be enough to render the pain tolerable without making you pass out. You can take two when you get home and two at night before bed.”

“I can live with that.”

“Fine. While you finish here, I’ll go and get dressed then I’ll give you a hand to get ready for work.” Andrea stood and left the kitchen.

Morgan tried not to stare at Andrea’s ass as she walked away, but she couldn’t help herself. This was another complication in a long line of complications that she wasn’t ready to face yet. Sighing deeply, she turned her attention back to the cold toast sitting in front of her and contemplated the day to come.

Chapter 7

Morgan and Andrea arrived at work and went their separate ways in the hallway. So far the morning had been exhausting and emotional, and Morgan’s patience was sorely tested. She’d found it frustrating to sit on the edge of the bed while Andrea dressed her like a two-year-old. But that was nothing compared to the embarrassment of Andrea securing her bra for her. The brush of Andrea’s fingers on her bare skin had been sheer torture. The final straw had to be the sling. She looked like such a loser with the damned thing covering half her chest.

“Have a good day, O’Callaghan,” Andrea called out.

“You, too, Counselor.”

“You know where to find me if you need any help.”

“Will do.” But Morgan would have to be flat on her back before she’d do that. She walked into the squad room and found The Three Musketeers gathered around the coffeemaker. Andrea’s earlier comment about Teflon came to mind, and she laughed. The Teflon Musketeers seemed rather apt. After all, nothing bad ever stuck to them.

“Jesus, O’Callaghan!” Morelli exclaimed. “What the hell happened to you?”

Morgan looked up and saw she was being watched. She must have had a moment of hesitation to draw the intent stares of the Musketeers. “I thought I’d give being handicapped a go. Then again, I’ve got you.”

“Crossing the road is dangerous. You should have kept a lookout.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “And how do you know? What did you do, Morelli?”

“How’s the counselor?” he asked cryptically.

“She’s fine. You listen to me, you piece of shit. If you had anything to do with this—”

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“Hey, hang on. I had nothing to do with whatever happened to you. Fredericks and Lowenstein here can vouch for me.”

“I’m sure they can. But that doesn’t answer my question. How did you know how I got hurt?”

“Common sense, Sergeant, so don’t go accusing me of stuff you know nothing about. I wouldn’t do something as dumb as that. I’d lose my pension.”

“Yeah, I can see you’re concerned about my welfare.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your welfare, O’Callaghan, but I ain’t stupid.” Morelli smiled smugly.

But Morgan wasn’t convinced. She was going to have to watch her back now. “Playing games with me is not a smart move, Morelli.”

“No, not a smart move at all. Sergeant, in my office now,”

Markham said.

Morgan walked past the captain and dutifully marched into his office. As soon as he shut the door, he cornered her.

“You going to tell me what happened, or are we going to play Twenty Questions?”

“I had an accident.”

“Stop screwing around. What the hell happened?”

“There was an incident.”

“An incident?”

Morgan heard the door behind her open quietly, and she realized Andrea had come in.

“She saved my life, Captain. I was nearly a victim of a hit-andrun.”

“Somebody tried to run you down?” He looked from Andrea back to Morgan.

“Yes. Someone in a big car tried to run me over last night.”

“This was an accident?” Markham glared first at Morgan, then at Andrea.

“I think so—” Andrea started to say, but Morgan interrupted.

“I don’t know, Captain. The car had plenty of time to stop but didn’t. It was almost as though it was purposely heading directly for her.”

Markham looked at Andrea. “Someone tried to kill you?”

“Detective O’Callaghan seems to think so.” While Andrea’s outward demeanor was poised and professional, Morgan knew the realization that someone wanted to hurt her had been a rude awakening.

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He turned to Morgan. “So? Give me the report I’m supposed to be reading on this.”

She grimaced. “I’ve sort of had my hands full, Captain.”

“All this happened last night, there’s no report, and I’m just hearing about it now? You wasted all this time when we could have been looking for this guy?”

“It was an attempted hit-and-run,” Morgan said patiently. “I barely got there in time to get her out of the way. There was no point in reporting it until today. I got nothing. No plate, no make, no model. It was dark and I was kind of busy.”

“So you two were out together after dark?”

“Look, nothing’s up.” Morgan made the statement with conviction. “We had dinner and I was escorting her home when this car came out of nowhere and headed right for her.”

“How do you know it was deliberate?”

“He sped up to get to her. I heard the acceleration and barely made it in time. I broke my wrist hitting the road.”

He exhaled. “Any other injuries?”

“A little black and blue, but otherwise no. We were pretty lucky.”

“Lucky? Sergeant, you have a broken arm, and you consider it lucky?”

“Fractured wrist. And it could have been worse. A lot worse, but it wasn’t.” She glanced at Andrea, knowing the captain was watching.

“Go home then.”

“Sir, a fractured wrist isn’t going to stop me from working. I’m fine for duty. But where’s Henry? Sir.” Morgan smiled at him, thinking her dimples would work their magic.

“He’s reinterviewing the delivery boy, something you were supposed to be here for, Sergeant.” His stern demeanor told her he knew her better than that, dimples or no dimples.

“Sorry. I should have called in.”

“Yes, you should have. Next time, do so. But since I know why, I won’t be yelling at you. Fill out the insurance form, and have it on my desk for signature before day’s end. Of course, I expect to see a report on the matter much sooner. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“That was a brave thing you did, Sergeant. Foolish, but brave.”

“Just doing my job.”

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“I hope I’m not going to get less-than-informative smart-ass remarks out of you, too, Counselor.” Markham looked at Andrea as he made the statement, passing a cursory glance at Morgan.

“I will certainly endeavor to answer your questions to the best of my ability, Captain.”

“Is there something you wish to tell me about all of this?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Not really anything else to add. Everything happened just as Sergeant O’Callaghan said.”

“And dinner last night?”

“We finished my errands, and the streets were packed with commuters. I suggested we get some dinner to pass the time until rush hour was over. We are, after all, colleagues. Sergeant O’Callaghan was just seeing me home safely. I was crossing the street when my shopping bag broke and everything spilled out onto the road. As I was picking it up, this car came out of nowhere. If it wasn’t for her quick thinking, I’d be in the hospital, or dead, God forbid.”

“Then what happened?”

“She dragged me to the hospital and got herself taken care of. We went back to her place. I stayed there until this morning to help her get ready for work, and here we are.”

Markham nodded. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Not at the moment. We have to decide how she’ll manage for the next few days.”

“We? You’ve suddenly become O’Callaghan’s nurse?”

Markham looked at Andrea then at Morgan.

“She saved my life, Captain. I can’t abandon her to struggle on her own.” Andrea looked sideways at Morgan.

“You’re both asking for trouble. You know that, don’t you? People are going to talk, especially the likes of Morelli. This isn’t going to help your prospects for a promotion, Sergeant.”

“How are they going to find out, if we don’t want them to know?” Andrea asked.

“Morelli’s good at reading people, Counselor. He can smell a cover-up a mile away.”

“Then I’ll just have to be careful. But you’re talking as though we’d slept together. That’s as far from the truth as you can get, Captain. I’m sure Detective Chang will help keep it quiet.”

“Fine, but be careful. Your actions could give the impression that there’s something going on between you two, and no amount of denial is going to change that. Just watch how you act at work. If

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you want to help each other, you’re going to have to steer clear in the office.”

“I understand the position Morgan’s in, Captain, I do,” Andrea said, “but does that mean I have to abandon her to struggle on her own while she’s injured? I’m her friend, and surely friends can help each other out when they’re in trouble. She’s gone out of her way to befriend me.”

Markham smiled wryly.

“Okay,” Andrea said. “So we weren’t on the best of terms when we first met, but since then she’s been an enormous help to me. If having dinner with a friend is against the law, then I’m guilty as well.” With that final statement, Andrea left. Markham looked at Morgan and chuckled. “It looks like you have your hands full there, O’Callaghan. Now get out of here and go make nice with that partner of yours.”

* * *

Morgan sat down at her desk and buried her head in her one good arm. Her life was a mess and getting worse by the minute. Two days ago she had a life, a career, and two working hands. And now? She was going to be chewing pain meds like M&Ms for the next few days, and she just knew Andrea was going to stick her nose into her private life. “Oh, God,” she cried into her arm as she suddenly remembered the bane of her life. Typing reports onehanded was going to be a nightmare. Either God was sitting up there laughing her ass off at her, or Satan had finally caught up with her and was making her pay for everything she’d done wrong. She grabbed her mug and headed for the coffeemaker, looking for her second fix of the day.

“Jesus, Morgan, look at you.” Henry’s stunned expression said it all.

“A sight to behold, I’m sure.”

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I would have called, you know that, but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time.”

“Was it that bad?”

“It hurt like hell. Still does. After getting out of the hospital, my head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. I suppose that was the pain meds. I should have called, partner. I’m sorry.”

“You going to tell me what happened?”

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She did, at least the part pertaining to the hit-and-run. Morgan didn’t need to look at Henry to know what he was thinking. She and Andrea were out together last night, and as far as he was concerned, that meant only one thing. Damn him.

“I want you to do something for me,” she said when she’d finished her story.

“Anything. You know that.”

“I want you to teach Andrea some self-defense moves. Soon. Nothing fancy, just the basics. The most effective ones.”

His eyes narrowed. “Was it that serious?”

“Serious enough.” For the first time in a long time, she was lost for a solution to a problem. She studied her arm, not wanting to meet her partner’s eyes. “I think Morelli’s involved somehow, but I don’t know what to do here.” Her shoulders dropped. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Morelli? What’s Morelli got to do with this?”

“I’ve no idea, but he seemed to know how I broke my arm and asked rather pointedly how the counselor was.”

“I thought he had more brains than that.”

“Who knows what goes on in that mind of his?” Morgan glanced over her shoulder at Morelli’s desk. As expected it was empty, but she didn’t have to look far to find where he was. Six feet left from where he should have been, he was sitting on Lowenstein’s desk talking. There was a burst of laughter as she watched, and she suspected that whatever was said was about her.

“Whether it’s him or not, I think we need to take precautions. I asked her to bring in some gym clothes, so you two can go at it. I’ll have to go shopping for some things to wear while I have this.” She looked down at the sling, cursing her bad luck. “C’mon, let’s get to work. I have a pile of reports on the Vaughan case, and I might as well work through those.”

Morgan sifted through the stack of paper. “Hey, Morelli, where are the bank statements on Connie Vaughan?”

“They’re for the captain, not you,” he mumbled. That’s it! She stood up and strode over to Lowenstein’s desk, where Morelli was still sitting. “Did you say something, Detective?”

“I said they’re for the captain.” His anger spread red across his face.

“That sounds a bit like insubordination, Detective.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not working for no dyke.”

“Get a life, Morelli. Two women go out shopping, and all of a friggin’ sudden they’re dykes? God, you are a piece of work. I

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wonder what people are saying about the three of you, huh? Three guys. Always together, at work and during their off-time. Yeah. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”

“Soon you’re not going to have a job and nothing to worry about no more—”

She strode the few steps to the desk, grabbed Morelli’s shirt, and shoved him against the wall. Pinning him in place with her good arm, she said, “Don’t you try that game with me, you sorry piece of shit.”

The room went quiet as everyone waited to see what would happen next. Morgan sensed all eyes on her and heard a door open. She just knew the captain was watching, but she couldn’t back down. Her authority was in question, and she didn’t take that from anybody.

“Two can play that game, Morelli. If you so much as look at me wrong, I’m going to make your life a miserable, living hell. You got me?”

“You don’t scare me.” But the fear in his eyes said it all. She scared the hell out of him, and rightly so.

“No? Well, you should be scared. You have no idea what I’m capable of. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you like me or not, but you will respect the job. I earned this and I expect you to toe the line, just like everyone else.”

“Go to hell.”

Morgan released him, and he slid down the wall to the floor.

“I’m in the neighborhood now,” she muttered as she turned away. She rummaged through the mess on Morelli’s desk until she found the papers she wanted. She looked around at the group watching her and spotted the two people standing at the door. While Andrea said nothing, she was smiling. Time would tell whether it was effective or not, but Morgan had made her stand and now everybody knew she would no longer take their shit.

Morgan’s gaze slipped over Andrea’s shoulder to her boss. She waited for the call to his office. Instead, he turned and left without a word. She sat down in her chair with a thump, eyeing Morelli with unveiled animosity.

She turned her focus to the bank reports, and as she read, she let out a little exclamation of surprise.

“What?” Henry plopped himself down in the chair opposite her. She handed him the page and watched his reaction.

“Whoa.”

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“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It sort of makes Connie Vaughan look a little suspicious, don’t you think? I’ll check through these other financial reports first, but I think we need to have another little chat with her.”

Slowly and systematically, Morgan read through the reports, handing them over to Henry one page at a time for him to read also. The phone rang and she lifted the receiver. “Fifth Precinct, Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan.”

“Last night was a warning.” The voice was deep, masculine, and menacing. “Quit the Vaughan case.” The click on the line indicated the conversation had ended, leaving her staring at the receiver.

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked.

“I think the case has just taken off in a whole new direction. It seems that the hit-and-run was for my benefit, not the counselor’s.”

“Huh?”

“Someone’s interested in making sure I quit the case.”

“Vaughan didn’t strike me as the sort of man who would resort to violence.”

“Me neither. If Vaughan’s behind this, it’s a bit idiotic.”

“Last night wasn’t idiotic.”

“No,” she said grimly.

“Does that mean Morelli’s clean?”

“Morelli’s never clean, Henry, but this does cast doubt on his involvement in the hit-and-run incident.”

“So what happens now?”

“I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

* * *

Morgan and Henry spent the morning collating evidence. Markham approached them as they were elbow-deep in paper. “I just had a call from the DA’s Office,” he said. “Worthington is to be included in all interviews from now on.”

“When is she due back from court?” Morgan asked.

“After lunch, then her schedule’s clear for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Good, because I want to bring the Vaughans in for further questioning. It seems there are some anomalies in recent banking transaction activities.” Morgan handed over the bank statements for her boss to peruse, watching as his dark eyebrows rose.

“Yeah, but it seems too obvious, don’t you think?” he asked.

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“I’ve seen much clumsier things done.” Morgan still had a feeling that something wasn’t right. “We’ll see what the wife has to say for herself. Two o’clock okay for you, sir?”

He gave her a questioning look.

“I’m assuming you’ll want to be there for the performance.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Markham handed her the bank statements and returned to his office.

Morgan reached for the phone and made the arrangements before going back to her reports and trying to build a case. The pain slowly resurfaced, forcing her to reach for her pills. She struggled to remove the cap and found it unceremoniously taken out of her hand.

“Hey!” She looked up to see who would risk their life to take something away from her and found herself face-to-face with Andrea.

“Give them here.” Andrea unscrewed the cap, took out a pill, and placed it on Morgan’s desk. She re-screwed the cap and handed the bottle back, then delivered one of the hot cups of coffee she had set on the desk behind her. “That should help it go down.”

“I got word you’re in on the case.”

“Yep. I thought I’d come and see you to get up to speed.”

“Take a seat.” As Andrea did so, Morgan mumbled, “Checking up on me?”

“Maybe. I know how well you look after yourself. Or not.”

Andrea made herself comfortable in the visitor’s chair, taking a sip from her own coffee. “Okay, shoot.”

“That’s not a word to be bandied around in this profession, Counselor.”

“Just get on with it, Sergeant.”

“Okay, Arthur Vaughan is CEO of a brokerage firm and comes from a long line of Wall Street money. A delivery boy was bringing the groceries to his home and found Vaughan on the kitchen floor slumped against a kitchen cupboard with a gun in his hand and Rose McManus, his maid, lying next to him shot dead. Medical examiner’s report confirmed single shot to the heart was the cause of death. Ballistics confirmed the gun in Vaughan’s hand was the murder weapon. And Vaughan has claimed that Rose McManus was his illegitimate daughter.”

“So, it’s a slam dunk.”

Morgan hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

“But he was found with the murder weapon in his hand beside the deceased. How much easier can it get? What about fingerprints?”

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“Only Vaughan’s on the gun.”

“There you go,” Andrea said.

“I don’t think he did it.”

“Don’t think… How do you know?”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

“A jury doesn’t like a gut instinct. Besides messing up my courtroom, they prefer cold hard facts. Do you have any evidence to back that up?”

“The glass of water on his bedside table was spiked. Forensics hasn’t been able to come up with anything. They know it’s a drug. They just can’t give it a name yet.”

“That’s it?”

“No, his wife’s monthly bank statements show amounts of money coming and going every month. From what I can see, it seems to be apart from a regular amount, which I’m assuming is her monthly allowance from Vaughan. I need to check that with him at his interview. The amounts in question go into and are transferred out of the account on the same day, and nothing’s above fifty thousand dollars. Where does that money go?”

“When are the interviews to take place?”

“This afternoon in Interview Room One.”

Andrea stood, preparing to leave. “Thank you, Sergeant. Until this afternoon.”

Morgan watched Andrea walk away, taking in the crisp suit she wore and the air of professionalism that surrounded her like a perfume. She was glad she was on this side of the law because facing Andrea in court, she suspected, would be like dipping her toe into a tank of sharks. She’d be missing body parts in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Andrea approached Morgan’s desk just before lunch, gym bag in hand, secretly eager to begin Henry’s lessons. She had never really felt the need to learn self defense, but had to admit the idea was intriguing. It was one more step along the road to her independence.

She sat in the chair waiting for Henry. Morgan had already disappeared, and Andrea wondered for the thousandth time what had possessed her to dare Morgan to kiss her last night. Was she crazy? Did she honestly believe that Morgan wouldn’t do it? She

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wasn’t really sure why the idea popped into her head, let alone why she said it aloud.

By the little tidbits of information and innuendo flying around, she suspected Morgan might be gay, which would explain why Morgan had no qualms about kissing her. But what did she feel? Shock? Well, that went without saying. Excitement? Andrea had never kissed a woman before. Not that way and not someone who wasn’t a relative. She was trying to make sense of what she felt. Maybe it was just curiosity that sent the words flying out of her mouth. Still, it was exciting and a little bit naughty. Then why couldn’t she just forget about it? What she really needed was someone to talk to who had no vested interest in the outcome. Henry’s voice interrupted Andrea’s thoughts. “Do you have your gym clothes with you?”

“Yep.”

“Come on then. Let’s get you started.” Side by side they left the station house, heading down the street to the gym.

“So, where’s your partner?”

“She had a couple of errands to run. ‘Girl stuff,’ she told me. I didn’t even know she knew what girl stuff was.”

Andrea laughed. Henry was a sweet, adorable man who was looking after Morgan’s best interests. No wonder he could get around his boss without getting hit. “And what do you think girl stuff is?”

“I probably don’t want to know, Counselor.” Henry looked up at the cloudless sky above them. “In this heat, I wouldn’t want to be trying on any new jocks, believe me.”

Andrea’s thoughts went back to before work. Morgan was decidedly uncomfortable when it came to fastening her bra. She knew it galled Morgan to have to ask for help, and with something so personal as underwear, she was practically grinding her teeth. Andrea tried to imagine her shopping for a new bra. What a sight that would be.

* * *

Morgan had never seen so much underwear in her life. She was suddenly thankful she had stopped at the ATM. Underwear wasn’t normally high on her list of priorities, since she was more inclined to go for comfort rather than fashion, but her inability to use one hand for a while was going to require something special.

“May I help you?”

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Morgan pointedly looked at her sling. “I’m going to need a bra with no clasps.”

The saleswoman studied her, finally taking in the plaster cast.

“Follow me.”

Morgan mentally rolled her eyes. The people at Wal-Mart never gave her the once-over when she went on her annual pilgrimage for clothes.

“Let’s start here,” the saleswoman said, fingering through the rack for the appropriate bras. “What size are you?”

“34B.” Now she knew why she shopped at Wal-Mart. The boutique shops wanted to know everything.

“How about we start with these?” The saleswoman smiled at her warmly and steered her toward a changing room.

“Can I have a look?” Morgan held up the bra to study it closer. Getting the thing on was going to be tricky, possibly even trickier than trying to put on a normal bra one-handed. The sports bra was heavily elasticized and was going to test her patience and her strength getting it on her body. For a moment she considered going without one altogether, but decided that was probably not only pushing the boundaries of social acceptance, but her embarrassment level could skyrocket.

This left her with one other option, and it wasn’t up for discussion. Asking Andrea to regularly do up her bra was just not possible. Being so close to her every single day, putting temptation in her path on a regular basis, was way too dangerous. Besides, Morgan was capable of looking after herself. A broken wrist, after all, wasn’t going to stop her from living. She found herself in a tiny booth facing herself in the mirror. She looked terrible. The sling was a neon sign pointing out her disability. Her injury was bad enough without having it advertised to the world.

“And does madam need some help?” The saleswoman made a move toward Morgan.

“No. No, thanks. I’ll have to manage sooner or later.” There was no way in hell she was letting that woman near her body. She started to remove her shirt and looked up to see the smiling saleswoman’s reflection in the mirror. Unceremoniously, she turned around and pulled the curtain closed, wondering if any gay women ever worked in such shops just to satisfy their voyeuristic tendencies. She knew she herself would never stoop so low, but she realized in this world it took all kinds.

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About halfway through trying to get it on, Morgan realized it wasn’t going to work. She had gotten the elasticized material down to her shoulders and that was as far as it would go with one hand. The band slowly tightened as her strength gave way, leaving her with no choice but to ask for help. “Excuse me? I could use a hand here.”

Morgan closed her eyes, too embarrassed to watch the saleswoman’s expression as the curtain slid open.

“My, my, we are in a bit of a tangle.”

Morgan searched for any hint of derision in the woman’s voice but found none. It took a few seconds for the constriction to be removed, leaving her standing naked from the waist up. After all her efforts to avoid ending up in this state, here she was.

“I think a hook at the front might be the way to go.” The woman disappeared.

“I think you’re right,” Morgan muttered, looking in the mirror. Next time Andrea could rescue herself.

While the next bra was less than ideal, it was a far sight better than the elasticized one. It was going to take some deft work from her hand, but she figured with practice it would steadily become easier as time went on. She purchased two bras from the eversmiling saleswoman and left the shop happier now that the ordeal was over. One down, one to go.

She finally finished her shopping. Luckily the loafers she chose were a little easier, and a lot less embarrassing, to buy. Before long, she was on her way to the gym to see how Andrea was doing. Morgan saw Andrea and Henry in a quiet area on the matted floor. Apparently Henry was explaining something, right before putting the lesson into action. Morgan stood in the shadows, content for the moment to watch them from afar.

Andrea was dressed in tank top and shorts. What a sight. That hot pink leotard would have been a distinct improvement, but somehow to Morgan she was just as cute in the shirt and shorts. Morgan’s gaze was drawn to her muscular legs every time she moved.

Morgan’s hand cradled her throbbing wrist in comfort as she watched them circle one another. Andrea was practicing her newlylearned moves on the slightly taller Henry who, from time to time, allowed her to land a hit. It had taken Morgan years to be able to fight effectively, and here they were, unrealistically hoping to enable Andrea to fight off an attacker in a matter of a day or two. 99

But maybe a little pugilistic confidence for Andrea would be a good thing.

Morgan blushed when she realized Andrea was watching her. Andrea’s expression softened as Morgan approached, and Morgan suspected her dimples were firmly in place on her cheeks. She realized her normally tough, no-nonsense facade had slipped, and she focused on reestablishing it. Obviously, her efforts didn’t work because Andrea’s smile broadened when Morgan stopped in front of her.

“Stop it,” Morgan said teasingly. “You’re ruining my reputation.”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “What reputation?”

“Exactly. Henry, how’s our little troublemaker doing?”

“Not bad. I kept it simple, just two moves. If she can feel confident with those, she should be able to get away if she’s attacked.”

Morgan nodded approvingly. “Of course, you could always use Rule One.”

Andrea glanced at Henry than back at Morgan. “Rule One?”

“Yeah. If all else fails, you kick him in the balls and run like hell,” Morgan said soberly.

Andrea stared at her then burst into laughter. Henry cringed and edged a hand toward his crotch.

“Now hurry up, it’s nearly two and we have a couple of suspects to grill.” Morgan sent them off at a jog while she stepped outside to wait. The afternoon was going to be busy, and she was eager to get some answers.

Chapter 8

“Mr. Vaughan, we have a few more questions for you. Take a seat and we’ll get started.” Morgan waited for him and Marks to be seated before adding an afterthought. “And thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

“Sergeant, are you all right?” Vaughan’s tone held genuine concern.

“Yes. It was just an accident. Thanks for asking.” This wasn’t going to be easy. Despite everything, Morgan liked Vaughan and maybe being this close to the case was not a good idea. She glanced over at Andrea, who nodded for her to continue.

“Mr. Vaughan, Mr. Marks, this is Assistant District Attorney Andrea Worthington, who’s now handling the case.” The two men nodded toward her.

“I’d like to draw your attention to these.” Morgan placed three sheets of paper on the table between them, sliding them over for Vaughan to see. She waited patiently while he reached into his pocket and took out his glasses. He perched them on his nose, picked up the papers, and gave them a cursory glance.

“In the course of our investigation,” Morgan said, “we’ve come across something that seems curious. As you can see, these are the bank statements from the household account, your personal account, and Mrs. Vaughan’s personal account. In the last several weeks, there’ve been an unusually large number of fund transfers from your personal account and household account into Mrs. Vaughan’s personal account. Can you shed some light on this?”

“Sergeant, I’m well aware of my wife’s—” He stopped and smiled, looking for a suitable word to express his opinion.

“Predilection for spending money.”

“But in such large amounts and in that frequency, Mr. Vaughan?”

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He took another look at the bank statements, and his eyes widened for a moment. “Er… no.” His brow furrowed. “She usually only takes the odd ten thousand or so.”

Odd ten thousand? Oh, please. If I ever want to be odd, please let me be odd with ten thousand. If the mood ever struck, Morgan wouldn’t have a spare ten thousand to be odd with. “As you can see, this is more than just the odd ten thousand or so. She’s withdrawn nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars over the last couple of days alone. Were you aware of this?”

“Apparently not, Sergeant.” Marks reached across Vaughan for the pages lying there, but he was stopped by a hand slamming down on top of his. Vaughan stared angrily at him and shook his head. Morgan smiled inwardly at the interaction. Good for you, Arthur. “I would be thinking about changing my accountant if he didn’t pick up on that.”

“My accountant has instructions to let me know of transactions over fifty thousand dollars. As you can see, each transaction was under that amount. There was nothing to trigger the alarms.”

Vaughan studied Morgan. “He did nothing wrong. He was only following my instructions to the letter.”

“I’m not suggesting that he did. I was merely pointing out that the discrepancies hadn’t been picked up.” Morgan cast a quick glance at Henry, who had taken up his position in the far corner, content to be a silent observer. “But that number of transactions in that short amount of time? Shouldn’t that have drawn someone’s attention?”

“My accountant only looks over the personal books once a month. He had no reason to draw my attention to it. Also, there’s still another day or two before his review is due.”

Morgan sat forward. “Who’s aware of these arrangements?”

“My family and my personal assistant. And the accountant, of course.” He regarded her calmly.

“Someone who’s aware of how the account is monitored withdrew a million dollars in the last few weeks without you knowing it. I would say it’s time for a review of your security measures, don’t you think?” Morgan said.

“Are you accusing my accountant of some financial misdealings? I’ve known the man for ten years, and he has always—”

“Mr. Vaughan, I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m just looking at a situation that struck us as odd. This money transfer could be a separate deal altogether and not tied into our

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investigation. I was just drawing your attention to it and hoping you could shed some light on it. No one else comes to mind?”

“Not at the moment,” Vaughan said, still calm.

“Mr. Vaughan, you recently contacted your attorneys about a family matter, did you not?”

“I was going to change my will. And before you ask, I was going to make provision for Rose McManus in it.”

“Arthur!” Marks stared at him.

“Everything’s fine, Clifford.” Vaughan returned his stare.

“Was this proposed change family knowledge?” Morgan asked.

“Not that I know of. Not even Rose was aware of what I was going to do.”

“And for the record, Mr. Vaughan, why was Rose McManus being provided for?” She looked into his eyes. I’m sorry.

“Rose was my illegitimate child. I was trying to provide for her future well-being.” He smiled gently back at her. Morgan glanced at Andrea to see if she wanted to question Vaughan, but she shifted in her chair and said nothing for the moment, obviously content to let Morgan lead the questioning. Morgan turned back to Vaughan. “One final thing. Has anyone in your family been in treatment for drug or alcohol addiction?”

“Yes. A couple of years ago, my daughter was in a private rehab center in England for a drug problem. And my wife was in a facility recently for trouble with alcohol. Why?”

“Preliminary lab results indicate that you were drugged with Ibogaine. It was found in the glass next to your bedside and in your blood work. It’s a hallucinogen used in the treatment of drug and alcohol addiction. It took forensics a while to discover that. While the drug is being tested here in the U.S., it’s not FDA approved, but it is widely available overseas.”

“Drugged? What? Are you suggesting that someone in my family set me up?”

Morgan met his gaze. “It’s looking that way.”

“But why?”

Morgan saw the lost look on his face. Obviously, the idea of someone close to him going to such lengths to bring him down had never occurred to him.

“Money can be a big motivator, Mr. Vaughan,” she said quietly. “You did say you were going to change your will.”

“But no one knew that.”

“Maybe they overheard you speaking with your lawyer and decided they couldn’t risk you keeping that appointment.” She 103

paused for a moment, waiting to have his attention again. “Mr. Vaughan, at the present time we won’t be arresting you. Evidence leads us to think you might not have been responsible for the death of Rose McManus.”

He looked at her, relieved. “How so?”

“As I was saying earlier, you were drugged.” There also was no gun residue on either his hands or his pajamas, but this was not information Morgan was ready to reveal at the moment. The autopsy report for Rose McManus had shown traces of chloroform and slight bruising around her neck, suggesting that she had been subdued prior to the shooting.

“That, among other things, leads us to believe that someone went through a lot of trouble to make it appear you shot and killed Rose McManus.”

He looked at her, for a moment, stunned. “My God.” He shook his head, bewildered. “Do you need me for anything else, Sergeant?”

“No, Mr. Vaughan. That should be all for now. Detective Chang, could you escort Mrs. Vaughan in please?” Morgan escorted Arthur out while Marks and Andrea stayed behind for Mrs. Vaughan’s interview. She guided him to a chair in the corridor and instructed a uniformed officer to get him a cup of coffee to calm his rattled nerves. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

“No. I feel like I’ve been stabbed through the soul,” he said in a raspy voice.

This Morgan understood firsthand, the loss of innocence from being betrayed by someone you trusted completely. She made a move to go back to the interview room, but he stopped her. “Will you come to see me when this is all over?”

“That might not be a good idea.”

“Please. Just to talk.”

“All right,” she said, against her better judgment. “When it’s all over.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled at him then detoured to the room on the other side of the one-way mirror before returning to face the wife. “Captain, can we get someone to recheck the wife’s financial statements? See if we can pick up some kind of trail on where that money went.” She suspected the money was long gone. He nodded.

“Thanks. I’d better not keep Mrs. Vaughan waiting.” Morgan grimaced and returned to the interrogation room. She focused her

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attention on Connie Vaughan and Marks, who was seated beside her. On the other side of the table sat Andrea, several papers spread out in front of her, and Henry stood in the corner, a silent sentinel to the proceedings. All eyes turned to Morgan as she approached the table.

“Mrs. Vaughan, good to see you again. This is Assistant District Attorney Andrea Worthington, who will be handling the case from now on,” Morgan said by way of introduction. Connie Vaughan gave a cursory nod to Andrea, who sat opposite her at the interview table. Morgan leaned on the chair in front of her with her one good hand.

“Mrs. Vaughan, as I am sure Mr. Marks has already mentioned, we’ve found some interesting transactions within your personal banking account. Would you care to enlighten us?” Morgan passed her the same papers she had shown Arthur Vaughan only minutes before.

Mrs. Vaughan studied the sheets then looked up, startled. “I didn’t authorize that.” She appeared genuinely confused, her normal air of elitism crumbling.

Marks took the opportunity to peruse the documents. Morgan glanced at him then back at Connie. “Mr. Vaughan stated that only family members were aware of the financial arrangements with the accountant concerning withdrawals. As you can see, those amounts did not exceed the limit needed to red flag an inquiry. Only family members knew of this arrangement.”

“But—”

Morgan leaned over the table, resting her good hand on the wood. “The money is in your account, Mrs. Vaughan. One million dollars was withdrawn in a matter of a few weeks. If we take a look back even further into your account, what else are we going to find?” She tapped her finger on the bank statement sitting on the table. “Here are at least one million good reasons for setting up your husband for the murder of Rose McManus.”

Connie Vaughan looked at Marks, who had sat quietly while Morgan laid out her case. She jerked her gaze back to Morgan.

“Arthur would have given me that money if I’d asked for it.”

“But you couldn’t depend on that with the change of his will, could you?”

“He was going to change his will?” Mrs. Vaughan’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, come on, now. You’re his wife.” Morgan wandered toward the mirror on the back wall before swiftly turning. “You 105

knew he was going to make some changes. You couldn’t risk losing what you thought you had.”

“Losin’ what I had? What the fuck are you talking about, lady? There’s nothin’ he wouldn’t do for me. I love my husband.” Mrs. Vaughan’s voice lifted to a tight screech, and her carefully hidden Brooklyn accent rose rapidly to the surface like oil on water.

“I’m sure you do, Mrs. Vaughan.” In an abrupt change of questioning, Morgan said, “You were recently in rehab for problems with alcohol. Is that correct?”

Mrs. Vaughan blinked for a few moments as though to regain her composure. “Yes.”

“Would you mind telling me why that’s important, Sergeant?”

Marks asked.

“It might have direct bearing on the investigation, Counselor. Tell us what happened, Mrs. Vaughan.”

“It was a private therapy group.” She clasped her hands on the table.

“Using an experimental drug?”

“Yes.”

“Ibogaine, was it not? It’s a natural hallucinogenic that has the unexpected side effect of neutralizing withdrawal symptoms of both drug and alcohol addiction. Most effective, I believe.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still taking it?”

Mrs. Vaughan glared at Morgan. “Yes. I’m currently involved in a scientific study for the medication. How is this relevant?”

“Mr. Vaughan had Ibogaine in his system. The water glass found beside his bed was loaded with it.”

Marks spoke up. “Are you accusing my client of duplicity in this? Because if you are, you better have the evidence to back it up.”

The pain in Morgan’s wrist had been growing steadily as the interview wore on, putting her patience on a knife edge. She so wanted a tablet to take the edge off, but doing so would make her look like a hypocrite. Questioning Connie Vaughan about drug addiction while she herself popped a pill? No, she would just have to wait and hope that the pain didn’t push her to say something she shouldn’t.

“Mr. Marks, Mr. Vaughan was drugged with Ibogaine, and your client here was the only one with access to it. I’d say that’s pretty good evidence.”

“Anyone could have helped themselves to Mrs. Vaughan’s medication, Sergeant.”

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“That’s true, unless of course, Mrs. Vaughan kept her medication locked up as it should have been. It is, after all, a banned substance in the United States, at least until the FDA gives it the stamp of approval.”

“This is all just speculation.”

“Indeed, Mr. Marks, but it’s rather compelling speculation.”

Morgan turned her attention to Connie Vaughan. “Do you know what I think happened, Mrs. Vaughan? You overheard your husband planning to change his will. Not willing to risk losing it all, you concocted his little exit out of the picture. You systematically siphoned off funds up to the morning of the murder. That particular morning was the cook’s shopping day, so only Rose was left in the house.

“Earlier, Mr. Vaughan woke up, drank the spiked water, and went back to bed. You let him sleep for a while, giving the Ibogaine a chance to work, and once you had Rose knocked out you woke him up again, telling him you heard noises downstairs. He was so out of it, he believed he heard it, too. You played into his hallucination, sending him down to find Rose on the floor. You followed him downstairs, and after he collapsed on the floor in shock, you took his gun, shot Rose, and placed the gun back in his hand. You waited for the delivery boy to bring the groceries and find the body, thereby giving you a witness to your husband with the gun in his hand. You went upstairs and phoned your lawyer, who just happened to arrive before the police did. How convenient.”

Mr. Marks snorted. “That’s quite a work of fiction.”

“Possibly,” Morgan said blandly. “There’s more than enough forensic evidence to make us doubt Mr. Vaughan’s participation in the murder. There is, however, a growing pile of evidence that points toward Mrs. Vaughan.”

“It’s not true.” Mrs. Vaughan turned to her lawyer. “Clifford, I didn’t do this. Help me.”

“Sergeant, either you arrest Mrs. Vaughan now or we’re walking out the door.”

“You’re free to go, Mrs. Vaughan, but I reiterate, don’t leave the city.”

Without another word, Marks escorted Mrs. Vaughan from the room. They met Arthur in the hallway, sipping his coffee. Morgan stood at the door and watched them leave.

Andrea emerged from the interview room looking thoughtful.

“What do you think?” Morgan asked.

“I think Mrs. Vaughan looked a little shaky.”

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“Agreed. What are you going to do now?”

“I’ll present the evidence to the DA with my recommendations, and we’ll go from there.”

“And what do you recommend?”

“It’s a good theory, Morgan, but I’m not sure it’ll stand up to cross-examination.”

“I know. But it’s all we’ve got for now.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Let me know of any new developments, will you?”

“No problem.”

“Are you going to be able to manage by yourself tonight?”

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering about washing your hair.”

“And what’s wrong with my hair?” Morgan tried to sound indignant.

“Absolutely nothing, Sergeant. I love the color of your hair.”

Andrea blushed. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“It sounded all right to me, Counselor.” Morgan smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

“What I’m trying dismally to say is that I’m free tonight if you need any help with, say, hair washing, cooking, or cleaning. I’m yours.”

“You are?” Morgan smiled teasingly.

“Oh, Lord. L-look—” Andrea stammered. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. If you need help, I’m here, okay?” She hurried off, leaving Morgan to chuckle at her obvious embarrassment.

Considering what Morgan had seen of Andrea’s professional demeanor, it was unusual to see her feathers ruffled. Henry joined her as she watched Andrea head toward her office. “That was interesting,” he said.

“The counselor?”

“No. The Vaughans. What were you trying to achieve?”

“A little fishing expedition. Send out a line and see who nibbles.”

“Just be careful you don’t snag yourself a shark there.”

She smiled at him. “I’d better get my harpoon then, matey.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

Morgan looked at the growing pile of files that had been put on hold while they worked on Rose McManus’s murder. Unfortunately, they were going to have to wait a little longer. While the money trail had gone cold, Morgan concentrated her efforts on

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Rose herself, trying to get a feel for the woman who suffered such a senseless death. Arthur Vaughan’s claim that he was Rose’s father was still hearsay, but she had ordered a DNA test to clear up that point. A search for other relatives proved fruitless. Rose’s mother was an only child, and she was now dead.

Despite Morelli’s hindrance, Morgan’s team was able to come up with the financial records for Rose and the Vaughan family. While Rose’s bank statements showed nothing more than what her take-home pay was, Connie Vaughan’s accounts continued to draw Morgan’s attention.

She had sent Velasquez and one of the younger, newer detectives out into the street to interview neighbors and friends of the Vaughans, while Henry was on the phone tracking down the attendees at Chelsea Vaughan’s supposed party in the Village.

“All done,” Henry said as he sat back with a sigh. “A couple of them will come in early Monday morning before we interview Chelsea. The rest will give statements early next week.”

“Good idea. Wouldn’t want to put my foot in it before checking the facts, huh?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, boss.”

“You had to bring that up, didn’t you? Geez, I go into an interview without all the facts once, and it sticks like mud.”

“You walked right into it, Red. You didn’t really expect me to let the opportunity pass by, did you?”

“It would be nice once in a while.”

He smiled. “So, what are you doing tonight?”

“Going home. Why, are you planning to sleep here? Suzie kicked you out again?”

“As if. I think she wanted to check out the damage for herself.”

“I’m not a Barnum and Bailey sideshow. If I were, I’d be charging.”

“We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Between you and Andrea, I’m more than fine, so stop worrying, Mom.”

“Is Andy going over to supervise you?”

“Why is it that everyone thinks I’m incapable of looking after myself?”

“Hello. You have a broken wrist.”

“It was not my fault. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“Because it’s more fun not to? Okay, enough teasing. You are a very capable detective, Morgan, don’t ever doubt that, but you need to get a life.”

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“I have a life, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, right. I’m your best friend, so what does that say?”

“I have bad taste in friends?”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Miss Congeniality. You have no life outside of the service. Your life is the service.”

Henry was right, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. Her private life left a lot to be desired, and she was doing nothing to change it. “Can I take a rain check?”

“Of course, but it has an expiration date, so beware.” Henry stood up from his chair and reached for his jacket. “Now, if we’re finished here, I have a family waiting at home for me.”

“Sure, don’t mind me.”

“Sorry, Red, but I do have to get home or Suzie will kick my butt.”

“Now that I’d like to see. Send my love to the tribe.”

“Will do. You know…”

“I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

“All right. If you say so. Have a relaxing weekend. No racquetball or wrestling, you got me?”

“I don’t think I can take any more of your jibes. Just go home, will you?”

“Yes, boss.” He waved over his shoulder as he walked toward the front door, leaving Morgan alone in the office.

“Yes, ma’am,” she muttered. The weekend was ahead of her, and she suspected that Andrea would find a way to insinuate herself into Morgan’s spare time. But was that a good thing or a bad thing? Morgan was apprehensive about finding out.

Chapter 9

The quiet hum of the air conditioning in the waiting room did nothing to settle Andrea’s nerves. She had made the appointment with the psychiatrist on impulse and was extremely lucky to get one on such short notice. Her only saving grace was an unexpected lastminute cancellation and her friendship with the person in question. Now she was having second, third, and fourth thoughts. The door to the inner sanctum opened and out stepped a man around forty years of age, with distinguished features despite a rather prominent nose. He also sported a full head of dark brown hair.

“Andrea. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hello, Robert.” Andrea smiled weakly.

“You’re here in New York for a visit?” he asked, looking at her with a bemused expression.

“No, it’s not a social visit.”

“This is your next patient, Doctor.” The receptionist handed over the empty folder with Andrea’s name printed on it in large letters.

“Patient?” He looked at Andrea in confusion. “Come in then.”

He extended his hand toward the door, and she went into his office.

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The door might have closed quietly, but to Andrea, it sounded like a death knell. Robert Parkinson was a friend of the family. She only hoped that what she was about to discuss with him would be bound by his Hippocratic Oath and override his need to tell her mother.

“No—yes.” She sighed. “I don’t know.” She sat in the leatherbound chair opposite his desk.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

She nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m working here in New York. I just started at the District Attorney’s Office this week.”

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“The DA’s Office, eh? Good for you. And is there a problem at work?”

“Not with work as such, more a—” How could she put it? “A conflict of interest, maybe. I—that is—” She stopped, trying to figure out how to explain her feelings.

“How about we start with something easier? How’s your mother?”

That’s part of the problem. “She’s fine. She’s always fine.”

“Still as domineering as ever, I suppose,” he said dryly. Andrea smiled.

“Virginia always has a way with…” He hesitated. Andrea knew exactly what he meant. “Manipulating people?”

“Quite so. And Jefferson?”

“Daddy finds solace in work. When he isn’t trying to appease Mother.”

“Is that why you came to New York?”

“Partly, but the job was just too good to pass up.” Andrea tried to gauge his reaction, but she read nothing in his expression.

“So it was the job?”

“Of course.” She tried to sound indignant but failed. Robert scribbled some notes on the blank paper in her file, and Andrea quelled an urge to lean forward and try to read what he had written.

“And how’s your love life?” He looked up at her. Andrea’s eyes widened at the question, because it was so unexpected. “Er… fine, thanks. I’m getting married.”

“Really? Anyone I know?”

“Joel Redmond.”

“Ah, yes. I remember him. You and he travelled in the same social circle, right?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Andrea tried to appear nonchalant.

“And how is he?”

“The same as he’s always been.”

“Mmm.”

“What’s that mean?” Andrea asked defensively. He glanced at her, surprised. “Normally I wouldn’t explain myself, but in your case I’ll make an exception. If I remember rightly, Joel liked his parties back in the old days. And now you say he hasn’t changed.”

Andrea’s eyes dropped. “I—I’m not sure—”

“Do you think this job in New York is an excuse?”

“Why do I need an excuse?”

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“Andrea, I know your mother and how much she wants that grandchild. We both know your brother Beau is out of the question after his illness. You’re their last chance to carry on the Worthington name.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Every day. Every single day. It’s

‘Joel’ this and ‘Joel’ that, waving wedding invitations in front of my face. I’m very aware of what’s at stake here.” The anger was palpable in her tone.

“Relax. I’m here to help.”

“Sorry.”

“No need. So, you’re not completely happy with Joel?”

“Yes—” She stopped. “No. Can you ask something easier?”

Another scratch of pen on paper.

“Do you have to keep doing that?” she asked, irritated. The scratching stopped and he looked up and smiled. “Sorry.”

He put the lid back on the fountain pen and placed it next to his notes. He leaned back in his large leather wingback chair and clasped his hands together. “Why are you here?”

“That’s an easier question?”

He didn’t answer.

“Damn it,” Andrea muttered. “Okay. There’s this woman,” she blurted then stopped. She watched him for a reaction, but she got none. “She’s a detective in the police station where my office is. We’ve had a lot of contact since I started, and we get along quite comfortably. Anyway, she saved me from getting hit by a car—”

“A car? Are you all right?”

Andrea could see Robert had a genuine concern for her health.

“I’m fine. She pushed me out of the way, and she ended up with a broken wrist. Now I sort of feel responsible for looking after her. I don’t—I’m not sure what I feel.”

“Is it because of her health or because you like being with her?”

Andrea thought about the question for a while. “I suppose if I’m honest with myself, a bit of both.”

“I see.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It’s shrink talk for ‘I see.’”

“Robert, please. Help me here. What do I do?”

Robert regarded her for a long moment before responding.

“Well, the one question you have to ask yourself before you do anything else is do you want to spend the rest of your life with Joel?”

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“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is. It’s either yes or no.”

“I can’t make up my mind. That’s the problem.” Andrea looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

“But you have, my dear. You’ve already told me.”

“I have?”

He looked over his notes. “You’re marrying Joel because your mother is insisting you do. She’s made the match, and you’re going along with it. Obviously, Joel hasn’t changed his ways and you’re prepared to ignore it because you don’t love him.”

Andrea so wanted to deny his pronouncements, but in her heart she knew he was right. It was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. She was apathetic to the whole thing. “So what do I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. I thought that was your job.”

He laughed. “Psychiatrist and matchmaker, eh? Look, you have a number of options. Quit your job and go home to good old Joel. Quit your job and leave for parts unknown. Get on with your job and your life. Tell this woman how you feel and tell Joel to get lost, or quietly move into a life of celibacy.”

“Become a nun?” She groaned. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

“No. Haven’t you been listening to a thing I say?” he asked patiently.

“I have, but I’m still waiting to hear something that appeals to me.”

“Andrea, I know how hard it is to tell your mother to mind her own business, but if you want to be happy, that’s exactly what you have to do. However, if you’re going to admit to her that you could be gay, or bisexual, I would pick your moment very carefully.”

“Gay? I didn’t say I was gay.” But even the words sounded hollow to her. Maybe she was hoping Robert would make that decision for her.

“You said a woman, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think of this woman as more than a friend?”

“I—I kissed her.” Oh, God. Why was she telling him this?

“I’d say that’s a yes.”

“It was a dare.”

“Who made the dare?”

“I did. I thought she would prefer to take her meds rather than kiss me.”

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“And you don’t think it was because you secretly wanted to know what it was like to kiss a woman? You must have had some inkling of the detective’s sexual leaning, otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen that particular dare.”

“Or maybe I did it because I thought she was straight and she wouldn’t do it.”

“You can put it any way you want.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You’re making excuses for what she makes you feel. You simply want me to make the hard decisions for you.”

“Maybe I do. I just wanted someone to talk to.”

“I’m here, you know that. I’m glad that you thought of me.”

Robert paused. “Your first decision must be about Joel. You’re obviously having second thoughts about the marriage. If you decide that you don’t want to proceed, now is the time to put a stop to it before it becomes a three-ring circus, because knowing your mother as I do that’s what it will end up being.”

“I just needed someone to talk to, Robert, someone who wouldn’t be judgmental. I don’t want anyone to know about what I’m wrestling over. Especially when it comes to my family.”

“And yet you came to someone who is involved with your family. Why not go to a stranger?”

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question.”

“I think we both know why you came to see me.”

“For one thing, you have intimate knowledge of what I’m talking about.”

“But that’s not the main reason, is it, Andrea?”

“I suppose not.” Andrea could feel her heart pumping hard against her rib cage. “I just didn’t want a stranger sticking his nose into family business.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Andrea, but don’t wait too long to jump one way or the other. These things have a way of coming out”—he chuckled at the pun—”whether you want them to or not.”

“Indeed,” she mumbled absently. “So, no advice for me?”

“Yes. Something very simple. Follow your heart. It will never lie to you.”

“That’s it?”

“Don’t fight or encourage it. Let it all unfold, and if it’s meant to happen, it will.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t sure it was that simple, but she was willing to try it. “Thanks, I think.” She rose and went around the desk to give him a hug. “It really was good to see you.”

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“Send my love to the family when you next talk to them.”

“Sure.” She moved from the table across the thick carpet to the door, her hand finally resting on the handle.

“And Andrea? If it’s worth anything, I have no objection to you being gay.” He grinned at her as she rolled her eyes. Andrea closed the door behind her in deep thought. If it’s meant to happen, it will.

* * *

Morgan lounged on her sofa in her sweats. After her rather challenging day, it was nice to sit down quietly and allow her body to relax, as much as she could with the constant pain in her wrist. She had resisted taking the pain medication, instead saving it for when she wanted to get some sleep.

She tried to get involved in watching television, but she couldn’t sustain the concentration. There was a knock on the door, and she glanced over at it. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so who was disturbing her at this time of night? She checked the peephole and groaned softly, seeing the one person she really wasn’t prepared to see. Oh, no. Could she pretend she was asleep, or out?

“I know you’re there, O’Callaghan. I can hear you breathing.”

Damn! Was the woman psychic? Morgan opened the door, revealing Andrea in jeans and a loosely hanging blouse, the smooth texture of the material dropping softly and molding itself to her body. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and her hair framed her face in a gentle wave rather than in the styled business look she normally adopted.

So beautiful. Morgan was now absolutely one hundred percent positive that this was definitely not the place Andrea should be.

“What?” Andrea looked down at her shirt.

“Nothing,” Morgan whispered. “Nothing at all.”

“Good.” But Morgan didn’t move aside. “Can I come in?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Morgan wanted to tell her to go home, but she could see by the expression on Andrea’s face and the suitcase she had with her, that ‘no’ wasn’t going to be accepted. Andrea brushed by her and into the apartment. Morgan smiled sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t imagine you would own a pair of jeans.”

“What did you expect? All business suits and high heels?”

“Pretty much.”

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“It’s very un-American not to own at least one pair of jeans,”

Andrea teased. She put her bag near the door and seated herself on the sofa.

“But it doesn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with the rich and famous, you know?” Morgan followed her and continued past her to the kitchen to get coffee.

“You mean the Southern rich and famous. You still think of us as Gone With the Wind types? Debutante balls and the Ladies Auxiliary? Not this little black duck.”

“Little black duck? Are you still the little Southern Rebel?”

Andrea thought for a moment. “I suppose I am. I was a little black duck in a group of two. Maybe that’s why my mother is so intent on me being married with kids. If my brother and I don’t have kids, the Worthington Empire dies.”

“Your dad has no brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah, he has a deadbeat brother, but no way in hell would he hand over the business to that crumb.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“They were my mother’s words, not mine. Uncle Joshua is an okay kind of guy, if you like the sort that squanders their inheritance. But Daddy worked too hard to build up his business to see it crumble twelve months after his death. Besides, I think he kind of likes the thought of handing it down to his own grandchild.”

Morgan returned with two mugs of hot coffee and handed one over to Andrea. “Didn’t you say you had a brother?”

“He’s not able—” Andrea stopped and took a sip of her coffee.

“Not able?” Morgan sat down on the sofa and looked into Andrea’s eyes, seeing the unspoken warning. She did not want to be questioned about it. “Okay, so your brother can’t help. That leaves you. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Day in. Day out. My mother was constantly harping on me to marry Joel, and it was slowly driving me crazy. I’m beginning to wonder whether I moved here just to get away from her constant nagging. I’m giving her what she wants. Can’t she leave me alone?”

Morgan raised her eyebrows. “If she was bothering you that much, I’m surprised you didn’t book a seat on the next space shuttle.”

“Hmm. I didn’t think of that.”

Morgan laughed and Andrea grinned.

“So, why are you here?” Morgan tried to sound unconcerned about Andrea’s arrival.

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“I’m your second hand for this weekend. What do you need help with?”

“I told you I’m fine.” Morgan was tired of trying to convince everyone she could manage.

“This would be a good opportunity to wash your hair.”

Unfortunately, Andrea was right. Her hair had been in the toohard basket for too long. “All right, but that’s it. I can manage everything else.”

“Sure you can,” Andrea said, but Morgan thought she sounded a little too bright.

“Are you sassing me?”

“Now, Sergeant, I would never think of doing such a thing.”

“You are, aren’t you?” Morgan didn’t know whether to be angry or just surrender.

“I’m thinking over the kitchen sink. It’s either that or the shower, and I know how much you would enjoy that,” Andrea said cheekily. “I’ll have some room to maneuver in the kitchen, and it should keep the mess to a minimum.” Andrea reached for the buttons of her blouse.

“Wha—what the hell are you doing?”

Andrea stopped. “Do you honestly think I’m not going to get wet doing this? Hang on.” She went in search of her suitcase and rummaged through it. She drew out an old T-shirt emblazoned with two ducks and the logo “Fly United.”

Morgan shook her head in disbelief.

“What?”

“I would never in my wildest dreams imagine you wearing a Tshirt. It’s a radical look for you, don’t you think?”

“It’s the only one I have. My mother threw it out twice, but I managed to sneak it back in.” Andrea said mischievously.

“Ah, the black duck strikes again! I haven’t seen that logo in years.”

“Hey. No one messes with my T-shirt.”

“Gotcha.” Morgan chuckled. “A T-shirt. Now I’ve seen everything.”

“But it’s my black duck T-shirt. There’s a big difference.”

“And I’m sure you enjoyed wearing it to annoy the hell out of your mother. You’re a little troublemaker, aren’t you?”

A cheeky smile hovered on Andrea’s lips. “Not this little black duck. Haven’t you figured me out yet, Sergeant?”

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“I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface, Counselor.”

Morgan forced herself to look into Andrea’s eyes. Andrea blinked first.

“Stop distracting me. We have some hair to wash. I’ll get the shampoo.”

Morgan pointed to the bathroom.

As Andrea disappeared, Morgan wondered whether this was a good idea. Suddenly she had a best buddy who was with her every waking minute, and she was wondering if she could keep the friendship platonic with so much contact. She was about to find out. Twenty minutes later, she had forgotten all about her misgivings. If she had realized how sensual it was to have someone wash her hair, she would have tried it long ago. Andrea’s nimble fingers gently massaged her scalp, slowly lulling her into a sleepy state as Andrea lathered up her hair. It was nearly hypnotic.

“Are you still with me?” Andrea asked.

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going off to sleep there for a minute.”

“Keep this up and I just might,” Morgan said, feeling relaxed.

“It’s been a long day?”

“Long, painful, frustrating, and tiring. I suppose just a little bit. But then you know all that.”

“Duck your head.” Andrea grabbed an old jug filled with warm water and rinsed out the shampoo, a job that took several minutes and then some. “Woman, you have a lot of hair. How on earth do you keep it clean?”

“It takes some work, believe me. But it’s more thick than long.”

“Is that good?”

Morgan groaned. “Oh, yeah. Keep doing that.” She didn’t want the hair washing to end. If she thought the actual washing was something, her head plastered against Andrea’s abdomen while she vigorously rubbed Morgan’s damp hair with a towel was something else entirely. Oh, God. She inhaled Andrea’s scent. It was so… she couldn’t think of a word to describe what was happening. Her body was being filled with Andrea, who was infiltrating every pore, cell, and synapse. It was intoxicating, like a rare wine left years to mature and develop into something perfect.

“I—” Morgan started to say, but her voice cracked. “That’s enough.” She pulled away.

“Why? I haven’t finished yet.”

“That’s okay. Thank you for doing this.”

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Andrea studied her then shrugged. “Why don’t we have some dinner then?”

“I’ve already eaten, but you can help yourself.”

“Morgan, you have nothing in your fridge but a mold colony. I’d have to order in.”

“There’s the phone.” Morgan pointed to it.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Tired, I guess.” It was a half-truth.

“Okay, if you want an early night, that’s okay. I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you go get some sleep if you’ll show me around the city tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You’re not working, are you?”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t want to show me around?” Andrea sounded hurt.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve got housework to do.” How stupid did that sound?

“With one hand? Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be easy.”

“All right. I’ll give you a hand, then we can go for a walk in Central Park. How about that? Is that safe enough?”

“Safe? Are you insinuating something?”

“Moi? Maybe this little black duck is hoping to get to know you better.”

“Why?” Morgan didn’t really understand all of this. Why was it going on? “Please explain it to me. I don’t understand.” Morgan looked up into Andrea’s eyes.

“I like you, Morgan O’Callaghan, and I’d like to spend some time with you outside of work. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Morgan stood, her hair already beginning to dry into a tangled mess. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“Geez, you make me sound so appealing,” Andrea said sarcastically, “like I’m some virulent disease or something.” Andrea steered her toward the bedroom. “Let’s get this dried before we continue this conversation.”

The whir of the hair dryer filled the air, and Morgan let Andrea continue working on her hair. She felt confused and worried, but she was enjoying the company.

“My God, woman, I’ve never seen so much hair in all my life,”

Andrea said.

“Just braid it. That keeps it under control.”

“Your wish is my command, ma’am.”

“Not all the time,” Morgan said softly, wishing Andrea would obey all her wishes.

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“What?” Andrea asked as she worked.

“Nothing.” Morgan silently cursed herself for inadvertently voicing her thoughts.

Andrea tied a band around the base of Morgan’s braid.

“I’ve got to get some sleep.” Morgan tried to come up with an excuse to escape.

“What about tomorrow?”

“It’s really not a good time.” Somehow she didn’t think that was going to be enough.

“I don’t get it,” Andrea said quietly as Morgan’s bedroom door closed.

“Neither do I,” Morgan replied from behind the closed door. And tomorrow was going to be another day that she didn’t really want to face.

Chapter 10

Sensual heat.

Morgan’s body was alive with arousal as Andrea touched her.

“Morgan.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, dripping with desire. Morgan let out a low moan when Andrea found her. Her body no longer her own, Morgan became the plaything of her lover. Andrea investigated every dip and curve, and when Morgan could stand the heat no longer she burst into flames, swept away on a tide of ecstasy.

Morgan awoke covered in sweat, her heart pounding in her heaving chest. Andrea was slowly driving her insane. She stared blankly at the ceiling then lifted her good arm to cover her face.

“Oh, fuck.” The words came out as a woeful moan, echoing her pain. What was she going to do?

A knock at the door sent her into a spin. “Shit.” She looked at the time. “Oh, crap!” Andrea had slept here overnight and now she was awake and raring to go. Morgan was still in her underwear or, more to the point, what she called her pajamas. She scrambled out of bed as quickly as her broken wrist would allow and glanced in the mirror. She was a mess, standing there with sheet-wrinkled face, a tank top that advertised her aroused state, and her ever-present boxer shorts.

The knock grew louder. “Coming.” Frantically, she looked around for her robe. Who was she kidding? She never used her robe. Dashing to the closet, she rummaged around for it.

“Hello? Morgan?”

Morgan barely heard the words, since her head was buried in the closet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she yelled impatiently. “Keep your shirt on.” A fleeting image of Andrea without a shirt crossed her mind. “Stop it,” she told herself as her one good hand flicked through her clothing. Of course, the robe was the last item on the 121

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rack and the hanger didn’t want to give it up, steadfastly gripping the material. “I fucking don’t believe this.”

“You are in so much trouble here.” Andrea’s voice held a hint of annoyance.

Morgan was so close to just closing the door and going back to bed. Screw Andrea. Oh, God, c’mon, Morgan. Stop this crap. Her only hope was that she could work this feeling out of her system. Giving up trying to untangle the robe, she slipped it on, went to the door, and opened it.

“Hi,” Andrea said. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

Morgan stood there with one arm precariously perched in the robe. It dangled behind her, wrapped around a coat hanger.

“Having trouble? You didn’t have to dress for me.”

“I had a slight problem.” Morgan ripped off the robe. Trying to wear something that was covering up nothing was pretty pointless.

“Come on, rise and shine, sleepyhead. We’ve got chores to do.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“Nine in the morning? Why are you waking me up so early?”

“Early? You and I are usually at work by this time,” Andrea said with a slight snort.

“Not on the weekends.”

“What a waste of a weekend.”

“I’ve got nothing to do. Why not sleep it away?” Morgan grumbled.

“Well, not this weekend, you don’t. Now get dressed. We have things to do and places to go.”

“No people to see?” Morgan said teasingly.

“I can arrange that if you want. I thought a more intimate pairing would be better, but hey, whatever floats your boat. If you want more people to watch, I don’t mind.” Andrea grinned at the look of astonishment Morgan felt on her face. “Now get a move on and get dressed. I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“Sure. You know where everything is.” Morgan went back into her bedroom shaking her head. Whether she liked it or not, Andrea had her attention for today.

* * *

Andrea sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, listening to the running shower and thinking about the enigma standing in it. 123

Morgan seemed to have two totally different sides. First there was the cop. Rough and tough and very professional according to what she had been able to ascertain from her fellow workers. Then there was the woman who was laid back in a shy sort of way, but Andrea doubted that anyone got to see that side of her. She frowned. Why was she even thinking about this? Because Robert had suggested ideas that refused to go away. No, that wasn’t true. She had been subconsciously thinking about it before then. There was something indefinable between Morgan and her, but how far did she want it to go? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

When she was in Morgan’s presence, it all seemed so clear, but sitting here contemplating her actions, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she should be. Of course, it meant being brutally honest about her life. As Robert had said, did she want to spend her life with Joel? Realistically, she knew their engagement was for her family and not herself, so that solved one problem. She could be content with having a husband and raising a family—after all, that was what she had been brought up to believe, but would she be happy? She glanced toward the bedroom. If she was going to be this honest with herself, the answer was right in front of her. All she had to do was let it unfold, as Robert suggested, and see if it was meant to be.

At that moment, Morgan stepped out of the bedroom, dressed in snug jeans and T-shirt. Joel, or any other man for that matter, never looked that damn good to her in Levi’s and T-shirt.

“So—”

“So,” Andrea said, “let’s get this washing done, okay? Then I can get what I want.”

“You want something?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m itching to discover Central Park with you.”

“Do you think that’s really wise? Someone might see us together.” The words slipped out of Morgan’s mouth.

“Why are you worried about that?” Andrea regarded her. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”

“Aw, hell, no. I didn’t mean it that way. No, of course I’m not. It’s just… oh, why did I say anything at all?”

“Then what are you getting at? I’m not going to jump into your lap or hold your hand. Okay? I’ve even brought my camera, see?”

She reached into her bag and extracted a small digital camera.

“Look, I enjoy your company. That’s it.”

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Morgan fidgeted. “I was just concerned about work, that’s all. Things can get even more tense than they are already.” She paused.

“Nothing more?”

“Not today, anyway,” Andrea said impishly. “I’ll behave myself. Honestly.”

Morgan gave her a cautious look.

“It’s a beautiful day out there. A nice walk in the park with you would be just fine.”

“Let me find a bag for the laundry.”

Morgan turned around to return to the bedroom, and Andrea couldn’t stop a low whistle escaping her lips. Those jeans were pretty tight, and she liked what she saw. A little ego stroking for the woman with the broken wrist would go a long way today. Morgan slung the laundry bag over her shoulder and led the way. “Was that really necessary?”

“You didn’t like my admiration?” Andrea knew she did despite what Morgan was trying to deny.

“It was a bit coarse.”

“Oh, come on. You loved it and you know it.”

“That might be, but why did you do it?”

“I was just cheering you up, that’s all.”

“Humph.”

The laundry took the best part of the morning, the aging machines making any sort of conversation impossible. Andrea sat cross-legged on top of the bench watching Morgan fuss around the room. Something was bothering her, she could see that, and Andrea hoped by the end of the day she would find out what it was.

* * *

Morgan never thought she would be so happy to be out in the fresh air—as fresh as New York City air could be—and going for a long walk. When she grabbed her handcuffs and removed her gun from her duty holster and loaded them into her off-duty holster pack, she earned a raised eyebrow from her companion, but she was not sorry for doing so. When she stepped out that door she was still on call.

It took a little convincing, though, to get Andrea to leave her purse behind. At last, Morgan impressed on her the risks of purse snatching in the park. It was nearly a national pastime there. So, armed with her camera and her wallet tucked into her jeans pocket, Andrea walked beside Morgan to discover New York City. 125

“You want the New York experience? Let’s take the subway. This should cure your curiosity.” Morgan grinned and grabbed Andrea’s hand, surprising them both, and dragged her toward the nearest station.

“Okay, that was weird. I felt like I was back at university,”

Andrea said as they exited the subway at Central Park.

“You attended university here?”

“No, back in Charleston, but I relied on public transport then, despite my mother’s insistence that I use our chauffeur. Now that would have been embarrassing. School was hard enough with all the other prima donnas who filled the dorm rooms. Unlike them, I wanted to get my degree. Besides, it was my chance to see how the other half lived without my mother breathing down my neck.”

“And how did the other half live?”

“Quite well, in fact. It was kind of nice to get away from all the pomp and circumstance of society life. I think that’s where my independent streak burst into life. I found I could look after myself without mother’s interference.”

“And Daddy’s money?” Morgan said spontaneously. She caught herself. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Andrea studied her for a moment before responding. “Actually, I found that out, too. I gave myself an allowance, and I managed to stick to it. Of course I had that inheritance to fall back on if it all went wrong.” Andrea shrugged. “But I felt a sense of achievement those few years. Mother, of course, would disagree with that.”

“I’m sure she would.”

“Well, now that you know my life story…”

“Life story? I don’t think so. I think I’ve only scratched the surface,” Morgan said before changing the subject. She guided Andrea through the park, only just realizing that it was nearly lunch time. “You still want the full New York experience?” Morgan looked down at Andrea.

“Sure. Give it to me.”

Morgan bit her tongue so as not to make some smart-ass comment to Andrea’s remark. “This way.” She steered Andrea left down a side path toward a vendor’s cart parked a hundred feet away. “Two please, with the works.” Morgan held up two fingers as she placed her order before she reached into her front pocket to retrieve her wallet. She extracted a couple of bills after nearly dropping it, and put the wallet clumsily back into her pocket.

“Damn it, why did I ever let you talk me into wearing this sling?”

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“Because you needed it. Now stop complaining and give me my hotdog.” Andrea bypassed Morgan and went straight to the vendor, taking both hotdogs from him while Morgan settled everything back in place.

Morgan took the food, eyeing it warily. “This is going to be tricky.”

“You bought it, so don’t go blaming this catastrophe on me. Let’s sit down on that park bench over there and eat this before we drop everything.” She waited for Morgan to take a seat before handing over the convoluted mess that was her hotdog. “Do I want to ask what’s on this thing?”

“Everything. You can’t have a hotdog without everything. It would be like having fries without ketchup.” She laughed at Andrea’s horrified expression.

She had shaky control of the food at first, but as the hotdog got shorter and shorter, Morgan’s confidence grew. After their calorieladen lunch, she escorted Andrea around Central Park, sticking mainly to the Great Lawn and the lakes, strolling around and feeding the ducks.

“Can I ask you something?”

Morgan knew this was the question she had been waiting for since this morning. She steeled herself. “Sure.” What could she say? No, mind your own business?

“Why do you live where you do?” Morgan’s expression told Andrea not to ask. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

But Morgan knew she couldn’t leave it there. Andrea had to know it wasn’t because she didn’t care. Well, partly. “Do you know how hard it is to get affordable accommodations in this city?”

“Been there, done that.”

“Yeah, right,” Morgan said tightly. Money opened a lot of doors, including accommodation. She knew Andrea had absolutely no idea what she was getting at. “But that aside, it’s cheap, it’s rent controlled, and it’s not very far from work.”

“I know that a sergeant’s salary isn’t that bad. Couldn’t you afford something better?”

“Are you saying my place is a dump?” Morgan tried to keep her sarcasm at bay.

“No, not at all. Well, maybe a little. Please don’t be angry. I just don’t see you living there like that.”

“Yeah, it is a dump, but I keep it clean. The crime isn’t too bad in that area, the junkies are luckily a bit farther away, so it’s a pretty 127

good family neighborhood. Besides, it’s only me. I don’t need anything fancy.”

“So what do you do with the rest of your money?”

Morgan stared at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Andrea said hastily. “None of my business again.”

“How about if I ask you what you do with your money?”

“Point taken.” Andrea changed the subject. “So where are we going?”

“I’m saving it.”

“Pardon me?” Andrea glanced at her.

“I’m saving it. Sometime down the road I want a place of my own.”

“That’s pretty expensive here.”

“Not here. Out in the country, preferably along the coast somewhere.”

“And you would leave all this?”

“Not now, no. But if there came a time where the department and I no longer saw eye to eye anymore, then I would leave the force. Find a place to fish, to explore, maybe get a hobby or two. For now, I save. Why waste money on a place that houses only me?”

“That’s pretty frugal, my friend.”

Morgan shrugged her good shoulder. “It doesn’t worry me. I live for the job, not the home. There’s no one in my life.”

“What about family?”

Morgan’s voice hardened. “I have no family.”

“You were an only child?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Did they die or something?”

“Or something. Can we change the subject please?” Morgan didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading.

“Okay.” Andrea stopped. “How about we go up here?” She pointed to one of the quieter paths that circled the rim of the park.

“Fine.” Morgan forced herself to calm down, knowing that Andrea was just making conversation and didn’t deserve to be the object of her ire. “What about you? Tell me your deep dark secrets.”

“Me? I have no secrets. What you see is what you get.”

“So your dad is Jefferson Worthington, huh?”

“Yes. And?”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“It is now, but it wasn’t always like that. Mom and Dad both came from middle-class families. Like you.” She looked directly

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into Morgan’s eyes. “We weren’t born into money. Well, I was, but my parents weren’t.”

“That’s quite an empire he built. Very impressive.”

“Eh. Whatever.” Andrea shifted her gaze to the footpath as they strolled under the trees, walking in the dappled sunlight. “Why is it that people are so interested in our money?”

“Because we don’t have it,” Morgan said, glancing over at her.

“Well, it’s not an issue with me.”

“That’s because you never had to go without,” Morgan said, somewhat seriously.

“And you won’t, either. Stop worrying about money, all right? You have a very sensible financial plan, and you seem very committed to it.”

“I have to be.” Morgan struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Tell me about your brother.”

“My bro—” Andrea started to speak but her attention was drawn to a suspicious-looking man in a tracksuit. He grabbed the purse of an elderly woman farther up the path and ran off.

“Get back here, you creep!” Morgan yelled, ripping her arm from her sling as she took off after the bag snatcher. She stopped to help the old woman up, asking her if she was all right. The dazed woman didn’t reply, and the look on her face had Morgan wondering if she had hit her head on the pavement during the attack. Within moments Andrea arrived and pushed Morgan to continue the chase. “I’ll take care of this. You go get him.”

Morgan took off in the direction she saw the thief run. He had a head start and was out of sight at the first turn. She continued on in hope of catching a glimpse. Luck was with her. She rounded a curve and saw him. The vendor’s cart, at which they had eaten earlier, was overturned. The hotdog man was swearing in some Baltic language at the man who was lying facedown on the cement. “Stay put,”

Morgan said menacingly as she stood over him, her foot on his back.

She called in the arrest. “Arms behind your back,” she said. As he complied, she pulled out her handcuffs and struggled to attach them with one hand. “You have the right to remain silent.”

Mechanically, she Mirandized him, not even waiting for an answer to the questions.

A uniformed officer arrived on horseback, looking down at her and the man on the ground. Before things got too confusing, Morgan drew out her badge and waved it in the air at the officer. 129

“This lowlife snatched a bag from an older lady. I’ve read him his rights, so he’s all yours.”

As the officer exchanged her handcuffs for his own, she extracted her business card and handed it over. “I have to go back to see how the lady’s doing. I’ll bring her back here, and we can get this paperwork moving.”

Morgan helped the vendor right his cart, albeit with one hand, but her assistance was appreciated. She jogged back up the path toward Andrea and stopped short when she spotted her waving her hands frantically in front of the old woman. Thinking there was some disagreement, she picked up speed and arrived within moments.

“Is everything okay here?”

“Fine. She’s telling me about her son in Florida.”

“She is?”

“She was signing.”

“Signing? What are you talking about?”

“She’s deaf, Morgan. She’s using sign language.”

“And you know sign language?”

“Sure. Picked it up during my time in Charleston.”

“‘Ank yoo,” the old woman said. It was a strange accent, born from not being able to hear the words she was uttering. She patted Morgan’s hand gently in thanks.

Morgan smiled. “You’re welcome,” she spoke clearly, and the old woman grinned. She could feel Andrea watching her, and she sneaked a peek at her expression. It was one of those mushy ones that meant she had somehow made an impression. She could feel herself slipping a fraction more into the quicksand-like hold Andrea had on her. It was becoming harder to remain objective about her feelings.

Andrea walked with the woman back toward the mounted officer, their fingers flying continuously in the air in conversation. Just when she thought she had figured Andrea out, Morgan discovered another layer. She wondered how many more there were to uncover.

During her introspection, she didn’t notice that Andrea had slowed and was now walking beside her. “Hey, there. That was some pretty impressive police work, Sergeant.”

“Nah. Just a little light exercise. Welcome to New York, Counselor.”

“And just think, if I hadn’t bullied you to come out with me that little old lady would have lost her life savings.”

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“For one, you did not bully me, and two, you don’t know that she was carrying her life savings.”

“She told me so.”

Morgan looked directly at Andrea to gauge her sincerity. “Are you razzing me?”

“No. Now come on, hero, let’s see the sights. What’s next?”

“Well, there’s the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“There is?”

“Sure. It’s up toward the Great Lawn on the other side of the lake, so we can head in that direction.”

“Let’s figure it out when we’re done at the station,” Andrea said.

“Sounds good. And thanks.”

“For?”

“Helping out. I’m glad you were here.” Morgan glanced quickly away.

“I am, too. Come on. Let’s get this taken care of.”

After the visit to the Central Park Police Precinct, they picked up their walk where they had left off. “The New York Philharmonic gives a couple of free concerts in the park during the summer. I-I was wondering if you’d like to go,” Morgan finally blurted out.

“You’re not worried about being seen with me?”

Morgan knew she had surprised Andrea with the invitation.

“No. After all, we’re just going as friends, right?”

“Sure. That sounds great. Just let me know when.”

“You’re not worried about Joel misconstruing it as a date?”

Andrea looked at her. “You should be more worried about me misconstruing it as a date.”

Morgan remained silent. A date? Had she called it a date? When did that happen? She kept her mouth shut as they approached the front of the museum.

The last time Morgan had been to the Met, she was still in pigtails. Her family wasn’t really into visiting museums. There were more important things to do with her dad, like going to watch baseball. That was a hell of a lot more fun than looking at dry paint hanging on a wall.

Despite not being a connoisseur of art, Morgan enjoyed the museum, but she figured that was because of the company more than the exhibits. Andrea led her around, talking about this painting and that, doing enough talking to cover Morgan’s silence, for which Morgan was forever grateful. There was no way she was going to open her mouth to show her ignorance, but she was content to enjoy 131

the time with Andrea. They took their time wandering around the massive building, and Morgan’s interest picked up when they found some historical exhibits of weapons and armor. Despite the violent implications of the display, Morgan was surprised that Andrea’s interest was as enthusiastic as her own. She’d never felt this comfortable around anyone before, except maybe her father. And it was so very nice.

By the time they had finished at the museum and wandered idly around the lakes eating ice cream, twilight was setting in. Morgan tried to convince Andrea to return to her own apartment, but it was a losing battle. Like a well-crafted closing speech, Andrea laid out her case as to why she was staying put, leaving Morgan foundering in her wake. She could talk, that was for sure. So they were back where they had started that morning, in Morgan’s apartment. There was still no food, which left two options. Morgan grabbed the bull by the horns and went for the first option. “How about we dine out?”

“Sure. Do I need to dress up? I didn’t bring anything suitable with me.”

“Nah, luckily this restaurant has a very lax dress code.”

Morgan opened her front door and allowed Andrea to leave first. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk Andrea asked, “Where is this restaurant?”

“Not far. Just a block away.”

“Do we need a reservation?”

“I haven’t needed one so far.”

They strolled along the street, taking in the bustle that was Saturday night in New York City. When Morgan stopped outside the restaurant, Andrea’s eyes widened. “Here?”

“Yes. It’s world famous, I know, but I think I can get us a table,” Morgan said jokingly.

“Well, if this is where you want to eat, madam.”

Morgan’s arm swung in a flourish, allowing Andrea to precede her. Confidently she stepped up to the counter and ordered. “Two Big Mac number ones, and Super Size them, please.”

Chapter 11

The weekend had been a wake-up call to Morgan about how isolated her personal life had become. She wasn’t used to someone occupying her personal domain, not since her father was alive, and she was struggling to relax. Andrea might have been there to help, and she had been helpful, but she had also stirred up a gamut of emotions.

There was some relief when Andrea went home Sunday morning to do homework on an upcoming case, but Morgan’s joy was short-lived, and by the end of the day, she missed Andrea’s company.

Monday finally arrived. Morgan felt more settled now that she was in the familiar territory of work. Two of the partygoers had given their statements, and it was time to reinterview Chelsea Vaughan in Interview Room One.

Once again Chelsea and her lawyer, Marks, sat across from Andrea. Henry leaned against the wall opposite Morgan, who looked over at Chelsea.

“Ms. Vaughan, you were in drug rehab a couple of years ago, is that correct?”

“What has this got to do with Rose’s murder?” Marks looked with concern at his client.

“Just answer the question, please.”

“Yes, in England. A private hospital.” Chelsea shifted in her chair.

“What kind of treatment did they use?”

“Basically they locked me up like a prisoner and left me crying like a baby.”

“Did they use any drug therapy?”

“No, this place was more about counseling than drugs.”

“That doesn’t sound very therapeutic.”

“I didn’t think so at the time, but it worked,” Chelsea said, but Morgan thought she sounded insincere.

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“Do you harbor a grudge against your father for locking you up like that?” Morgan asked the question suddenly in the hope of getting a knee-jerk reaction.

“No. Oh, at the time I did, but considering how it all turned out, I really can’t complain.”

“Come on, you must have been seriously pissed off at him for dumping you in England in some crap hole halfway across the world.”

“No, Officer. As I said, at the time I was angry and desperate, but drug withdrawal does that to you. He was a very brave man to take the hard road knowing I would hate him for it. He loved me. I know that now.”

“What does this have to do with the case, Sergeant?” Marks frowned at the line of questioning.

“I’m just filling in some gaps, Mr. Marks.”

“She’s indulging me, Counselor,” Andrea said quietly. “You know as well as I do that everything is important in a case until it’s eliminated from the investigation.”

Morgan glanced at Henry, who was standing behind Chelsea. He nodded.

“Maybe this isn’t as cut-and-dried as everyone thinks,” Morgan said. “Maybe there are others who had motives for killing Ms. McManus. Right now everyone’s a suspect, even you. The fact that your father was about to change his will pushes you up that list a little bit. Who was in? Who was out? Were you being given a smaller cut? Were you being shuffled out of his will completely?”

“I don’t care about his will.”

“Don’t care? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you don’t care whether your father left you millions in his will? Either you’re very naive, Ms. Vaughan, or you think I’m a complete idiot.”

“And your point, Sergeant?”

“While your own rehab didn’t involve any drug treatments, I’m sure you’re well aware that many centers, such as your mother’s—

sorry, stepmother’s—do. It wouldn’t have taken much research on your part to discover the nifty little side effect of her medication. It would have been easy enough to gain access to the house. I know you claim you were at a party, but we’ve talked to those friends of yours. Your alibi faltered, Ms. Vaughan. They couldn’t account for your whereabouts after about two a.m. Why did you leave early?”

Chelsea glared at Morgan for a moment before answering. “It was two a.m. I went home. The party was too crowded, and I

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wanted to be alone. So, I went back to my apartment and went to bed.”

“And I don’t suppose you have someone to back up that statement?”

Chelsea said the words slowly and forcefully, “No, I don’t.”

“You went back to your apartment, so there was nothing to stop you going to your father’s house. You found out that dear old Daddy was going to change his will to include Rose McManus and God knows who else. You couldn’t allow that to happen. So you planned to kill two birds with one stone. Or maybe it was three? You set up your father superficially for the murder of Rose McManus, but left clues to implicate your stepmother.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Marks said. Morgan ignored the lawyer’s comment. “You can’t tell me that Connie Vaughan isn’t a constant pain in your ass? The woman’s barely older than you are, and she holds the wallet.”

“I don’t hate her.” Even as Chelsea spoke, Morgan didn’t believe her. She glanced at Henry and Andrea, and judging from their expressions, they didn’t either. “Say what you will, Ms. Vaughan, but it’s going to take a whole lot more than your statement to convince me otherwise.”

“This interview is over, Sergeant.” Marks stood and directed Chelsea out of the room, leaving Morgan and Henry facing one another while Andrea gathered her files on the table.

“So, who’s the front-runner now?” Henry asked.

“If I knew that, they’d be in custody. It all sounds good, but we’ve still got to prove it.”

“Any more on the missing money?” Andrea joined the conversation as they slowly walked out of the interview room.

“Not yet,” Morgan said. “We’ve checked out all we can there, so we’re building a profile of Rose. There doesn’t seem to be any reason for someone to kill her. She was likeable and hard-working. I just can’t find a motive for this murder.”

“Maybe it was for a secret,” Andrea said.

“Maybe, but if it was, it must have been a doozy.”

“And maybe we’ll never find out what it was,” Henry piped in,

“unless someone’s kind enough to spill the beans.”

“As if that’ll happen,” Morgan said. “So we’ll just keep digging. Meanwhile we’ll keep trying to find that money.”

“Okay. Keep me in the loop.”

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“Of course, Counselor,” Morgan said. She watched Andrea walk down the hallway to her office. Henry chuckled softly behind her.

“And what’s so funny?”

“You.”

“What did I do now?”

“All this phony professionalism going on between you two is so cute.”

“Cute? Me?” Now there was a word she’d never heard in a sentence that referred to her. “Henry, can you get someone to run down phone records on the family, especially Connie and Chelsea Vaughan? I want to know who they’ve been talking to in the last month.”

“Will do.” Henry moved away, leaving Morgan alone.

“So, now what?” she said aloud to herself.

* * *

Morgan watched as Henry typed up another report. How did he do that? She could barely find the alphabet on the keyboard, and yet he moved around it with such ease.

“Hey, Henry.”

He looked at her. “What’s up?”

“Want to go for a ride?”

“Sure thing. I’m just about finished here.”

If she had been typing that same report, she would probably be as far as putting in her name and badge number. “I’ll go and clear it with the captain while you finish up.”

“Okay,” he said absently, his mind clearly already back at the computer.

With the forensics report in hand, Morgan walked briskly toward Captain Markham’s office, blithely ignoring the snide remarks as she passed Morelli’s desk. The guy was being more and more of an ass every day. She knocked firmly on the captain’s door before entering. “Captain?”

“Ah, O’Callaghan. Any news?”

“The final forensics report on the Vaughan case is in. There are two sets of unknown prints in the kitchen.” She placed the report in front of Markham. “Chang and I would like to go visit Vaughan’s office to talk to the two employees missing from the initial round of interviews.”

“Fine. Let me know if you find anything.”

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“You got it, Captain.”

Morgan left the office and waited in the foyer for Henry, watching him approach as he slipped his arms into his coat.

“Ready?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“I’ll drive this time.”

“Is that a comment on my driving?”

“Do you want it to be?” She looked at his amused expression, glad to see he didn’t take it personally.

“You think you can drive better with one arm?”

“Oh, I keep forgetting about this thing.” She glanced down at her sling. As if she could forget it. Her wrist hurt like blazes every single minute of every single day. “Nah, I just wanted to drive, that’s all. I don’t get to do much these days. Oh well… think fast!”

Morgan tossed him the keys.

“So I get to drive?”

“Why else would I give you the keys?”

“To see a master at work?”

“Sheesh, the man thinks he’s a comedian. Don’t quit your day job.” Henry was a lousy driver, but he was a miserable backseat driver: You drive too slow, watch out for the pedestrian, turn left here. Once or twice in the past, she’d been tempted to pull over and just shoot him.

He brought the vehicle to a screeching halt in the underground parking garage of Vaughan’s building. “See? I don’t know what you worry about, Red.”

Morgan glared at him, waiting for her heart rate to slow down. He had narrowly missed a car backing out of a parking spot a minute before, and the squeal of braking tires echoed through the area.

“Let’s see the old man first.” Morgan was pleased that she managed to sound calm, cool, and collected as they stepped into the elevator.

The elevator was whisper quiet, accentuating their breathing in the silence. Morgan looked up and saw a security camera in the corner. She nodded her head toward it. “That might be useful.”

The doors slid open. A receptionist sat at a rather large and officious-looking desk. “May I help you?”

In unison they withdrew their badges. “Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan and Detective Chang here to see Mr. Vaughan.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, we do.”

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“Let me check.”

“I’ll take care of them, Annette.”

The receptionist glanced to her right at an older woman who had just entered the room. She was dressed in a severe suit, and her hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck. Talk about stereotypical. “Detectives, I’m Mr. Vaughan’s personal assistant, Grace Parker. Come this way, please.”

She escorted them back into the elevator, and they took it to the top floor. Morgan suspected Vaughan had a say in the decor of this floor. Large comfortable chairs and wood paneling exuded an understated elegance that spoke of money but not great wealth. She liked it. And she liked him.

Vaughan met them in the foyer. “Ah, Sergeant, Detective. Good to see you again.” The greeting was friendlier than it should have been, considering he was the prime suspect in a murder investigation. “Ms. Parker, could you please arrange coffee for three?” He looked at the detectives and received two nods in reply.

“Let’s talk in here.” He ushered them into his office, a carbon copy of the foyer. “Have a seat.”

Morgan smiled at Henry as they both sat, their weight sinking into the thick cushions of the chairs. “Very nice, Mr. Vaughan.”

“I rather like it. Better than Monets on the wall, eh?” Morgan could understand that, and that moved him up one notch in her estimation of him.

“Don’t like art, Mr. Vaughan?”

“I do, but who wants to spend several million dollars on something you just look at?”

She gazed at him, surprised.

He laughed. “Not what you expected me to say, Sergeant?”

“In my experience, Mr. Vaughan, anyone who has money owns art.”

“Not me, I’m afraid, despite my wife’s constant harping on it. She likes to keep up with the Joneses, or should I say, keep up with the Trumps.”

“How did you manage to stop her buying any?”

He smiled wryly at her.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

In a mock whisper he said, “I told her if she wanted to buy art then I’d have to make cuts elsewhere in her budget to cover it. Somehow she never asked me again. I wonder why?” He laughed again. Ms. Parker arrived with a silver tray, on which sat coffee

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cups, spoons, sugar, and cream. She handed a cup to each of them then left, closing the large wooden door behind her.

“Enough chitchat. What can I help you with?”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Mr. Vaughan, you seem to be taking this murder in stride.”

His expression sobered. “It’s all an act, Sergeant. A little piece of me died that day. I didn’t know her well or for long but what I was able to discover was that she was a wonderful girl. I will miss her greatly. As to my demeanor, I’m just happy to see you, Sergeant.” Vaughan’s eyes caught Morgan’s, leaving the rest unspoken.

Before Henry could ask, she said, “We’re here to interview Ms. Parker and your accountant.” Morgan consulted her notebook. “Mr. Roland Perkins. I know I asked you before, but have you given any more thought to who would harbor a grudge against you?”

“No one comes to mind.”

“Who in your company would have access to your funds, is authorized to use the company account, and has a working knowledge of the accounting system?”

“Besides me, Ms. Parker and the chief financial controller, Mr. Perkins, are the only two parties authorized to release payments from the company account. Ms. Parker has access to the numbers for my private account. Mr. Perkins should also have that information. Anything requiring payment goes through those two people or myself.”

“Mr. Vaughan, has either Mr. Perkins or Ms. Parker been to your house for any reason in the past?”

“Perkins? No, not that I’m aware of. Ms. Parker has been a time or two to pick up documents while I’ve been out of town on business.”

Henry said, “Was there anything else out of the ordinary about to happen in your life—say an impending divorce, the shifting of a large sum of money, or possibly a new business venture? Maybe something that someone might object to?”

“No, no divorce. Shifting money? No. The only thing I can think of that would be considered out of the ordinary besides the change to my will is an external audit on all my finances.”

“Business or private?” Henry asked.

“It was supposed to be business only, but I decided that my private finances needed an overhaul as well. It’s been a few years since the books were scrutinized.”

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Morgan latched onto the word “audit,” and a number of possibilities sprang to mind. “Who knows about the upcoming audit?”

“I mentioned it to Connie. She wasn’t too happy about that. Perkins and Ms. Parker, of course. And the household staff. We needed to get the household account into order.”

“We’d like to interview both Ms. Parker and Mr. Perkins, if that’s possible. One more thing. Were you aware of Rose having a boyfriend or someone she was friends with?”

“Not that I can recall, Sergeant. She was a pretty quiet person and spent most of her evenings in. I think she was doing some night course, but I’m not sure. Maybe our housekeeper, Mrs. O’Malley, would know that.”

“Thank you. I’ll check into that.” But she already had. Still, it never hurt to consult as many sources as she could. The most important detail could be found in the unlikeliest of places. There was a knock on the door, followed by Ms. Parker’s entrance. “Thank you, Ms. Parker. Could you please ask Mr. Perkins to come to my office?”

“Yes, sir.” She left again.

“Is there anyone on that list that stands out for you, sir?”

Morgan asked.

Vaughan scanned the pages quickly before handing it over to Morgan. “As far as I’m aware, everyone’s happy here. But that’s my opinion, not theirs.”

From what she had seen of Vaughan, she suspected that he could be right, but who knew for sure what grudges might be harbored in the lower ranks?

The intercom buzzed, drawing Mr. Vaughan’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Sir,” Ms. Parker said, “Mr. Perkins hasn’t been into work. He took a leave of absence.”

“When did he go on leave?” Morgan jumped into the conversation.

“A week ago. Right after the shooting.”

“And no one made the connection?” At the first round of interviews, Perkins was cleared because he had an alibi. His ID card recorded him arriving at work around seven forty-five a.m. where he remained until well after the murder had taken place. His work colleagues confirmed his presence in a meeting, so Morgan felt that a delay in interviewing him was not a priority. But now he was missing. Why?

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“Ms. Parker, a moment please. Mr. Vaughan, do you mind us using your office to interview your secretary?”

“I have no objection. Do you want me to leave?”

“Ms. Parker might be more inclined to talk more freely without you here. We’ll only need a few minutes.” Morgan watched the two approach each other at the doorway, carefully taking in the body language passing between them. As far as she could see, Vaughan wasn’t concerned about whatever his secretary might say. Henry made a move, but Morgan motioned for him to stay.

“Please sit, Ms. Parker. I just have a couple of questions for you.”

“Or course, Sergeant.”

“Are you aware of anyone in the company who would harbor a grudge against Mr. Vaughan?”

“Mr. Vaughan?” Her eyes widened. “No.”

It was the way she said her boss’s name that prompted the next question. “How about Mrs. Vaughan? How do you feel about her?”

“She’s…” Ms. Parker hesitated. “I don’t know how I feel about her.”

“I believe you do. Tell me what you think about her, and please be candid. Otherwise, Ms. Parker, I’ll come to my own conclusions, and believe me, I can be very imaginative.”

She sighed. “Very well. I can’t say that I like her.” The words were mild, but the intonation was venomous. Morgan suspected there was more than a boss-employee relationship here, even if it was one-sided.

“Enough to implicate her in the maid’s death?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, come now, Ms. Parker. What you feel for Mr. Vaughan goes beyond a simple employer-employee relationship, doesn’t it?”

“He doesn’t know,” she said, looking sad. “He doesn’t even know I exist. It’s ‘Ms. Parker’ this and ‘Ms. Parker’ that. I’m sure he doesn’t even know my first name.”

“It’s Grace,” a deep voice said from the doorway. “Of course, I know who you are, Grace Parker.” Vaughan looked at Morgan. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, I couldn’t stay out any longer. I’m expecting an urgent overseas call any minute that I have to take.”

“Thank you, Mr. Vaughan. I’ve finished with Ms. Parker for now.” She turned to the stricken woman. “I’d like you to come down to the precinct for a further statement and fingerprints. It’s for reference purposes only. So we can eliminate you from our investigation. One thing before I go. I need Mr. Perkins’s address 141

please. Is there any other place he would go, like a vacation house? And do you have a photo of him on file?” Morgan received a nod.

“Henry, can you go with Ms. Parker? I want to have a word alone with Mr. Vaughan.” She knew he would be looking at her for an explanation but now was not the time. “Thanks, partner.”

After the door closed, Vaughan spoke up. “You wish to say something, Sergeant?”

“You know you’re a prime suspect in a murder.”

“Of course.”

“But your attitude is strange. You seem to be nearly nonchalant about the fact that you could be arrested and arraigned for the crime at a moment’s notice. Are you sure you understand the seriousness of the situation?”

“I do, Sergeant, but if it was an open-and-shut case, I’d be in jail already. I have every confidence in you. Despite the fact that I have no clear memory of what happened, I know I’m not capable of killing someone, especially Rose. The truth will protect me.”

“I hate to tell you, Mr. Vaughan—”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur. There are a lot of people in jail who said the same thing. Don’t be too confident in the justice of truth. However, I’ll do the best I can to uncover that truth.”

“Like I said, I have every confidence in you.”

“Just don’t be cocky about it, okay?”

He smiled sweetly at her, and Morgan couldn’t help but smile back. What was it about this man that just cried out to her?

* * *

Henry just couldn’t help himself, Morgan had long since decided. His foot was filled with lead, and emergency or not, he was going to drive like a man on a mission, so Morgan simply sat there and kept her mouth shut. When he pulled up with the usual screech of wheels in the precinct parking garage, no one even lifted their head to see what the noise was.

As they made their way through the corridor back to the squad room, Henry suddenly asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing. I keep telling you that, but you don’t believe me. We went for a walk in Central Park on Saturday, that’s all.”

“You and Vaughan went to Central Park?”

“Vaughan? What the hell are you talking about?”

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“I’m asking about you and Vaughan, but thanks for the update on the counselor. Central Park, huh?” Henry’s knowing smile emerged again, annoying the hell out of Morgan. “Why haven’t you arrested him yet?”

“You’ve seen the evidence. He had no gunshot residue on either his hands or his clothes. There was blood spatter on the soles of his shoes, so he would have had to be lying down at the time of the shooting. He was loaded with a hallucinogen, so I doubt he would have been able to focus on Rose, let alone aim the gun. And finally, there was only one single set of perfectly clear fingerprints on the gun grip and no place else.”

Henry thought for a moment. “And what has that got to do with the price of tea in China?”

“Think about it. If Vaughan had carried that gun all the way downstairs from the upstairs bedroom and held onto it all the way to the kitchen, wouldn’t the prints be smudged in some way and not perfectly clear?”

“Oh, I see, said the blind man. Okay, but what are these private conversations? Are you plotting something?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“No kidding.”

“I don’t know. Every time I look into his eyes, he reminds me of someone.”

“That’s easy enough solved. Don’t look.”

“Easier said that done, my friend. Easier said than done.”

“How did it go?” Markham intercepted Morgan at the coffeemaker and refreshed his beverage, while Henry went to their desks to collect their coffee mugs.

“Interesting. The secretary has a thing for her boss and hates the wife’s guts. The chief financial controller disappeared the moment McManus was killed and hasn’t been seen since. Suddenly this case has taken a new turn.”

“Why didn’t you pick this up before?”

“Because he was at work at the time of the shooting. His alibi was confirmed by two of his work colleagues.” Morgan hoped that was enough of an explanation to get them out of trouble.

“And what are you doing about it?”

Henry returned and proceeded to empty the coffeepot into their mugs.

“He’s proving to be very elusive,” Morgan said. “Finding him is next on my list of things to do. Grace Parker, Vaughan’s personal assistant, was able to track down an address for a vacation home. 143

I’ll contact Massachusetts State Police and ask them to check out his country home. Airports and train and bus terminals can be covered by our boys and transit police, but a week has gone by, and I think if he wanted to escape he already has. I’ll get a warrant and get over to his apartment.”

“And?”

“And we’ll check out his financial records. He certainly has the credentials to do the money transfer. The forensic boys picked up some fingerprints and DNA from the apartment for reference. We’ll see if he’s the second unknown fingerprint at the crime scene.”

“Good, very good. Well, you told me so.”

“I did?”

“She did?” Henry handed a mug to his partner.

“Sure, you said that things weren’t as they seemed. Do you have a crystal ball in that pocket of yours?”

“Sir, I would either have two or none at all. One pretty one is just plain showing off.”

“Go on, get out of here, Miss Funny Lady.”

“You don’t want me to be funny?”

“I’m laughing on the inside, Sergeant. Now both of you, back to work.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Morgan briskly brought her feet together, saluted, and did an about-face, earning a quiet chuckle from her boss as she made her way back to her desk. Henry, a grin twitching at his mouth, sauntered back to his.

“Come on, Chang. We’ve got work to do,” Morgan said. They now had evidence and motives that opened up a whole new avenue of investigation.

Morgan ordered a rush on the Perkins prints, and Grace Parker came by in the early afternoon to submit her fingerprints and to make a formal statement. It seemed Vaughan was being more than generous in allowing his assistant to come in during work hours. Morgan couldn’t deny he was being very cooperative with her. She only hoped her gut feelings about him were right. She contemplated the new twists to the case as she sipped her rapidly cooling coffee. It was bad enough to drink the cheap crap without it being cold, too. She walked over to the coffeemaker and looked into the pot. There was about half an inch of swill left swimming with dregs so she weighed her options. Take it and have to filter the coffee grounds through her teeth, make a new pot, or nuke the cold one she had. Not feeling particularly generous, she opted for the third.

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“Hey, O’Callaghan! Phone call on three.”

“Thanks.” She sat down with a thump in her squeaky chair and reached for the receiver in one smooth motion. “O’Callaghan.”

“Hey, Mo-Mo.” She knew that voice.

Morgan didn’t know what to feel. Anger, fear, confusion, and curiosity all wanted a piece of her. What the hell? “What do you want?”

“Not even a hello for your brother?”

“You got nothing to say that I want to hear, Brennan.” She returned the receiver to its cradle with a bang. A minute later the phone rang again. “Hey, O’Callaghan. It’s that caller again.”

“Tell him I’ve gone home,” Morgan said stonily. Velasquez looked annoyed, but she nodded. “I’m sorry, you just missed her. She’s gone for the day.”

Morgan caught the look from Velasquez. “Sorry. I’m not in the mood to argue with him.” Her brother’s call had stirred up a multitude of emotions in her, fueling the throbbing inside her plastered arm and the beginnings of a headache. Why did this have to happen now? Her mind was focused on the McManus case, and she certainly didn’t need any personal business interfering with her job. She pushed Brennan’s call to the back of her mind and turned her attention to suspects and motives.

* * *

Andrea sighed as she exited the courtroom, glad it was over. It had been a long, grueling day. She had been ill prepared for the case, and only her “creative lawyering,” as she liked to call it, kept the case going at all. Tonight she was going to have to put in some serious overtime to be prepared for tomorrow. She had stopped by Markham’s office, and he apprised her of the new discoveries in the Vaughan case. This case was more intriguing by the minute. She detoured to see Morgan—

professionally of course—to hear from her directly how the case was developing.

Andrea peeked briefly into the squad room and saw Morgan hunched over her desk and holding her head, her broken wrist tucked in tightly against her body. Her first instinct was to go and lecture her about not taking the pain pills. After all, that’s why the doctor prescribed them. Should she offer to come over tonight? Andrea could see that Morgan was in no mood for idle chitchat and 145

decided to leave her alone. No, maybe another night. After all, she had that court case in the morning.

A rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Detouring to her office to pick up her wallet, she decided to visit the deli around the corner for a salad and a frappuccino.

She emerged into the sunlight, the warmth of the day still hanging in the atmosphere. Two detectives were on the stoop taking huge drags from their rapidly dwindling cigarettes. At the bottom of the stairs, four uniformed officers were chatting, trying to decide where to meet after they changed out of their uniforms. To her the force seemed to be as much a social club as a public service. Tonight was the night Andrea had decided to have a heart-toheart with Joel. As much as everyone wanted this marriage, she just couldn’t go through with this sham. Besides, she owed it to herself to see where her relationship with Morgan would lead. It was risky, she knew, but her upcoming marriage was frightening the hell out of her. Maybe she should just move to Australia and be done with it. Andrea didn’t immediately react to the loud crack that whipped through the air. Pain exploded through her chest and her eyes widened in confusion. She looked down to see a splash of red expanding quickly from a hole in her blouse and her thoughts scattered to the winds as she crumpled on the top step of the station house.

Chapter 12

The loud crack echoed through the halls of the precinct. Morgan recognized it as a gunshot. The sound sent a chill through her. Almost immediately, chaos erupted. Chairs scattered as detectives leaped into action. The noise of panicked voices reached their ears.

Morgan grabbed her gun. She battled through the mass of bodies trying to get through the door. She felt a cold finger touch her soul. Her need to get out the door was overpowering. Galvanized, she shoved those in front of her through the heavy double doors of the station house. “Move it! Come on, come on.”

Getting out the door only put her on a crowded stoop. “There are too many people up here. Spread out.” But her order was lost in the multitude of voices already shouting.

It looked like a war zone. Police were scattered along the street, guns drawn. They took refuge behind parked cars, fire hydrants, garbage cans, and cement blocks. Morgan held up her arm, instinctively sweeping the area with her revolver. Excited voices yelled instructions to anyone who would listen. “Where the hell did it come from?” “Check the roofs! Check the roofs!” “What the hell?” “Come on, spread out!” “Get those civilians back now!”

Morgan’s attempt to process the chaotic scene was like moving through molasses. Her fellow officers ran up and down the street in slow motion. The heat of the day rose from the hot sidewalk and cast an eerie haze over the block.

Blood pounded in her head, pulsing strongly in a slow even thump, like a metronome beating out a rhythm. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Henry standing behind her, before she sorted out the police operation on the stoop in front of her. Someone was lying there, and her gaze was drawn to the person’s feet. Morgan couldn’t see a face because of the policeman hovering over the supine figure, but she recognized the legs. “Henry!” she yelled. “Get an ambulance! Now!”

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Her heart skipped a beat as Andrea’s body was finally revealed.

“No…” escaped her lips as little more than a sigh. “Oh, God, no.”

Morgan found her voice, this time the words expressing an emotion she wasn’t prepared to examine just quite yet. But it was an epiphany.

There was so much blood. Was Andrea still alive? Her white blouse had a blossoming splash of red below her left collarbone. Several tracks of red flowed down the white cotton to the stoop. The sticky residue had already formed a pool there. So much blood. Too much.

Her own pain was completely forgotten as fear spiked through her. She slammed to her knees next to Andrea. She checked her carotid pulse first and then pressed her hand against the wound. Her hand wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She frantically stripped down to her T-shirt. She balled up her plaid shirt and used it to staunch the flow of blood.

Morgan looked around the stoop crowded with police, all vainly searching for the shooter. “Move it. I can’t work. Give me some room here.” When no one moved, she shoved the legs of those around her. “Get the fuck out of here! I need room.”

“Hey… hey, Andrea,” she said. “Hang in there. Stay with me.”

Seeing Andrea like this brought tears to her eyes. Henry stepped in. “Anyone see the shooter?” He looked down at Morgan. “The paramedics are on their way. They should be here in a couple of minutes.”

“That’s too long.” So much could happen in a matter of seconds.

“Mo, if I could make it sooner, I would,” he said.

“I know. I know. I—I can’t stop the blood. I can’t stop it. There’s so much—” Morgan’s voice broke. She was losing it and Henry was a witness. Showing such emotion wasn’t a good move, but she couldn’t stop it.

“God,” he whispered, “she’s so pale.” He looked up and yelled over the din, “Anyone found where the shot came from?”

A young recruit spoke up. “Man, I didn’t see a thing. It wasn’t like there was somebody on the street waving a gun.”

“Hey, Lowenstein,” Henry shouted, “grab some uniforms and start your search of those buildings. Floor by floor. Fredericks, you take the rooftops.” There was a hesitation. “What’s your problem? Get moving. Now!” They spread out over the pavements.

“Chang!” Captain Markham said from behind Henry. “That shot sounded more like it came from a rifle. You catch anything?”

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“No, sir, I was inside at my desk at the time.”

Too many people still crowded together on the stoop. “Will you back the hell off?” Morgan said again. “We need room here.”

Anger warred with fear within her. “Go do your jobs!” She hoped the volume of her voice would draw attention to the human side of the scene. Andrea was down and losing blood rapidly.

“Sergeant. God. I was standing next to her. I didn’t even see her go down. Jesus,” Johnson, a rookie uniform, said. Morgan saw the tremor in Johnson’s hand that jostled the sleek black automatic revolver he was holding. Yeah, she’d probably be a little shook up, too, seeing one of her colleagues go down. What if the shot had been a little to the left… well, that was a scary thought, too.

Markham stepped into the turmoil and grabbed the officer.

“Johnson. Talk to me, man. What did you see?”

“Huh? God, I don’t know. I don’t know—”

“Ramirez. Maybe I can get an answer out of you. Did you see a damned thing?” Markham was nearly yelling.

“Nada, Captain. We were standing here one minute, and the next there was a loud crack and the counselor went down.”

Yelling and screaming echoed up and down the street. With the absence of traffic, it gave the whole scene an eerie feeling, forcing Morgan to narrow her focus down to the one person who needed her and try to eliminate all extraneous sights and sounds.

“Extend the search area,” Markham said. “Spread out and find him. I want this entire block covered. Search each and every building, you hear me? Don’t come back without something. Someone with a rifle couldn’t disappear that quickly. Find that fucking shooter!” The captain’s voice was barely heard over the cacophony as many voices offered as many suggestions. The crowd dissipated, each one of them taking one final look at Andrea lying on the ground before scattering into the street to check nearby buildings. But one detective remained still. “Morelli.” The short detective just stood there staring at Andrea. “Morelli! Back to work.”

“Huh?” Morelli looked at him as though he spoke Hungarian.

“Back to work.”

“Wow. What a friggin’ trip. Boom… bang… right in front of the shop.” He almost seemed to be enjoying the carnage.

“Get out of here, you freak.” Morgan spat the words at him, incensed at his insensitivity. The man was a goddamned asswipe.

“But, O’Callaghan, this is kind of exciting.”

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“Morelli, if you don’t get the fuck out of here, I’m going to rip your nuts right out through your nose.” Morgan looked down with concern. The color was draining away from Andrea’s face with each drop of blood.

Morgan struggled to lean in, taking her weight on her bad arm as her free hand kept up the pressure on the bloody hole in Andrea’s chest. She leaned in close and whispered, “Come on, Andy. I know you’re in there.” Her head lifted at the sound of the wailing siren.

“They’re nearly here, honey, hang in there.”

Andrea’s eyelids fluttered. “Hey. You called me honey,” she rasped.

Morgan fought tears. “Nah. You’re hallucinating.” She smiled as she looked deep into Andrea’s eyes. “How’re you doing?”

“Not too good, I think.”

“Don’t you leave me. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare.”

“No. Too much to live for.” Andrea passed out. Morgan could feel the eyes of Henry and the captain on her, but somehow she couldn’t find the energy to worry about it. She hoped her conversation with Andrea had been lost in the surrounding clamor.

The siren wail became a roar as the ambulance pulled up. Two young paramedics rushed out with their equipment.

“Up here. Quick!” Morgan mentally slapped her forehead. What a moronic thing to say. Of course they would hurry. She knew she was losing it when she considered waving her gun at them so they’d move faster.

“We’ll take it from here.” One of the paramedics unceremoniously pushed Morgan out of the way. Morgan was virtually immobile on her knees as she watched them work. She flinched as Andrea’s shirt was torn open and the buttons shot in all directions. Henry reached down and offered a lift. She extended her good hand, allowing him to haul her to her feet.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey.” What more could she say? “Cap—”

“Just go,” Markham stated firmly.

The paramedics moved quickly to staunch the flow of blood and load Andrea onto the stretcher. Her body gently rocked from side to side as they negotiated the steps to the sidewalk.

“This is the second time now,” Morgan said. She didn’t believe in coincidences, and this was more than coincidence. Somehow, it all tied in to Rose’s murder, so in her mind, she felt partly

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responsible for Andrea being hurt. Markham would berate her for thinking such a thing, but that didn’t stop her guilt.

“I know,” Markham said.

“We need to notify the DA’s Office immediately.” Morgan watched the paramedics load Andrea into the ambulance.

“Go,” the captain said. “I’ll contact the DA’s Office ASAP. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell her for me her work’s piling up and we need her back soon, okay?” he joked.

“Yeah, sure.” Morgan forced a wan smile. “She’ll probably want me to bring the work to her in the hospital.”

“Heh, it wouldn’t surprise me. Get going.”

“Later.” Morgan went down the steps to the waiting ambulance. She climbed into the passenger’s seat while one of the paramedics attended to Andrea in the back. What Morgan desperately wanted was to hold Andrea’s hand and will her back to health. Instead, she settled for listening nervously for each beep of the heart monitor. Suddenly, the murder case didn’t matter anymore. Everybody involved could go to hell.

Come on, come on. The vehicle was going way too slow for her liking. Every precious second counted with a bullet wound. Morgan’s legs jiggled anxiously. She was glad to see that the paramedic was only monitoring Andrea, which meant for the moment, she was holding her own.

The constant wail got on her nerves. What should have been a five-minute dash to the hospital had spread to twelve minutes, the last two crawling through a traffic jam.

“Get out of the way, you morons,” she muttered, drawing a chuckle from the paramedic sitting next to her. “Does this happen to you often?”

“All the damned time.”

“If they don’t move soon, I’m going to get out and start cracking heads.”

“We’re sort of busy with this one, and you want to give us more work to do?”

“It’d make me feel better.” At that moment, traffic started shifting, albeit slowly. By the time they reached the emergency room, Morgan’s temper hung by a thread. The stress and strain of the trip cut through her medication, and her wrist throbbed in time to her pounding heartbeat.

The triage nurse recognized her. “Twice in two days, Detective? You know, it’s not necessary to literally put your life on 151

the line every day.” Morgan scowled at her. The comment tweaked the last calm nerve in her body.

The nurse followed the two paramedics with the gurney. She rested a hand on Morgan’s arm as she tried to follow. “Stay put. I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I know.”

“No, I’m coming.”

“No, you’re not. Stay here. Go for a walk, get something to eat, or stay put, I don’t care, but you do not cross this point, you got me?”

“Fine. But if you’re not back within half an hour with something, I’m coming in after you.” She wasn’t going to be denied, bossy nurse or not. This was Andrea they were talking about, and Morgan was not going to be kept in the dark. She paced, she drank hot water that passed for coffee, and she would have smoked half a dozen cigarettes if she had taken up the habit, but nothing made the time go any faster. One minute seemed like five, and five seemed like an hour, and still nothing. She hated waiting, and with something this important, even more so. It brought back too many bad memories. Morgan finally took her impatience outside, looking for somewhere and someone to vent her anger on. This was not good, not good at all.

“Ah, there you are. I thought I told you to stay put.”

“You told me not to cross the line. What’s the news?”

“She’s going into surgery now. It might be a couple of hours or so before she’s out.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

The nurse just looked at her.

“Please,” Morgan’s voice softened. She would beg if she had to. “How bad is it?”

“The doctor asked me to pass on that the bullet went straight through soft tissue and out the other side. It looks like it nicked a lesser blood vessel, hence all the blood, but they really won’t know the full extent until they go in. If it’s straightforward, she should be out of the hospital in a couple of days She was a lucky woman.”

“Yeah, lucky.” Somehow lucky was not a word she would associate with Andrea at this moment. “So, what now?”

“There’s no point in hanging around. Go home, get changed, have a shower, eat. Phone the hospital in two hours. We should know more by then.”

Morgan blew air out through her lips. “Thank you.”

The nurse rested her hand gently on Morgan’s plaster cast.

“You’re welcome. She’ll be fine.”

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Morgan nodded, wanting to believe. Oh, God, I hope so. With all things said and done, the bottom line was Andrea had been shot because of her. The threat was now deadly serious. Morgan pulled her cell from her pocket and phoned the one person she could turn to in a situation like this. “Henry?”

Fifteen minutes later, Henry arrived. Morgan was anxiously pacing in the ER waiting room. “Thanks for coming,” she said with relief. “I’m sorry to drag you away from work.”

“Nah, we were just finishing up. It gave me an excuse to get out of there. What’s happening?”

“She’s in surgery. Looks like the bullet was a through and through. Pretty lucky shot. I—I don’t know what to do. I… damn.”

Morgan was barely hanging on. She ran her hand through her hair in frustration, her anxiety at least helping her forget the discomfort of the broken wrist.

“How about we get a cup of coffee?”

“But Andrea’s still in surgery. I can’t—”

“Suzie would kill me if I let you wait here alone. Come on, just a quick coffee then we can come back. I saw a Starbucks on the next corner.”

“Henry—”

“Do you want me to get it to go?”

She sighed and relented. “No, but let’s make it quick.” Morgan walked past Henry and was already setting quite a pace to the coffee shop.

After they got their coffee, they took a seat at a booth. Morgan certainly needed the caffeine at this point to clear her mind. Henry reached for his cell and phoned the precinct.

“Velasquez? Hey. Yeah, she’s fine. And the counselor is doing okay as well.”

Morgan stirred her coffee while Henry talked to Velasquez, listening to half of the conversation. “It was a through and through. So the bullet must be somewhere on that stoop. Find it and get it to ballistics.” There was a moment’s pause before he asked, “Even Morelli?” Then there was a hasty ‘Goodbye’ before he terminated the call.

“So what did she have to say?”

“She was asking how Andy was.”

“And Morelli?”

“Velasquez sent the best wishes of the entire precinct. I was just asking about Morelli.”

“And what did she say that brought that smile to your face?”

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“She said ‘especially Morelli.’” Henry smiled again.

“Sorry, I’m not thinking very straight at the moment.” Morgan lifted her hand and placed it on her head, gently brushing back the stray tendrils hanging over her face.

“That’s what I’m here for, Red. And when she’s out of danger, you’re coming home with me for dinner,” Henry said. “You haven’t seen the kids in a month. They miss their Auntie Morgan.”

“Thanks, bro,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome. Now come on, cheer up. She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” Morgan looked over at the man who had been her savior. “You know, you’ve been like a brother to me. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you.”

“Yeah, you owe me big time and don’t you forget it.” Then he added, with a big toothy grin, “And we’ll be expecting you for Thanksgiving… and Christmas.”

“Okay, okay. You’re on.”

“Of course, that invite will include Andy as well.” Henry smiled after he delivered the ultimatum.

“Since when? You really need to get a grip on your imagination there, buddy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Will you stop saying that? We’re friends, so your duty is done.”

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing’s going on. Why do you insist that something is?”

“Talk to me.”

“And what business is it of yours anyway, huh?” Morgan didn’t like the third degree.

“Hey, it’s me. We share everything, remember?”

“Um, that must be a new rule I haven’t heard about yet.”

“Stop stalling, Red.”

“She kissed me.”

Henry grabbed her good wrist, drawing her attention to his stunned expression.

“Last week, after I broke my arm and she came back to my place.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“The rest. You just can’t say she kissed me and leave it at that.”

“That would be kissing and telling,” Morgan said petulantly.

“Maybe you need someone to listen. Talk.”

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“Ah… wow, I don’t know where to begin. I’ve just never talked about this to anybody.”

“You and Andy? Of course not.”

“No, me. Who I am. I’ve kept it locked away, knowing who I am and not able to share it with anyone. Do you know how hard that is?”

“Pretty hard, I imagine,” Henry said, nodding in obvious understanding.

“That’s an understatement. And now you want me to express my feelings about another woman? You’re a guy, for Christ’s sake.”

“Who else do you have?” he said logically. “Just tell me what happened. If you don’t want to talk about the extra stuff, then that’s fine. Just give me the facts, ma’am.”

“I took her shopping for gym clothes, and it was sheer torture.”

He looked at her inquiringly.

“She was standing there in this pink leotard. God, what a sight.”

He laughed. “You sound pretty desperate.”

“Have you ever been tempted, Henry? It was like standing in the Garden of Eden with that damned apple shoved right into my mouth. Anyway, afterward she suggested dinner and we went to Vittorio’s. Of course, after that I had to make sure she got home okay.”

“Of course.”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then no more cheap shots, buster.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway. On the way home from dinner we had the hit-andrun incident. I had to get to the hospital, and I ended up taking her with me. Three damned hours we had to wait. Anyway, long story short, she made sure I got home safely, got me undressed and into bed.”

“What about the kiss?”

“You know, you sound just like a woman.”

“Stop stalling and spill the beans, boss.”

“I didn’t want to take my meds so she dared me. It was either the pills or a kiss.”

“And?”

Morgan shook her head.

“Aw, Red, come on. You get to the good stuff and then leave me hanging.”

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“I kissed her, took my meds like a good girl, and collapsed into my bed.”

“Together?” The intonation sounded hopeful.

“She was on the sofa. I was passed out in the bed. The end.”

“So what’s the problem, then?”

“Ding! Ding! She’s still engaged.” Why was she feeding into his argument? Maybe she was in the mood for a little punishment.

“So you keep telling me.”

Morgan was fast running out of new excuses.

“But she expressed an interest, right?”

“She was curious, Henry. She didn’t know what she was doing. Why are you encouraging me to split up a perfectly healthy engagement?” But Morgan knew better. Last weekend had opened up a life she thought she’d given up on.

“I’m doing no such thing. You’re telling me what happened, and I’m just asking questions. I didn’t ask you to kiss her. If I remember rightly, I said to be her friend. Besides that, what’s wrong with her kissing you?”

“She’s engaged and she’s not, well—she’s just not.”

“Not what?”

“Gay.”

“That’s goddamn bullshit, and you know it.”

Morgan blinked at him. Wow. Henry never cursed.

“You must have had some doubt in your mind after that kiss.”

He looked her straight in the eye. “I think you’re scared.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. What is it? Tell me why you’re running.”

“No.”

“Don’t you ‘no’ me. Why are you avoiding this?”

“Because it will never happen again.” Her one good hand came to her face, hiding the moisture pooling in her eyes.

“Again? What do you mean? Talk to me. What is going on in your head?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on in my head. It’s empty.”

“You know what I think?” Henry asked, crossing his arms.

“No. And I don’t want to know, either.”

“Well, you’re going to listen. Andy is the best thing that has come into your life, and you’re running scared. You’re pushing her away because she makes you feel, and you don’t want that. You want your life dull and gray, like it was the day your dad died.”

Morgan looked out the window to the world outside, wishing she were out in it rather than hearing Henry’s words.

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“It’s the intimacy, isn’t it? And I’m not talking sex here. It’s someone to share that piece of you that you’ve locked up inside you. You’re like a fairytale princess in a high tower guarded by this dragon. Andrea’s got to slay the dragon before she even has a chance of rescuing you.”

“Sex? I didn’t say anything about sex, Henry. You really should put that imagination of yours on a leash. Won’t Suzie be wondering where we are?”

“Don’t change the subject. We’re not moving one single inch until I find out what made you shut everything out like this. What happened?”

She turned to face him, battling to keep the secret. He grabbed her hand gently, “Come on, Morgan, tell me.”

“Someone I trusted implicitly destroyed my life. Destroyed everything I loved.” She shook her head. “Never again, Henry.”

“Why not? Come on, you have to let it out sometime.”

“Why?” She looked angrily across the table. “Why should I tell you?”

“Morgan, you don’t know what you want. One minute I’m your family, the next I’m a leper. I’m good enough to work on a case with you, but heaven forbid you let anyone into that heart of yours.”

“But, Henry—”

“No ‘but Henry.’ Whatever happened to you way back when is eating you up, and you need to let it out.”

“No, I don’t. Stop sticking your nose in my business.” As soon as the words crossed Morgan’s lips, she realized her mistake. Henry backed away stony-faced. “Oh, God, Henry. Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” There was only one thing that was going to save this. “All right, you want to know? Anyone I have ever loved has abandoned me. I always end up alone. Why start something that’s going to end up with me broken and alone again?”

Henry’s expression turned compassionate. “But you don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. I’ve seen it firsthand.” But she hadn’t told him the whole truth, an unspeakable truth that had humiliated her. So many times it had sat on her tongue; so many times she wanted the cleansing effect of telling someone—anyone—but each time, her own secret stood in the way. The revelation of one truth would reveal another and could very well change how he looked at her.

“There’s nothing you can tell me that will change how I feel about you. You’re my partner, Red. That’s sacrosanct.”

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“No, it isn’t. Not by a long shot.”

“Make some sense, will you?”

“All right, you asked for it. But it goes no farther than this booth, you got me?” She still had reservations about what she was going to say, but her emotions were rubbed raw. Henry was right. She thought of him as family, and yet she held everything back from him. The hot coffee bought her some time as she took slow, deliberate sips.

“Stop stalling.”

A gentle smile crossed her lips. She couldn’t fool him. “It happened a couple of years before Dad died. I had just joined the detectives.” Morgan had gone from an outgoing happy police officer to a brooding, serious detective.

“Three—three—” She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. This was harder than she ever thought possible. “Three men broke into the apartment one night while Dad and I were there.”

He reached across the table and held her shaking hand. “Go on,” he said quietly.

“They—” Morgan couldn’t say the words. She just couldn’t. The painful memories visited her in the long lonely nights when her guard was down. Visions would swim before her mind’s eye like it was only yesterday. Nothing in her police service manual had prepared her for the pain, shame, and humiliation she suffered that fateful night.

A crisp white linen handkerchief appeared on the table in front of her. Morgan looked up, not sure what reaction to expect. She should have known better. Henry had always been there for her, and he always would. “What’s that for?” Her voice broke. Henry lifted the material and dabbed at the lone tear sliding down her cheek. “Nothing,” he said.

Morgan tried to smile, but she couldn’t, though she knew he wouldn’t bring up her moment of weakness. “They made Dad watch as they tortured me. Afterward, one of them said, ‘Tell Larry that Angelo says thanks.’”

“I don’t remember seeing any scars.”

“Not all the scars are visible, my friend. It was more psychological than physical. That’s not to say they didn’t give me a few reminders of what they were capable of. They broke me emotionally, Henry, and I couldn’t do a thing about it because they threatened to make Dad an invalid if I did.”

“Why no physical torture? Not that I’d wish it on anyone.”

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“Oh, there was, believe me, but if it had been life-threatening and they put me in the hospital, it would have raised questions.”

Morgan hesitated as the familiar images flashed across her mind like a bad movie. “They knew what they were doing, Henry. They could do things to you that wouldn’t leave a physical mark but would tear you up inside. As it was, it was only Dad’s word against Larry’s, and who knows who was in the back pocket of Angelo. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Dad was a highly respected officer, but he sometimes let his thirst for justice get in the way. No, it was more a

‘friendly warning’ than actually eliminating an enemy. Now I have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, God, Mo. I’m so sorry.”

She knew the words were heartfelt because she knew Henry. He was that sort of a man. But if others—Morelli—ever found out, it would be the end of her.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He hesitated. “How did you cover it up?”

“Dad had friends in high places who protected us from the fallout. But he died the day I was admitted to a private clinic for treatment of post-traumatic-stress disorder. He not only lost his daughter but his partner as well.”

“Partner?”

“Larry was his partner. For ten long years, he had been Uncle Larry to me. We trusted him. He was considered family. And look what he did to us. He betrayed that trust, Henry. He sacrificed us to his mob buddies. While Dad had friends in high places, Larry had friends in higher places. What Dad’s friends could do, Larry’s friends could undo.”

“I’m kind of surprised that they let you work as a detective.”

“I was surprised, too. Dad’s buddies managed to keep everything that happened off my record, writing the time off as personal leave. Of course, when I returned, they had to put me through every test they could think of to see if I was fit for duty. Anyway, here I am.”

“That’s impressive, Morgan. I’ve heard those tests are murder.”

“I wasn’t going to let Dad down again. Thank God for small mercies.”

“You haven’t let your dad down yet, Morgan. But why did they blow Larry’s cover? I mean, why mention his name at all?”

“I’m not sure. It’s strange, now that you mention it.”

“Maybe they thought your dad already knew. Did your dad suspect him at all?”

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“He didn’t discuss his work much, probably trying to protect me. It didn’t protect me that night, though.”

“Maybe that’s what broke your dad. He couldn’t keep you from harm.”

“I didn’t blame him for what happened.”

“But don’t you see?” Henry said. “He blamed himself. His investigation led to you being—” He stopped.

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Yeah, I know.” The physical pain faded quickly after the incident, but the pain in her heart was still there. The world was full of ugly people.

“But Larry got his just desserts, didn’t he?”

“He disappeared. I haven’t been able to find him. And when I do…”

“You can count on me to watch your back, boss.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “Partner.”

“But you can’t spend your whole life alone, Red. It’s not healthy.”

“The counselor and I are friends. Let’s just leave it at that. Anything more is not worth the heartache.”

“How do you know it won’t work? I think it’s got a lot of potential.”

“You would think that. Is it worth my career or my sanity?”

“Is it?”

“I didn’t help my case by making that scene on the front steps of the precinct earlier today.”

“Stress does that to you. It has a habit of revealing your true feelings even if you won’t acknowledge them.”

“So, Doctor Chang. What treatment do you suggest?” All this serious conversation was dragging her down. She had her hands full with Andrea’s injury without adding misery about missing her dad on top of it.

“Let’s see. Take two Tylenol when you get home, get a good night’s sleep, and call me in the morning.”

She laughed. “Okay, can we drop it now? Please? It’s all a matter of trust, I guess.”

“But you trust me.”

“Yes I do. More than anyone else. But my personal life is not up for any more debate. You found out what you wanted to know, now let’s leave it at that.” She stood up, ready to return to the hospital. Never again, she told herself.

Yes, it was a matter of trust. Better yet, it was a matter of conviction. Any chance she thought she had for a relationship of

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any kind was in ruins. The intimacy that she longed for was gone. Love and sex had died for her because to her they required trust. Her whole life had been destroyed by someone she trusted. Since that fateful night, intimacy was only a word to her and no amount of therapy would change that.

Morgan had convinced herself that she didn’t need or want intimacy and was content with her life as a cop, but Andrea had changed all that. She had confused Morgan almost to the point of insanity. She had dreams of her. Long, slow, erotic dreams, inciting feelings and desires that she thought were long gone. Will she? Won’t she? Morgan had grudgingly decided to make their friendship work, but could she afford to find out whether she was still alive inside?

“If you say so, Mo, but I think we both know that our little Andrea is armed with a very sharp sword and a stout heart, and I think she’s intent on storming the castle.” Henry winked at her and stood to go.

Morgan was already on her way out the door while Henry paid the bill. Minutes later, they were back at the emergency department. She had been worried that something would happen while they were away, but her fears were unfounded. She and Henry hung around for another hour before the surgical nurse returned to report the operation had been successful. The round had missed the vital organs and passed right through the soft tissue. While Henry was questioning the nurse, Morgan wandered over to the window. Looking out into the darkness, she tried to get a handle on the events of the last couple of days. So close. How much further was this person willing to go with his threats? Could she afford to find out?

Henry interrupted her thoughts. “The nurse will allow us to see Andy briefly tonight. They’re about to move her, so if you want to see her, now’s the time.” Hospital staff wouldn’t let Morgan approach, but she watched as Andrea was wheeled along the corridor. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Come on, Red,” Henry said. “Come home with me. No excuses.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Morgan took a deep breath and released it slowly to bleed off her anxiety. Andrea was safe. “Let’s go see those kids of yours before they graduate.” Maybe the youthful exuberance of his kids could lift her spirits.

* * *

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“Where have you been, stranger?” Suzie was just so right for Henry. Vivacious and pretty, her wicked sense of humor complemented her husband’s own razor wit perfectly.

“You know, here and there.”

“Hey, kids, Auntie Morgan’s here.” Three tiny whirling dervishes arrived in front of her, cherub faces grinning with glee.

“Hey, my monsters. Come here.” Morgan allowed herself to be attacked and dragged into the living room where she ungraciously fell onto the sofa.

“What happened to you?” The oldest at seven, Sophie, was the smartest of the three and also the most direct. She wasn’t afraid to ask straight out what the problem was.

“I had a little accident, honey. I broke my wrist.” The other two, Jacob aged five, and Lucy, aged three, scrambled up her legs in an effort to take center stage on her lap.

“Easy kids. Auntie Morgan’s got an ‘owie.’”

“It’s okay, Suzie. They’re fine.” Morgan struggled with her one good arm and pulled Lucy onto one thigh. Henry helped with Jacob, placing him on her other thigh. “So what have you guys been into since I last saw you?” Morgan had to admit she zoned out after a minute or two of the detailed description of what kitty had done yesterday. Somehow, kitty just didn’t seem very important at the moment.

She didn’t know how she got through dinner, especially after surviving the food fight between the kids in the middle of it. She sat back while Henry and Suzie wrestled forks and other throwing implements off the combatants. Then they removed the offending food as fingers were substituted as catapults. Family. She sobered at the thought that she would probably not get to experience it. At the end of the meal, Morgan excused herself, eagerly seeking out her cell phone to call the hospital. She returned to relative calm. The kids sat quietly in front of the television watching some cartoon or other. Henry and Suzie were on the sofa, battlescarred and shell-shocked. They looked up expectantly at her return.

“Everything’s fine. She’s still in recovery, and it should be another hour before they move her to the ward. Um, thank you so much for the company. I have to get home to do a couple of chores.”

“What needs doing?” Suzie asked. “Can we help?”

“No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ve got to wash my hair. It’s really starting to—well, you know.” She grimaced as she reached to scratch a spot behind her ear.

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“Stop right there. You can’t do that one-handed, and we have a bath upstairs.” Suzie grabbed Morgan’s hand, pulled her upright with some strength, and dragged her up the stairs before Morgan could refuse.

She had to admit that Suzie’s help was a godsend, finally acknowledging that she couldn’t do it alone. Luxuriating in being pampered, Morgan relaxed into the hair-washing and enjoyed the strong fingers massaging her scalp as they washed away sweat and dirt. Maybe it wasn’t as sensual as how Andrea did it, but it was pleasant all the same .

Half an hour later, with her hair washed, dried, and re-braided, Morgan promised Suzie she wouldn’t be a stranger as she left. Henry insisted on driving her home, and she was in no shape to argue. As soon as she entered her apartment and her head hit the pillow, she collapsed into exhausted sleep. She intended to visit Andrea first thing the next morning, and she was prepared to run the gauntlet of doctors and nurses to do it. She needed to touch, to see, to be in Andrea’s presence. She had to be there.

Chapter 13

Morgan arrived at the hospital before visiting hours and was refused admission to Andrea’s room. Of course, she would be. It was before the sun was up, and it was only at the triage nurse’s insistence that Morgan got to see Andrea at all. Morgan wondered if the nurse ever went home. She seemed to be on duty day and night. Slipping into Andrea’s room in her new loafers, Morgan scuffed the floor slightly as the new footwear kept tripping her up. Between that and the new bra, she was feeling like a fish out of water. She stood at the foot of the bed, nervously shaking a bouquet of flowers in her good hand. An unused vase sat on the window ledge, and she shuffled around the bed to claim it. She filled the vase with water, removed the paper from around the stalks, and tried to arrange the blooms. She placed her small offering back on the window sill, pleased to see the color brighten up the otherwise drab white of the room. Carnations. Morgan had thought about bringing red roses, but she thought roses were too personal. For the umpteenth time, Morgan debated what exactly she was doing. She looked over at Andrea’s still body in the bed and studied her without the distraction of being watched. Morgan’s gaze grazed the mass of white gauze that covered Andrea’s right shoulder. She watched the soft skin of Andrea’s throat and saw her pulse throbbing in a calm, even beat.

Morgan involuntarily licked her lips at the thought of kissing Andrea’s throat and feeling Andrea’s skin against her mouth as she caressed it. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to dispel the sensual images, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t. It was at that point that Morgan fully understood the predicament she was in. If she tried to deny her attraction to Andrea any longer, she was not only lying to those around her, she was also lying to herself. Damn it, Henry was right. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

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Several moments went by before she was aware Andrea was looking up at her, a smile on her lips. “I didn’t know you had a key to my apartment,” she said in a quiet rasp. Morgan smiled back. “We’re not in your apartment.”

“Where are we?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

Andrea’s brow furrowed. “I am? How did that happen?”

“You had an accident.” Morgan nervously sank her good hand into her pants pocket.

“Accident?” Andrea’s eyes glazed over.

“You sort of… well, you got shot.”

“Shot?” Andrea looked confused.

“Yes. With a gun. You have a hole in your shoulder.”

“I do? Huh. Well, I’ll be damned.” Andrea turned her head to look at her shoulder. “How about that?”

Morgan stifled another smile but allowed relief to flood her senses. “That painkiller must be some pretty good stuff, huh?” She was almost tempted to plug herself into the pain meds. She could use a little break from reality right about now.

“I’m glad you came to visit…” Andrea’s words drifted off as her eyes closed. Her final words were slurred as she fell asleep, and Morgan barely heard them.

* * *

Morgan came away from the hospital feeling restless, anxious, confused, and tired. Extremely tired. All that was going on in her life was wearing her down. She stopped at McDonald’s for breakfast. Ha, what a laugh that was and most unexpected. Who would have thought her future was being built around two Big Macs?

As she ate, Morgan tried to think about work. Who was she kidding? Home, work—whether asleep or awake—her mind was occupied with thoughts of Andrea. This had been Morgan’s opportunity to shine at work, and nothing had gone right. She’d use this morning to get her mind back on track, to make some phone calls, organize interviews and statements, and basically get herself back into gear. She hoped.

She entered the squad room and headed to the coffeemaker, putting on an air of nonchalance at her tardiness. Looking around, she could see that her co-workers didn’t seem to care.

“O’Callaghan.”

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She looked up to see Markham beckoning her to his office. With coffee in hand, she made her way through the quiet room.

“Take a seat.” His voice was calm and friendly, one that she didn’t hear very often. “How’s Andrea?”

Morgan shrugged. “She’s about as well as can be expected. She’ll probably be in the hospital for the next two days, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before she’s back at work.”

“How are you coping?”

“Me?”

His steady stare asked more than he was voicing.

“I’m okay.”

“What do you want to do about the case?”

“Do?” She looked at him, puzzled.

“Do you want me to find someone else to take over the McManus murder now that you have Andrea’s case as well? I have the DA’s Office breathing fire down my neck about this.”

Morgan nearly said yes, but then she thought of Arthur. Her replacement would most surely lock him up as the first item of business. She weighed her options carefully, one life against another, and despite her heart crying out to protect Andrea, her head took the tougher route. “No. No, sir, I’m good to go.”

Judging from his expression, her response surprised him.

“Why?” She balked at the question. “What? Is there something I don’t know about?” He waited a moment or two for a response, but when none came, he said, “Maybe you’re a little too close to the case. Chang is your second. I’m sure he can handle it.”

She was caught between a rock and a hard place. The case was slipping though her fingers as priorities were changing rapidly, so maybe this would be the only chance she had to express her concerns. She steadied herself. “It’s not that, Captain. I can handle the pressure just fine. It’s just…” She hesitated.

“Come on, Sergeant, just spit it out. Off the record.”

“I’m worried about the Vaughan case.” She breathed deeply and willed herself to calm down. “I’m sorry, Captain. The evidence alone has eliminated him. No gunshot residue and the blood spatter suggest he wasn’t the shooter.”

Markham thought for a moment “All right. Are we dismissing him as a suspect?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Besides no new information to point to our killer?” she said, almost sarcastically.

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“What about the wife?”

“Either she’s just plain stupid or too smart for her own good. We’ve hit a brick wall in that line of investigation for the moment. The money trail’s gone cold, but everything’s telling me the location of the money is the key.”

“Okay, what about the shooting?” he asked, changing focus.

“This is twice now that Andrea has been involved in an incident that seems specifically directed at her. The first one we might have been able to overlook. The second incident was an attempted assassination. What the hell is going on?”

“I’m—hell, I don’t know.” Morgan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I, ah, got a call yesterday warning me to drop the Vaughan case,” she said, drawing a surprised reaction from her boss. “It’s a stupid move really, except to try to distract me. We just can’t drop the case. Whoever it is must know that. Anyway, it seems the hit-and-run was a warning to me, not Andrea. I can only assume that the guy doing it is stepping up his campaign with the shooting and that he wants my attention. If that’s his reason, then it’s a bit of overkill.”

Markham studied her for a moment. “So are we looking in the wrong direction here? Is this about you or about Worthington? And why in the hell is this the first I’m hearing of this?” His voice steadily grew louder with every syllable.

Morgan stared helplessly at him. What could she say? She should have told him. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly. “If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said that the hit-and-run was a fluke, but now…” She trailed off for a moment. “I can’t afford to not take the warning seriously. If he wanted to get my attention, he did.”

Morgan had another theory, but she wasn’t going to air it. Morelli had been acting strange ever since she had broken her wrist. Had he arranged the hit-and-run? He seemed to know things about it that she hadn’t mentioned, and despite his vehement denial, he seemed inordinately pleased about the outcome. Still, the shooting seemed a bit drastic even for him. Morelli was pissed at being made the butt of a joke. He wanted to shake the counselor up, not kill her.

“So, you’re telling me these two cases are connected? Andrea’s in the hospital because of you and the Vaughan case? And not only that, this asshole has the balls to do it on my own goddamned front porch!” Markham paced erratically around the room. “The fucking ADA, O’Callaghan. How could you let this happen?”

“Let it happen? Now hang on one goddamn minute. I’m not a friggin’ mind reader. I can’t be everywhere at once, or I would have 167

taken that hit for her. I’m just trying to do my fucking job, Captain.”

She enunciated every word with anger. “If it’s not good enough for you, you can—”

“Whoa. Slow down.” Markham sat back down in his chair and took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, “all I’m saying is that you ignore nothing, okay? Everything is important here. Everything. Including you. No Lone Ranger shit. I need to know. The DA’s Office needs to know.”

“Fine.” Morgan said nothing further, fearing she might say too much. It was probably already too late.

“We’ll get him and he will pay. Got me?” Markham’s hard stare seemed to nail her to the chair. “So the bottom line is if you don’t drop the case, Andrea’s going to pay.”

“It’s beginning to look that way.”

“Okay. So why her?”

“I really don’t know.” Why indeed? Hadn’t she been asking herself that question since the hit-and-run?

“Okay, so here’s another one for you,” Markham said. “If we still ignore his warning, then what?”

“I suppose he’ll try again.” The thought chilled her soul. Would the shooter take that final step and kill Andrea?

“I’ve got a couple of uniforms outside her room around the clock. I want you and Chang to keep an eye on things.”

Morgan nodded. “I’ll take care of the visitors’ list.”

Markham sat back. “Now, what about the Vaughan case? What’s the status?”

“I reinterviewed the daughter yesterday morning and cleared up a few anomalies in her statement. The final results from forensics are in on that as well as the report on the search through Mrs. Vaughan’s financial records. We know the money went into the account, but we don’t know where it went when it was transferred out of the account. We’re still trying to track down the accountant, Perkins. We’ll also begin background checks on the rest of Vaughan’s employees today. That should keep us busy for the next twenty-four hours.”

“You’ve got a long day ahead of you, Sergeant. And what’s your opinion on this case?”

“That someone was trying to stop Vaughan from changing his will, unless there’s another explanation that we haven’t found yet. We hope Perkins will clear up that point when we find him. Going on what we know so far, things are pointing toward Vaughan’s wife setting up her husband.”

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“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” he said with a little smile. She smiled in return. “But it’s like the entire case. It all just seems too perfect to be true. Only a fool would siphon off money like that just before she sets him up for a murder, and Connie Vaughan isn’t a fool.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this case isn’t over yet, and I think there are going to be some more surprises before it’s finished.”

“And Andrea?”

Morgan dropped her head at his frank perusal. “I was going to visit her on my lunch break.”

“Her family should have been notified last night, so they’ll probably be there when you go. Oh, and do the ‘department’s best wishes for the recovery’ thing, okay? And tell her for me, we’ll get him.”

Oh, just great. The in-laws, a small voice inside her whined. Did I just say “in-laws”? God. Clearing her voice, she said, “Yes, sir, I will.”

“Good. Now get out of here and catch some bad guys.”

As she moved to leave, another thought crossed her mind.

“Any news yet on the, ah, home front?”

His apprehensive expression made her wish she hadn’t asked.

“Not yet, but I should know in the next day or so.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thank you, Morgan. It’s good to have a friend here. Not many of them, I’m afraid. Keep that in mind. The higher up you go, the fewer friends you have.”

“About that, Captain. I’m having second thoughts.”

“Why? You’d make an excellent lieutenant.”

“And the farther up the ladder I go, the less chance I have to leave the office. I don’t know if I could stand being tied to a desk up to my neck in crap paperwork everyday,” she said with a wink.

“Why am I not surprised? All right then, Sergeant, I’ll put your application on hold. Let me know if you change your mind. Again.”

A quiet chuckle escaped his lips as she left his office.

Chapter 14

“Andrea, what on earth are you going on about, dear?”

This had been the moment Andrea was dreading. Her family had arrived at the hospital and was now occupying her room, waiting for what she was going to say next. But it was the next piece of news that was going to cause the most upheaval. She had contemplated waiting until she was out of the hospital in the next day or so, but she just wanted the whole confrontation over and done with. Besides, if it got nasty then the ward nurse could just toss her family out.

“Mother, look. I have tried and tried to accept the plans you had for me and Joel, but I just can’t do it.” Andrea gripped the sheet so hard her fingers hurt.

“Andrea, darlin’, what—why now? I thought we were fine with this.” Joel perched on the edge of the hospital bed and looked at her worriedly.

Andrea sighed with frustration. “We were, for a while, anyway, but didn’t you feel there was something missing in your life, Joel? Something important?”

He shook his head.

“No? Well, I did. And I still do. Coming to New York has been the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Andrea, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been shot, dear God. It’s made you confused. Once you’re back in Charleston, you’ll see everything is fine.” Andrea’s mother talked to her like she was ten years old.

“I’ll arrange some time off from the office, and we can spend it together. How about that, sweetheart?” Joel looked over at Jefferson Worthington and received a small nod in return.

“No. I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere.” Andrea emphasized each word carefully.

“Of course you are,” her mother said imperiously. “I don’t think you understand that you were shot, Andrea. You could have 169

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been killed. And what are the police doing about this? No, it’s too dangerous here. You’re going back to Charleston. Isn’t that right, Jefferson?”

Her father cleared his throat. “Andrea, sugar, your mother’s right. Don’t go making any rash decisions right now. You’re upset. You had a horrible thing happen to you, after all.”

“This is most certainly not a rash decision, Daddy. Coming to New York has been a wonderful experience for me.” She looked up at her father, taking in the large aquiline nose and graying temples. She always did think he was a handsome man, and judging by the number of society women who congregated around him at the soirees the Worthingtons held, other women thought the same thing. He was handsome, debonair, and very smart, and Andrea felt she was like him in a lot of ways.

“A wonderful experience?” Andrea’s mother said in exasperation. “Please, Andrea. Look at yourself. Do tell us why this has been the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Andrea gritted her teeth at her mother’s words. “I found myself, mother.”

“Found yourself? We didn’t realize you were missing,” her mother said.

“Now, Virginia, allow the girl to speak her piece.”

“Jefferson, she’s speaking sheer nonsense. When we get her home, we should look into some kind of therapy for her. She was shot. She’s obviously been traumatized, and they aren’t taking decent care of her here in this—this—place.”

“Mother, will you just butt out?” Andrea exploded. “I’m fine and I’m staying right the hell here.”

“Don’t you talk to your mother like that, young lady.”

“Well,” her mother said, “you have got the nerve.”

“Just stop it, both of you. I’m staying here. I can’t leave. Not now.” Andrea snapped her mouth shut, cursing herself for the outburst.

“Not now? What’s that supposed to mean?” Virginia glared at her.

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

“Something’s certainly important enough for you to stay here in this godforsaken place. If you even remotely expect us to leave without an explanation, you are so very sadly mistaken, missy.”

“Dear God, y’all are killing me here. I’m really not up to this right now,” Andrea said with a groan.

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“Just tell us why, and we’ll leave. It’s as simple as that.”

Virginia didn’t budge from her badgering.

“Virginia, maybe—”

“No, Jefferson. She’s expecting us to just accept her decision. I do not accept that. I will not accept that.” She turned back to Andrea. “You’re my daughter, and you owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing. For God’s sake, Mother, I just got here. Things are just starting to fall into place for me here.”

“Fall into place? And where does getting shot come in that plan?” Virginia’s voice hardened.

Andrea could see the signs. Her mother was about to shift into domineering mode. If she didn’t stop this now, her mother was going to take matters into her own hands and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“You seem to forget, Mother, this is my life, not yours. I have the right—”

“Have the right? And look what you’ve done with it.”

“I want you to stay out of this. Daddy?”

“Now, Virginia, dear, Andrea is right.”

“Stay out of this, Jefferson,” Virginia said in dismissal. Andrea watched her father back away once more. She felt sorry for him. Well, she wasn’t going to become him. She wanted her own life, and she would fight for it.

“Andy, honey. Just what are you talking about?” Joel moved farther up the bed and attempted to hold Andrea’s hand. Andrea pulled her hand away. “What I’m talking about, Joel, is that I want a life far away from Charleston, one of my own making, mistakes and all.”

“But I’ll be here,” he said.

“Yes, you will, but you’ll be bringing Charleston with you. Even if we get married here, there will still be the social gatherings, the expectations, the parties, and the families.”

“But you enjoy those things, honey.”

“I used to enjoy those things, Joel. Not anymore. My life has changed and I want more. New York City can give me more.”

“You…” Joel hesitated. “You didn’t find someone else, did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Joel,” Virginia butted in to say. “She’s been here only a few weeks. She couldn’t possibly—”

“I have met someone else, Mother.”

“How could you!”

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“I’ve discovered a friend, Mother. Someone who has shown me there’s more to my life than what I had. She’s become very important to me.”

“She? Did you just say she?” Virginia’s mouth opened in shock.

“She’s a person I work with, Mother. A friend. I’ve never had a real friend before.”

“Andrea, please. You’re just talking complete nonsense. Of course you have friends.”

“No, I haven’t. Most were simply the daughters of all of your society friends. And I hate to tell you this, but for all their designer clothes, expensive educations, ridiculous plastic surgeries, contracted marriages, and classless affairs, not a single one of them is worth a damn.”

“Don’t talk about your friends like that. You’ve been a part of their lives for many years,” Virginia said in a huff.

“That’s because I didn’t know any better. Now I do. Do you know what it’s like to have a real friend? Someone who knows all about you and accepts you just as you are? Someone who gives you everything and asks for nothing in return? That’s a special gift and not one that I’m prepared to give up.”

Virginia glared at Andrea. “What’s going on here? What’s she holding over you?”

“Good God,” Andrea said, with an eye roll. “She’s not holding anything over me. She’s done nothing but be a friend to me, a real, honest-to-goodness friend.”

“You cannot be serious here,” Joel said. “Andrea—honey—we can still go ahead with the wedding plans despite this slight hiccup.”

“Why do you think I came to New York?” Andrea tried to keep her temper in check.

“Obviously to be difficult,” Virginia said, her tone tinged with sarcasm.

“No. I did it to get away from you and your constant godforsaken harping. And in doing so, wonder of wonders, I have actually found someone that I enjoy being with. Morgan has been a godsend to me. For the first time in my entire life, I can finally be myself without all this pretentious bullshit.”

“Morgan?” Virginia said.

Andrea sighed heavily. “Yes, that’s her name.”

“Morgan. Sounds like a man.”

“She’s anything but that, Mother.”

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“So when do we get to meet this… Morgan?” Virginia said the name with obvious distaste.

“When I feel you can be civil to her. She’s done absolutely nothing wrong, Mother. She’s gone out of her way to make me feel at home here, and despite what might be going through your mind right now, she’s done so without expectation of a favor returned.”

“Now wait one minute—”

“Are you going to stand there and say it isn’t true, Mother?”

Virginia’s mouth slammed shut. “Just as I thought.” Andrea hadn’t wanted the confrontation to end up this way. “Please, all of you, I just need some space. I want to call off this wedding and see where New York leads me. Okay?”

Her gaze turned to Joel. “I’m sorry, Joel, but I just can’t do this.” She looked long and hard at him, trying to convey in a look what she didn’t want to say with words. Don’t think that I don’t know about your girlfriend, Joel. Don’t make me say it. Joel stared back and when Andrea’s eyebrow lifted he nodded.

“If that’s what you want, darlin’.”

“That’s what I want, Joel.”

“Well,” Virginia said, “I for one won’t accept this.”

“Then go home, Mother.”

“Oh. My. God. You cannot be serious.” Virginia’s voice dropped to barely a harsh whisper.

Andrea turned her gaze to her mother. “Completely serious.”

“I see. How much is it going to take for her to lose her interest in you?”

“Way more than you could ever offer, Mrs. Worthington,”

Morgan said as she entered the room.

Virginia Worthington completely ignored Morgan and instead kept her focus on Andrea. “What’s really happening here?”

“I don’t know. Call it fate, I guess,” Andrea said. “Fate has brought us together.” She paused for a moment. “There must be a reason for all this, and I’m going to find out what it is. So I need space to figure it out, and I’m going to take it, free of your interference.” Andrea turned to look at her father. “Daddy?”

“Yes, sugar.” Jefferson Worthington had been noticeably quiet during the argument.

“Do you have anything to add to this conversation?”

There was silence. “Well, honey, it’s a bit of a surprise, but I think I might have to agree with your mother on this one.”

“That’s it?” Sadness edged Andrea’s voice. “Doesn’t anyone want to wish me well?”

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“I’m happy for you,” Morgan said. “I might not agree with your choice, but I’m happy that you’re happy.” She looked at Andrea. “I’m sorry. I was outside the door and heard everything.”

Morgan placed the roses she had brought with her on the bed before she turned to face Andrea’s family. She extended her hand.

“Mr. and Mrs. Worthington, I’m Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan. Morgan.”

“Detective?” Virginia looked at her with some disdain. She made a move to politely shake Morgan’s hand.

“Yes, ma’am, with the New York City Police Department.”

Joel stood nearby and Morgan took it upon herself to shake his hand.

“So. You’re this Morgan person my daughter seems to think is so important.”

Andrea clenched her teeth and tried to catch Morgan’s eye. She hadn’t wanted to drag her into the family feud, but it seemed she now had no choice in the matter.

“Yes, ma’am, I suppose I am.”

“So—Detective—” Virginia put a slight emphasis on the word.

“This is how you do your job with regard to my daughter?”

“Mrs. Worthington, I would give my life to protect your daughter.”

Andrea stared at Morgan, hardly daring to believe what she heard.

“Then why didn’t you?” Virginia asked with barely concealed venom in her tone.

“Mother!” Andrea broke in.

Morgan shook her head at Andrea. “No, she’s right. I should have looked after you better.”

“No, stop it,” Andrea said softly, hearing the guilt in Morgan’s voice. “You couldn’t have done anything. The shooter waited for me. I would have been shot no matter what you did.”

“Shooter? He deliberately shot you? I think I’ve heard more than enough. Jefferson, we have to get her back home, now. New York is no place for her. This is ridiculous. She had a perfectly acceptable position back in Charleston, one that didn’t put her life in danger.” Virginia stood glaring first at Morgan then at Andrea, her hands on her hips. “And what are you doing about finding this offender? You should be at your desk doing just that and not bringing flowers to a sick friend.”

“May I point out, Mrs. Worthington that the sick friend is your daughter. You should be pleased that she has someone here to visit 175

her.” Morgan paused. “Yes, it’s a dangerous place, Mrs. Worthington, like any large city, but we—I—will do everything in my power to keep her safe.”

“Well, it hasn’t been very effective to date, has it?”

Andrea watched Morgan’s reaction to her mother’s verbal attack. She had known that pain on many occasions and could sympathize with the impotence Morgan must feel at not being able to fight back. Her mother had a way of humbling even the most venomous of enemies.

“Ma’am, it’s one thing to insult me personally, but to insult the police force is unacceptable. They put their lives on the line every single day to protect people like you.”

“Like me? Are you insulting me, Detective?”

“Mother—” Andrea tried to interrupt, tried to head Virginia off and prevent her further wounding Morgan.

“No ma’am,” Morgan said, and her voice held ice. “But you will respect the profession. You might not like me—”

“That’s an understatement.”

Andrea opened her mouth to speak then thought better of it. She was so proud of Morgan. Not everyone could stand up to Virginia Worthington’s nastiness.

“I will not allow you to insult the memory of all the officers who have died in the line of duty in this city. They deserve your respect and your gratitude. Surely even in the South there’s respect for an officer of the law.”

As Morgan drew herself up even taller, Andrea felt a little thrill rocket through her chest.

“Your daughter,” Morgan said, “has chosen an admirable profession at which she excels, one that is greatly needed in a city such as New York, and I’ll work day and night to find the person responsible for injuring her.” Morgan’s gaze touched Andrea before it returned to Virginia. “That said, Mr. and Mrs. Worthington, the department extends its best wishes for a swift recovery for your daughter. Two uniformed police officers are on guard outside your daughter’s room until she’s discharged from the hospital. After that, she’ll be under the care of the New York City Police Department until this person is caught. And punished.”

Andrea fought an urge to jump out of her bed and throw herself at Morgan for a hug.

“Andrea. If you’ll excuse me…” Morgan stepped toward the door.

“Wait,” Andrea said.

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Morgan turned.

“When will I see you again?” Andrea asked, almost plaintively.

“Some time soon. Get better. Quickly.”

But the tone in Morgan’s voice told Andrea everything. Now was not the time to talk of mundane things. Morgan left the room, leaving Andrea stranded alone with her family. She bit her lip. “I’m very tired right now. Leave me, please.” She barely controlled her anger as she spoke. She was in no shape for a pissing match with her mother.

“Andrea—” Virginia started to speak.

“Goodbye, Mother.” With those two words Andrea dismissed her family, watching as they reluctantly headed toward the door.

“I’d like a word alone with Joel.” She waited until her parents had left her alone with her now ex-fiance. “Come here and sit.” She patted the edge of her bed.

“I think everything’s been said,” Joel said stiffly.

“I suppose it has, but I wanted to say goodbye without my mother hovering in the background.”

“Are you sure about this, Andy?”

“Look, Joel, don’t try to convince me otherwise, okay?” He sat there downcast. “And don’t try that pathetic wounded look either.”

“You’re the one breaking the engagement.”

“You’re no angel either. You think I don’t know about Jennifer? We both know that this marriage was a sham. A big Southern society sham.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All those poker nights? Working late? Get real. Do you have any idea how many of our friends have seen you out with Jennifer? I’ve always known.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

“I didn’t care. Can you believe that? I was just keeping the families happy by doing this. I’d get a husband and children, and everyone would be happy. I was living a lie as well.” Her eyes bored into his. “At least I’m being up front about it.”

“It could still work.”

“Yes, it could if I wanted it to work, but I don’t. I’ve let things slide in my life for a long time now, but no more. I have a chance to make a difference here, and I’m going to take it. It’s my life, and I’ll do things my way.”

“So, that’s it, then.”

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“Yes, that’s it. I hope we can remain friends.” But the look in Joel’s eyes told her that might not happen for a while. “If ever you’re in New York, look me up.”

“Goodbye, Andrea.” Joel placed a kiss on her cheek and walked out.

Would that be the last time she would see Joel? Maybe time was the best healer of all. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she felt a great burden lift from her shoulders. She was free to live her life the way she wanted to.

Chapter 15

Morgan hadn’t wanted to deal with Andrea’s mother, so she retreated. Today had been one long uphill battle, and she was tired. When was this all going to be over? Andrea’s mother was right, though. Morgan hadn’t done her job. She had underestimated the threat, and now Andrea was paying for it.

She sat at her desk lost in thought and misery and didn’t know Henry had shown up until he said, “Hey. Morelli’s wearing a tutu.”

“Huh?” Morgan snapped back to the present. “Where?”

“I knew that would grab your attention.”

“What time is it, smart-ass?”

“Just after two. Where were you?” He looked at her with concern.

“Right here.”

“No, your body was here, but your mind was somewhere else.”

“Nowhere. I was nowhere.” With those words, Morgan rested her head on her good arm.

“So, how did the meeting with the parents go?”

“Humph,” she mumbled into the desk, hoping the unintelligible answer would satisfy him.

“That good, huh? I gather you tucked tail and ran?”

She lifted her head and rubbed her hand over her face in frustration. “No, I really didn’t. I was just tired of all the fighting.”

“Uh-huh. Now that’s the Morgan O’Callaghan I know. You don’t scare that easily.”

She sighed. “I thought I gave a good account of myself, but still Andrea’s mother was pretty convincing. I tried, Henry, but do you know how hard it is to fight a mother? And especially one like that? She came out swinging, and all I could do was block. Andrea would never forgive me if I really fought back. Her mom plays dirty.”

“Like questioning your competency as a police officer? A typical cheap shot.”

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“Hey, how did you know that?”

“Oh, come on. You take a lot of pride in being a good cop. And it shows. Wouldn’t have taken too much to see that, and I know that something like that would hurt.”

“No, her mother was right. I couldn’t even protect Andrea.”

Henry shook his head sadly. “Well, I don’t know. The way you’re acting right now, maybe she’s right.”

“Hey!”

“No, you run scared at the first sign of resistance. You must have known they would react like this, so what’s really scaring you?”

“Nothing,” she said in exasperation.

“Right, and you’re sitting here wallowing in self pity while her parents are making all sorts of plans to get her home.”

“Aw, hell. Do you have to tell me this? I feel bad enough as it is.”

“And so you should. I know you better than that, Red. You’re a fighter, so why aren’t you in there kicking butt?”

“Because that woman found every little crack in my defense. She questioned everything I had questioned myself about. How can I fight that?”

“Are you going to see Andy tonight?”

“No.” There was an air of finality in that one word.

“If that’s the way you feel, maybe you’d better admit defeat now. Heaven forbid you should be happy.”

Morgan glared at him, trying to intimidate him.

“That’s not going to work with me, Red.” He kept his voice low. “Now, if you’ve finished feeling sorry for yourself, let’s get back to work.”

They spent the afternoon poring over statements from neighbors, relatives, friends, and acquaintances of the Vaughan family. It painted a picture of an affluent family whose understated wealth was a notable feature of their public facade. Connie Vaughan was a typical token bride, spending much of her time shopping with her girlfriends. Morgan, however, did give her her due. When Arthur needed her attendance at an official function, she seemed to carry herself with dignity and aplomb. Despite what Morgan’s personal opinion was, it seemed Arthur had made a good match. Chelsea Vaughan, however, was proving more elusive. She lived in a surprisingly modest apartment, considering her station in life. To Morgan it was a matter of perception. Compared to what she herself lived in, Chelsea’s apartment was a palace. With her

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family’s wealth, however, Chelsea’s home was on the small side. Surely her father would have willingly given her whatever she wanted, so why was she trying to deny her wealth? Her alibi was another matter. It was shaky at best. While Chelsea claimed she was at a party then at home around the time in question, her friends couldn’t account for her whereabouts after two a.m. Had she gone home as she claimed, or was there something more to her story that Morgan still had to discover?

“Henry? I think Chelsea Vaughan needs a little more investigation.”

* * *

Despite her best intentions, Morgan found herself standing outside Andrea’s room, faltering at the last step when she heard voices coming from the other side of the door. She took refuge in the cafeteria until Andrea’s family had departed. A voice on the PA system announced the end of visiting hours, but she allowed a bit more time in case Andrea’s family took their time leaving. Twenty minutes later, Morgan paused outside Andrea’s doorway, taking a deep breath before pushing through the door to find Andrea sitting up in bed, a male nurse injecting something into her IV.

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked him. The nurse ignored her and continued to feed in the liquid from the syringe.

“It’s just something to help me sleep.”

Morgan looked the nurse up and down, taking in the calm demeanor, the crisp look of his scrubs, and the boots on his feet.

“Andrea, take out your IV. Now.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it.” Morgan reached for her weapon, but it caught in her jacket. Andrea made a move to pull the needle from her hand, and the nurse punched her in the temple. Reacting instantly, Morgan lowered her head and ran straight into the man, slamming him against the wall with her good shoulder as leverage. The vases rattled with the impact, and two of them fell and shattered on the floor. Morgan drove her knee into the man’s groin and sent him to his knees in agony. She moved to Andrea’s side, ripped out the IV, and hit the button for the nurse.

She tore the sling off her arm and prepared for another attack. The man tried to stand. One hand covered his groin, and he groaned as he straightened. He growled and charged at her. Wrapping his 181

arms around her torso, he trapped her damaged wrist in between their two bodies. He squeezed hard and Morgan cried out in pain.

“Now we’re even,” he snarled. He shifted his grip to reach for her gun, but the holster was safely tucked underneath her jacket. Now he was in the same predicament as she was and unable to extract her weapon.

“No, we’re not,” Morgan said through clenched teeth.

“Nowhere near enough.” The bear hug gave her very little room to move. She dropped her good hand and grabbed his genitals, squeezing as if her life depended on it. He roared in pain, but she held on until he released her. She jumped back to give herself plenty of room and knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to his head. Morgan cursed at the handicap of a casted wrist but managed to flop him onto his face and put handcuffs on him. A nurse arrived in the doorway, looked in, and disappeared. Morgan perched herself on the end of Andrea’s bed and held her wrist as pain surged up through her arm. She checked Andrea, relieved to see her pulse still beating strongly in her neck. So close. Again. How many more times would Andrea have to look death in the face only to be snatched back at the last moment? Her odds of saving Andrea decreased with each incident. It was only a matter of time before she’d finally be too late.

Two police officers arrived and stood in the doorway watching them. Morgan was way past pissed. “Where the fuck were you?”

“On duty, Sergeant, like we were supposed to be.”

“Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear the fight going on?”

“We didn’t hear anything,” the second officer said.

“The door was closed, Sergeant. It’s very hard to hear anything over the noise in the corridor.”

“You two listen to me. Anytime, and I mean anytime, someone comes into this room you will double-check their ID. You will make sure that one of you is in the room all the time that person is attending to the counselor. She’s not to be left alone with anyone in this room. Do I make myself clear?” Morgan’s voice got steadily louder as she made her point.

“Yes, Sergeant!” Both answered as one. “Sorry.”

“This is not over, you hear me?” Morgan was barely keeping her anger in check, her finger jabbing the air in front of their faces. The assailant had very nearly killed Andrea, and possibly herself as well.

Forcing herself to calm down, Morgan moved out of the way as a team of doctors and nurses arrived to examine Andrea. “Doctor,

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this man injected something into the patient’s IV.” Immediately, one team started working on Andrea while a second team dealt with the man on the floor.

Watching the medical team work over Andrea unnerved Morgan, so she moved out into the corridor. She reached for her cell phone and dialed a number that had been used way too often recently. “Henry, something’s happened at the hospital. How soon can you get here?”

Twenty minutes later, Henry arrived, a little disheveled. Morgan gave him a rundown of the attack on Andrea. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“I think so, thank God. She’ll have a headache from hell from where the guy slugged her. They’re still trying to find out what he put in her IV.”

“How did you know?”

“He was wearing boots. Why is it they never think about the feet?”

“Where is he?”

“He’s wrapped up ready for delivery. I enjoyed that bit,”

Morgan said with grim pleasure.

“And what about you? You look like shit.”

Morgan chuckled. If Henry said she looked like shit, she was in serious trouble. “Yeah, I guess I do. I’m not really ready for a fight yet.” She reached into her pocket and extracted a bottle of painkillers. She opened it, popped a pill into her mouth, and dry swallowed it. The pill eventually took effect, and the steady throbbing in her wrist slowly abated while they waited for the doctors to finish with Andrea. Markham arrived a short time later, a look of bulldog determination on his face. Congregating around the water cooler in the waiting room, three worried people held a meeting. “So, is this the end of it? They’ve got him in custody, right?” a concerned Captain Markham asked.

“Yeah, they do, but he’s not talking. Not even name, rank, and serial number.” What Morgan really wanted to do was find some nice quiet alley and beat the information out of him, especially after all the pain he had caused. It was moments like this that she wished she wasn’t so damned ethical. In a more sane state, she would have berated herself for even thinking such a thing, but right now, she only wanted him to suffer. “The end of it?” she said aloud. “God, I hope so. I really do.”

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“Officer.” Andrea’s primary doctor appeared in the doorway of the waiting room, raising his voice to get Morgan’s attention. He strode across the few feet between them with authority, a young clinician who seemed full of his own importance.

“What did you find?” Morgan saw him stiffen, probably because she didn’t use his title.

“You were right to pull the IV. The intruder was injecting her with morphine. If the patient had gotten a big enough dose, she might not have survived.”

Oh, God. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine.”

Morgan exhaled loudly in relief. Her mind played over the scene on the precinct stoop. Recalling the spreading red stain on Andrea’s blouse sent a shiver through her, reminding her how close she had come to losing her.

“Is she up for visitors?” Markham asked.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “but only for a few minutes. She really needs some rest.”

“Thanks.” Morgan was the first to move, nearly knocking over Henry and Markham in her need to check on Andrea. She stopped herself from running down the corridor to the room, but she knew she had left the two men behind in her haste. Morgan stared at Andrea from the doorway. She looked oddly dwarfed in the large bed. “Hey,” Morgan said, as Andrea sat up and smiled.

“Hey,” Andrea said back. “Looks like you saved me again.”

“Lucky I was in the neighborhood, I guess.”

“Definitely,” Henry said. “Though I thought you weren’t visiting her tonight.”

“So I changed my mind. So what?” She glared at Henry who grinned back at her.

Markham approached the bed. “Counselor, how are you doing?”

“I could be better. But considering what might have happened, I’m doing okay.”

“Good to hear. I guess you’re wishing now that you had stayed in Charleston, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know. New York has its charm.” She glanced over at Morgan before focusing again on Markham. “What’s going on?”

“Morgan nailed him and we have him in custody. That should be the end of it,” Markham said, though Morgan thought he didn’t sound as sure as she would have liked.

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“I’ll be glad to get back to work,” Andrea said before she smiled up at him.

“Take your time. I got hold of the district attorney. He’s been out of town, as I’m sure you know. It took a bit of fast-talking to keep him from running off to the airport in his jammies. I informed him we have the perpetrator in custody. He’ll be in to see you tomorrow. And don’t worry about work. It will still be there when you get back. Your recovery comes first.”

Morgan watched Markham, amazed. No one at the station house ever saw this side of him. They usually got the snarling, impatient career cop who wanted answers yesterday. Her respect for him jumped a couple notches as he patted Andrea’s hand.

“O’Callaghan, Chang, I’ll see you two in the morning. And don’t worry about escorting the suspect down to the station house. I want that pleasure myself to make sure he’s safely tucked in for the night. I’ll leave the two officers outside the door for the evening to finish their shift.”

“If you don’t need me, sir, I’ll stick around here for a little while,” Morgan said, somewhat tentatively.

“If you think you should.” Markham winked at her. “Just don’t be late for work.”

“I’m not staying all night, just a few minutes.”

Henry smirked and she glared at him again. She motioned him to leave and swore she heard a chuckle drifting down the corridor. She sat carefully on the edge of the bed, within Andrea’s reach.

“So,” Morgan said. This close, she suspected Andrea could read her like yesterday’s newspaper, seeing all her secrets and fears. Andrea touched her cheek.

“Why did you come back tonight?” Andrea asked quietly.

“I was just visiting you. What’s wrong with that?”

Andrea studied her, raising an eyebrow.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

Andrea waited, her expression not changing.

“Okay, okay. I couldn’t stay away from you. You want to make something of it?”

There was an almost imperceptible shake of Andrea’s head. Morgan nervously changed the subject. “How are you really feeling?”

“The doctor gave me a shot for the pain, so I’m not feeling much right now.”

“Wish he’d given me a shot,” Morgan muttered.

“What?”

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“Nothing. You seem to be in better shape than I am at the moment.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Just got banged up a little. I’ll live.”

“Morgan! We need to have you looked at.”

“No. I’m fine. Seriously. He got the drop on me, that’s all.”

“That’s not like you.” Andrea frowned.

“Known me a few days, and you know that, huh?”

“I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“He surprised me because I was thinking about something else.”

“What? Where was your mind?”

“With you.” Morgan took a deep breath. “I was with you.”

“Really?”

Morgan’s heart jumped in her chest as a shy smile crossed Andrea’s lips.

“Wow,” Andrea finally said.

“Wow? That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Andrea whispered. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Morgan repeated. “I guess that says it all.”

“Oh, yeah.”

They sat quietly for a moment. A line in the sand had just been removed by mutual consent. Andrea broke the silence. “So, what happens now?”

“I’ll have the pleasure of interrogating our little friend tomorrow—”

“Not about that.”

“Huh? Oh. Um, nothing’s going to happen. At least not until this case is over.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need the distraction right now.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Morgan knew she’d said the wrong thing.

“A distraction? I’m a distraction?”

“No—yes. God, woman. See what you do to me? I can’t think straight around you. Can’t we just wait until all this is over? Please?”

“What? You mean to tell me you finally say yes, and I’ve got to wait? My mother put you up to this, didn’t she?”

“Good God, Andrea.”

“No. This is so not fair, Morgan. You’re doing this to drive me crazy, aren’t you?”

“I most certainly am not.”

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“Well, regardless, you’re succeeding.”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? This is one of the most momentous days of my life, and you want me to calm down?”

What could she do? Andrea was at full steam, and Morgan couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “Andrea—”

“Yeah, I’m going to come unglued here. Is that what you want?” Andrea was talking as though Morgan wasn’t even in the room. “God. Why am I so tired?”

“Andy—”

“I’m stuck in this uncomfortable as all hell bed, and she finally — finally—tells me what I want to hear, and I can’t do a single solitary goddamn thing about it.” Andrea persistently worked herself into a bundle of nervous energy.

“Andy!”

“Huh? What?”

“Will you calm down? You’re going to blow a gasket. Then where will you be?”

“In a hospital, I guess. Just as well I’m here already, isn’t it?”

“Are you sure it’s over between you and Joel?” It was probably not the ideal time to bring up the question, but what she did next depended on an answer.

“Yes, but I thought you heard that.”

“I did. I just wanted to make sure,” Morgan said nervously.

“I’m sure it’s over, and Joel knows that. Is that good enough for you?”

“I suppose so.”

“Why did you want to know that?”

The words might have been innocent, but Andrea was closely watching her. They both knew what this meant, and Andrea didn’t seem horrified at the thought. In fact, if anything, she was encouraging her. Was Morgan up to this?

“I just wanted to make sure there was no fiance hanging around in the background, that’s all.”

“Really? I would never—”

“And neither would I, that’s the point.” Why did they have to discuss this? Morgan was never any good with expressing her feelings.

“So, what does that mean? You won’t?”

“Not won’t, at least I don’t think so.”

“Make some sense, woman!”

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“I wish I could. Oh, Lord, I wish I could. I want this to happen, I really do, but there are some things I have to sort out in my head before that. But I don’t know how. You make me feel things that I feel I shouldn’t feel, Andrea, and it’s confusing me to the point of insanity. So, if I’m not making much sense to you as far as my intentions go, it’s not you it’s me.”

“So, is that a no?”

Morgan sighed. “Look. I didn’t say no, did I?” She waited for confirmation from Andrea before she continued. “It’s a matter of

‘when’ not ‘if.’”

“I guess so.” Andrea’s lips turned down, presenting a very cute pout, and Morgan laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Morgan knew this was one argument she wasn’t going to win.

“Yeah, but only because you look so adorable when you pout.”

“Pout? I do not pout.”

“If I seem a little skittish at times I’m just asking you to be patient with me, okay?”

“Okay.” But there was disappointment in Andrea’s voice.

“Uh-huh.” She finally got to use the phrase that had haunted her the last few days. “Now, if you don’t behave yourself, I might be forced to do something drastic.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I was going to kiss you good night…”

“Really? An honest-to-goodness kiss with no strings attached?”

“Will you stop all this ranting and raving?”

“Okay. But be gentle, okay? This is my first real kiss from you. I’m used to stubble.”

“Do you want me to go home and grow a beard?”

“Hmm.” Andrea’s expression was thoughtful, as if she were seriously considering the idea.

“I might be able to do many things, Counselor, but growing a beard isn’t one of them.” Adrenaline zipped through Morgan’s veins at Andrea’s response. It was turning out even better than she had ever imagined. It looked like her solitary life was coming to a close, and despite her misgivings, she wanted it so badly she could nearly taste it. Morgan was simply content for the moment to ride the wave of excitement at the prospect of a relationship with Andrea. She dismissed all the problems that would arise for both of them, not only with regard to work but also in their personal lives. As for her past, she was going to work damned hard on getting around that, too.

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Morgan didn’t let her thoughts show, though she was feeling a lot of things at that moment. Apprehension, nausea, excitement, and sensual heat. “All right, then.” She leaned toward Andrea, barely brushing her lips with her own.

“That’s it?”

Morgan smiled indulgently, but she wasn’t prepared for Andrea’s hand to grip the back of her neck and draw her into another kiss. Neither wild nor frantic, this kiss was an expression of commitment to the journey the two of them were about to embark on. Gentle, slow, thorough, and loving.

Morgan withdrew, her eyes still dreamily closed. Finally she opened them to see Andrea’s reaction. “So?”

“So? You want a critique or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Morgan said jokingly. But she was deadly serious. What if Andrea didn’t like it?

“Ah, I see. You’re waiting for me to run screaming to the hills, aren’t you?”

“No. Well, maybe a bit.”

“I’m still here.”

“Yes, you are.” Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. Did she dare hope she could finally be free from memories of that night all those years ago? Could Andrea banish the demons to the darkness, where they would remain as fading phantoms afraid to come out into the light?

“So, Darth Vader, are you going to bring me over to the Dark Side?”

“Luke,” Morgan shot back, “you will feel the power of the Force.”

Andrea chuckled. “If that was anything to go by, I’ll gladly follow you anywhere, my Lord.”

Morgan glanced at her watch and saw how late it was. “I guess I’d better go and let you get some rest.”

“I suppose so. When will I see you again?”

“I’ll probably be busy tomorrow with our little perpetrator.”

Morgan hadn’t wanted to broach the subject of Andrea’s family, but she did want Andrea to know why she wouldn’t see her too often in the hospital. “Besides, your family will be here to keep you company.” She fidgeted with the blanket on Andrea’s bed.

“My family? You’re not scared of them, are you?”

Morgan couldn’t look her in the eye.

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“Just ignore my mother, okay? She still thinks she has a right to make my decisions for me. As far as I’m concerned, she can go to hell. It’s my decision, and I’ve made it. Okay?”

“Okay.” But Morgan was still uncertain.

Andrea squeezed her hand. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. My mother just knows how to read people and how to exploit the hell out of it, too.”

“But she was right.”

“No, she wasn’t. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because I got a warning call the day after the hit-and-run, and the caller said he was using you to get to me. It’s about the Vaughan case, Andrea. He’s hurting you to make me drop the case or mess it up. Who the hell knows?”

“Really? Somebody called you with that?”

“Yeah,” Morgan said dully, “so I’m at fault here and I can’t protect you.”

“But don’t you see? You caught him. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

“But look what he’s done to you already.”

“Please. A little scratch here, a little hole there. But what he has given me is far, far more than I could have ever imagined.”

“What?”

“He gave me you,” Andrea said with mock exasperation. “It was worth it, if it made you realize what we could have. Don’t you see that?”

“I would rather have kept you in one piece,” Morgan said.

“And miss out on all the pampering you’re going to bestow on me? Not likely.”

Morgan smiled. “I’ve got to go.”

“Can you visit tomorrow night?”

“I have a ton of stuff to do. Maybe.”

“I’ll get my parents out of here quick, okay?”

Morgan half laughed. Andrea could read her pretty well.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Chapter 16

Morgan arrived at work the next morning, fresh and full of energy. She had gotten her first decent sleep in a long, long time, and she finally realized what had been missing from her life all these years. She was happy.

Today was going to be a busy day. A call from the Massachusetts State Police brightened her morning with news of Perkins’s apprehension. His extradition back home would occur as soon as someone could go get him. He had offered no resistance. In fact, he was rather surprised by the whole thing. Forensics confirmed that the second set of mysterious prints at the crime scene belonged to Perkins, so he would have some explaining to do when he was finally in NYPD custody.

At last, Morgan had the first big break in the case, and she hoped it would answer some burning questions. Now she had to get Andrea’s attacker to talk.

In the interrogation room, she faced her assailant, a man of average height and weight whose demeanor reflected anger and violence. He hadn’t said a word since he’d been arrested, steadfastly refusing to answer even when asked if he wanted a lawyer. Despite that, Morgan arranged for a public defender to represent him. There was no way in hell she was going to allow this bastard to walk on a technicality.

Morgan already knew whom she was facing. Henry had retrieved his police file, and it was close to an inch think. But she began the interrogation with an easy question. “You can at least give me your name,” she said.

Four people crowded into the sparsely furnished room. Besides the perp and his lawyer, and Morgan of course, Henry hovered in the shadows near the prisoner, arms crossed. Morgan glanced at him, safe in the knowledge that they were all well protected should the prisoner decide to do something unexpected. While she was quite capable of handling herself, Henry was an expert in martial 190

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arts. In fact, now that she thought about it, he probably let her win an occasional bout just so she didn’t sulk about it. That was the sort of guy he was. But even if the prisoner managed to somehow get by both her and Henry, there were two officers on guard on the other side of the door, well aware of the man’s violent nature.

“Screw you.” His deep menacing voice struck a chord in Morgan. This was the guy who had called her with the warning. It had to be.

“Hmm. Do you belong to the ‘screw you’ family of the Bronx or the ‘screw you’ family of Flushing?” Morgan turned her attention to the young lawyer from Legal Aid. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind your client that his cooperation will greatly help his cause, do I?”

“I’m sorry,” the attorney said. “It seems he doesn’t wish to help either you or himself. I can only remain to guard his interests.” He glanced at her sling. “We wouldn’t want you beating on him, would we?”

Morgan feigned shock. “As if I could with one hand tied behind my back.” She grinned then addressed the assailant. “Listen up. There’s nothing in this for you if you don’t cooperate. Only a long prison sentence. You failed and now you pay.”

His stony expression told her what he thought of her suggestion.

Her eyes swept to the shadowed wall behind the prisoner. Henry’s dark eyes glittered menacingly in the muted light, making him look like a deadly panther about to pounce. If she failed, he was ready to strike.

Morgan opened the bulky file and scanned the contents of the arrest sheets sitting on top. “Well, well, well.” She looked up at the stony-faced accused. “Lenny, Lenny, Lenny. Those fingerprints of yours certainly have a story to tell. My, my, my. We’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t we? Breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, armed robbery, extortion, and the list goes on and on. You’ve been busy, Lenny. What’s wrong? Couldn’t decide on a career?”

No sound came out of Lenny.

“Oh, my fault,” Morgan said. “Excuse me. You’re from the

‘screw you’s‘ of Brooklyn.”

She smiled at him and studied him with interest. His height and build contradicted his chosen profession of thug, which was probably why he managed to slip by the officers at the hospital. He was ordinary-looking, and as such, he could pass for anyone.

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“What? So you playin’ ‘bad cop’ or ‘bad at bein’ fuckin’ funny cop’?” he asked sarcastically.

“The mute speaks. Guys, it’s a miracle. Somebody call the Pope.”

“I got fuckin’ nuthin’ to say to you.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Lenny. You’ve got lots to say.”

“You think you going to make me talk? Whatever, bitch.” He looked over at Henry standing against the wall. “She any good in the sack?” When he got no answer, he said, “Not interested in you, or just dudes in general? She a fuckin’ lezzie?” Looking Morgan up and down, he laughed out loud.

“Why did you target the assistant district attorney?” Morgan swallowed her anger and leaned on the table trying to make eye contact with her perp.

“Who?”

“You know damned well who.”

“No idea. Whoever done it, she probably deserved it.” Morgan bristled at the comment. “She your bitch or sumthin’?” He leaned forward. “So how’d she die? Slow and in pain? Did you watch the life drain out of her, huh? Wish I was there to see that.” Lenny grinned, showing nicotine-stained teeth.

Morgan had tried very hard to keep control, but he kept pushing her buttons. Swiftly she was behind the table, leaning in so close to him that she could nearly hear his heartbeat. “You listen here, you piece of shit. That how you want to play it? Huh?” She looked at her cast. “Don’t let this fool you, Lenny. I could kill you ten different ways with this cast on.” Her voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Don’t fuck around with me.” She sensed the attorney shift in his seat and Henry move away from the wall. She held up her hand, taking a moment to settle herself. Lenny smirked in amusement. “Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“O’Callaghan,” Henry muttered. “Outside.”

She left the room and stood in the corridor facing him. “What? I’m working here.”

“Maybe you should let me have a go at him. You’re too close to this.”

“No. He’s mine.”

“And you’re losing your objectivity.”

“Don’t tell me my job.”

“Well, somebody needs to.” Anger tainted his words. “You’re playing right into his hands.”

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“That prick shot Andrea.”

“I know that, but you’re reacting in there, just like he wants. He’s going to keep baiting you until you snap.”

“Oh, no he won’t. I won’t let him.”

“It’s already happened, boss. He’s got you pissed.”

“I said I’m fine.” She enunciated each word with precision. He looked long and hard at her as though trying to ascertain her state of mind. “Okay.” He walked past her back into the interrogation room.

Morgan was praying she could keep herself together to finish this. She followed Henry back into the room to continue the interrogation.

“So, Lenny, what’s your interest in the McManus case?”

Morgan really didn’t expect him to answer. He had taken his one chance to throw her off, a chance that nearly worked. But now she was back on track, and she plowed on in the hope that he would give something away. “There’s none that I can see, so that leaves me with another question. Who hired you?”

His dour expression told her what he thought of her questions and the likely response she was going to get out of him.

“Oh, come on. Your boss is going to hang you out to dry. You want to go down for this by yourself?” She tried a different tactic.

“Okay then, why the ADA? Why not, say, the detective who works with me?”

He glanced momentarily over his shoulder at Henry.

“What does the ADA mean to you, Lenny?”

A muscle twitched on Lenny’s face.

The veritable light bulb went on over her head when Morgan realized the deception. “It was about her all along, wasn’t it? The ADA was your intended target. Why? Who wants her dead?”

Morgan sorted through a number of scenarios. “Has this got anything to do with the Vaughan case? Is it a coincidence or a smoke screen?” Her face hardened. “You will talk to me. I’m well aware that prison doesn’t scare you, but how you get there is my responsibility, and I can get kinda nasty.” She saw the lawyer move in his seat. “Hold up,” she said to him. “I’m not threatening Lenny. I’m just saying that sometimes paperwork gets misplaced. Sometimes guys have to serve time in more unpleasant surroundings than intended. Things happen that make that road to prison long and unpleasant. Wouldn’t Lenny like to get settled back into his old routine as quickly as possible? See some old friends, meet some new ones, get his connections in order?”

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The prisoner didn’t respond.

“No? Well, back to your cell, then. Let’s hope I can find time in my busy schedule to complete your paperwork for arraignment.”

Lenny stared at the barred window. He was clearly not going to talk.

“This is your last chance, Lenny,” Morgan said. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Nothing.

Morgan glanced at his lawyer, who simply shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, it’s your funeral. Leonard Michael Kamanowicz, you will be charged with the attempted murder of Assistant District Attorney Andrea Worthington and with the assault of a police officer. That would be me.”

He looked at her then.

“Yeah, Lenny, she’s still alive. Three times and you still couldn’t kill her. Pathetic.”

“You have no evidence here for the other two incidents, Sergeant,” the public defender said.

“You’re right. That’s why, for the moment, we’re leveling charges for the last attack I was witness to.” Morgan leaned over the table, resting her good hand on the wood. “But, Lenny, my friend, I’m very persistent, and I will find that evidence to pin the other two attempts on you. You won’t be seeing sunlight for a long, long time.”

Morgan gathered the papers from the file and left. She returned to her desk where she sat, frustrated. Someone wanted Andrea dead. But who? The thought that someone wanted to harm her was just incomprehensible in Morgan’s eyes.

This had all started with the McManus case. Were the attempts on Andrea’s life tied in or unrelated? Morgan pondered all the twists and turns the McManus case had taken. She picked up the phone and started making calls to continue the elusive trail of the murder. Three hours later, after a number of long conversations, she’d gathered some useful information. She began a follow-up she hoped would yield the results she wanted.

Her direct phone line rang. “Fifth Precinct, Detective Sergeant O’Callaghan.”

“I need to talk to you,” her brother Brennan said forcefully.

“You never felt the need before. I don’t see why I should have to listen to you.”

“Now, look—”

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“No, you look, Brennan. You were just fine ignoring us all these years. I couldn’t care less about what you have to say now.”

“Mo—”

She slammed down the receiver, drawing a questioning look from Henry.

“Of all the… Who the fucking hell does he think he is?”

Morgan shuffled papers around her desk. She glanced over at Henry, who had been quietly following up on loose ends in the Vaughan case all morning, eliminating most of the employees on the list. The only real suspects they now had were Grace Parker and Roland Perkins, but a meek secretary and an even meeker accountant just didn’t seem cut out to kill anybody.

“Hey, are you stopping for lunch?” Henry asked.

“I guess I should. Not much more I can do for now.”

“You want to tell me what has you so fired up?”

“As far as that phone conversation goes, no, I don’t.”

“Then how about a BLT on whole wheat? Oh, and let’s not forget the latte.”

She stared at him. “You’ve taken up mind-reading now, huh?”

“It doesn’t take much to read your mind, Red. You’re an open book.”

“I can see I’m going to have to put it under lock and key, then.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’ll be a lot happier knowing you aren’t in there running amok through my personal thoughts.” She smiled at him, glad for the camaraderie. “Come on, let’s get that lunch.”

They returned from the deli loaded with food, both content to sit at their desks and go over the case while munching on their sandwiches. As Morgan filled out one of the many forms for her health insurance claim, Henry teased her mercilessly when she put down her age.

“That’s my real age, pal.”

“Really? I thought you were much older.” He ducked the pencil she threw at him.

“Very funny.” She looked at him, suddenly realizing how lucky she was. He was a gentle, caring soul who had guided her through a very rough patch in her life. Perhaps she should do something for him. Maybe a trip to Disney World or something was in order.

“What’s the matter?”

“Huh?” She hadn’t realized she’d been staring off into space.

“Look, I was just kidding. I knew how old you were, Red.”

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“Nah, it’s not that. I was just thinking.” Maybe it was time to let him know that his efforts had not gone unnoticed. “Henry—”

She faltered.

“Uh-oh. Should I be scared?”

“Maybe. I just wanted to say…”

“Don’t say it.”

“But I think I need to. I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve put up with a lot of my shit in the past, I know that, and you deserve a medal. You’re my best friend. You’ve taken care of me when I didn’t take care of myself. I appreciate it.”

Henry’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“This last week,” Morgan said, “has been… well, I had an epiphany and I have you to thank for it.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. She returned her attention to the paperwork, valiantly trying to regain her composure. This emotional stuff was hard work.

“You’re welcome, Mo.”

She barely heard his whispered words over the oscillating fan that sat on the nearby filing cabinet. She caught his gaze and smiled at him. Henry was getting to her. He knew. She knew that he knew, and she was pretty sure he knew that she knew. Whether she liked it or not, Henry was a large part of her private personal life. And he knew every damn thing.

She grabbed her desk phone to make a call.

“Who are you calling?”

“Seeing what’s taking IT so long to get back to me.”

While Morgan made the call, Henry grabbed their coffee mugs and made another journey to the coffeemaker. She watched Henry walk away as she waited for the other end to be answered. “Eddie? Hey. It’s Morgan.”

“Sorry, babe, still haven’t done it yet.”

“What the hell’s taking you so long? This is important.”

“Just like the six other jobs I’ve got, and they’ve got more stripes than you have.”

“Don’t make me call in that favor you owe me.” Eddie was the brainiest computer geek Morgan knew. What he could do on a computer was probably illegal and dangerous to national security. She was hoping he could spin a miracle or two and be able to assist her.

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Just do your best.” Eddie’s best was always good enough.

“Thanks.” She hung up the phone and ran her hand over her face. 197

Her mind was spinning. There were so many damn things going on in her life, all clamoring for attention and ending up a jumbled mess in her brain. Work was overlapping her personal life and vice versa. She should be seriously stressed out, but somehow she couldn’t raise the energy or the enthusiasm to do that.

“Hello? Earth to O’Callaghan,” Henry called as he approached with a hot cup of coffee for her.

“Sorry, my mind wandered off for a minute.”

“I hope it had a nice trip. This just came from the DA’s Office for you.” He handed over an envelope.

She opened the envelope, perused the contents of the papers inside, and smiled. “Hey, bro. We’re going on a turkey hunt this afternoon.” She handed the warrant to search Lenny’s apartment back to Henry. “You want to call for a forensics team to follow us over? Oh, and we’ll need to contact the Brooklyn PD, as it’s their jurisdiction.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.” Morgan moved to the Xerox machine and made a copy, which she placed in an envelope that she addressed. She was tempted to give it to Morelli to deliver just to piss him off but decided she didn’t need the aggravation. Morgan stopped a few steps before reaching Morelli’s desk and dropped the envelope on Velasquez’s desk. “Can you do me a favor and drop that off to Legal Aid? It’s a search warrant for Kamanowicz’s apartment.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.” Velasquez was a good cop, not only because she was conscientious, polite, and thorough, but also because she didn’t give Morgan grief.

Unlike certain other people. She moved to Morelli’s desk.

“Detective.” It sounded so formal, but the way things were between them, it was probably about as good as it was going to get.

“What do you want, O’Callaghan?”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re busy.” She knew damn well he wasn’t busy. There was nothing sitting open on his desk, and he was yakking it up with his two cohorts. “Where are those financial statements for the secretary and the financial controller that I asked you to chase down?”

“They’re coming.”

“When? Christmas?” Fredericks and Lowenstein chuckled.

“And you two. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“They’re helping me,” Morelli said.

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“Helping you do what? Breathe?” She glared at the three of them. “Get back to work.”

“Sure, O’Callaghan, in a minute.” Morelli turned back to his friends to continue the conversation.

No one had seen the captain walk up behind the assembled group. “The sergeant gave you an order, Detective.”

Morelli glowered at her.

Markham caught the look from Morelli. “Before you go, Detective, in my office, now.” He walked off toward his office, leaving the group glaring at each other.

“How’s the arm, O’Callaghan?” Morelli growled. “If I were you I’d watch my back in case he comes back for another go.”

“Is that a threat, Morelli? If it is—”

“I’d never do such a thing, Sergeant,” he said sarcastically. “I was just concerned for your welfare.”

He walked off with a swagger, like a man with a secret. Morgan was planning on finding out what that secret was. She walked back to her desk. “Shit,” she muttered. If things weren’t uncomfortable before between her and Morelli, this would surely escalate to all-out war. She had made a dangerous enemy and would be spending a lot of her time looking over her shoulder.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Henry said.

“I don’t need this fuckin’ hassle. He’s going to bury me.”

“No, he won’t.” They looked at each other and he shrugged.

“We’ll think of something.”

“No, stay out of this. You’ve got a family to think about. This is my problem, and I’m going to have to handle it.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“A few phone calls will help, I think. I still have some friends on the force. The one thing I have going for me is that nobody likes his ignorant ass,” Morgan said.

She hadn’t wanted to get Henry involved in it, but she needed some very delicate investigation. “Henry, on second thought, I have a job for you and it needs some… finesse.” She smiled at herself for using such a word. Henry’s answering smile told her she didn’t fool him either. “Morelli’s hinting he was behind the hit-and-run. He could be blowing smoke up my ass, but I can’t afford not to check him out. But it’s got to be done very carefully. If he gets wind of what I’m up to—”

“Relax. Finesse is my middle name, boss,” Henry joked. Morgan checked her weapon and grabbed her notebook and phone. “Now, my learned friend, my chariot, if you please.”

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“Your every wish is my command, O Great Queen of da Nile.”

“That’s more like it. I could get used to this. Wait… Queen of denial? Hey.”

Henry had already disappeared out the back to requisition a car. Morgan sighed and headed for the captain’s office. She stood just outside, trying not to listen to the dressing down Markham was giving Morelli, but who was she kidding? She was hanging on every word.

“But, Captain—” Morelli was saying.

“I’ve had enough. You’ve been harassing her since she got that post. What’s your problem?”

“My problem? I don’t like these friggin’ perverts. These homos got no right to be on the force.”

“Sergeant O’Callaghan is not a homosexual, Morelli.”

“Oh, come on, Captain. She’s got no boyfriend, and she dresses like a friggin’ dude. Look at her, will you? Getting all cute and shit with the ADA. She’s got ‘dyke’ written all over her.”

“It looks like you’re the one with the problem, Morelli. I don’t have a problem with her. You’re assuming shit that’s going to get your ass in a lot of trouble. There’s not one shred of evidence that she’s gay, and even if she was, it doesn’t mean anything. Good God, man, have you even considered that maybe with her lifestyle as a cop that she’s got no time for a boyfriend? God forbid that she keeps her private life private. She dresses like a what? You want her in a skirt and heels? Don’t be an idiot.” There was a pause in the conversation.

“And she’s got a hell of a lot more style than you have, Detective. And now Sergeant O’Callaghan and the counselor are friendly? A couple of girls go out shopping? You’re kidding, right? If that’s what defines a lesbian, then I guess my wife is one, too.”

Markham’s voice had been steadily increasing in volume until it reached its peak at the word “wife.”

“Whatever. She’s a dyke, all right,” Morelli said.

“Maybe the sergeant might like to press charges against you for discrimination along with insubordination.”

Morgan heard a scrape of a chair and a few steps before the door opened.

“Oh, there you are. Sergeant, in my office.”

Morgan dragged her feet, not wanting to have this confrontation. “Sir.” She was cornered.

“Now, we’re going to get this settled once and for all.” The captain’s dark features shifted from one detective to the other.

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“Who’s going to go first?” Both stood stony-faced, anger and resentment building inside each of them. “It looks like it’s going to be me. It seems, Sergeant, that Detective Morelli here has a problem working with you.”

“I know, sir.”

“What do you think we should do about it?”

“Well, I don’t have a problem working with him,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Well, I sure as hell do working with you,” Morelli shot back.

“I’m well aware of your grievances, Detective,” Markham broke in. “Let the sergeant speak.”

“As I said, sir, I have no problem, but I think the detective has got an idea in his head and no amount of denial is going to change that.” She looked at Markham. The captain pretty much knew everything anyway.

“I agree. So, Detective, what do you suggest we do?”

“Get rid of her. She’s got no right here.”

“That’s not an option that’s up for debate,” Markham said in a low, dangerous voice. “She stays. Live with it.”

Morelli took the opportunity to leave, slamming the door behind him.

“It’s not going to end here,” Morgan said to Markham.

“I know.” He sighed deeply. “I really don’t need this now.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Markham smiled wanly. “He’s got a serious problem, and I’m not sure how to handle it. The obvious thing would be to transfer him, but that will only make matters worse for you. At least here I can try to keep a lid on it. And don’t you even think about asking for a transfer. You’re the one who’s picking up the slack for those three yahoos.”

“Looks like you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, Captain.” Morgan gave him an apologetic grin.

“Looks like it.”

“So what do you want me to do?” It was one more problem to add to a growing list that she didn’t want to deal with.

“Look, Morgan, I don’t give a damn. I think you know that. You’re a good cop. You do your job. You keep your personal life to yourself. But…”

“But?”

“Things could get tough. Real tough, if you’re not careful and I’m forced to step in. I don’t want myself in that position. Hell, I 201

don’t want you in that position. You know how things are. Just be careful. Watch your back around Morelli and his bunch.”

“You think he’ll try something?” Morgan thought about all the shitty things he could do to her. Then, of course, there were the suspicions about the hit-and-run.

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t. He’s just stupid enough and mean enough to at least try to set you up for something.”

“I’ll do my best. And for the record, if you’re forced into making a decision, whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

“I can always rely on you to do your job. Don’t count yourself out.” He smiled at her.

“Thanks. For everything.”

Markham dismissed her with a wave of his hand. As she reached the door, she turned. “Chang and I are heading over to Brooklyn, to Kamanowicz’s place. The search warrant just came through. I sent Velasquez over to Legal Aid with a copy for his lawyer.”

“I’ll make sure it gets over there, Sergeant. Since we’re crossing the bridge, I’ll contact Brooklyn Homicide and get them to meet you there.”

Morgan departed and headed down the staircase. Henry was waiting in the car with the engine running. With a certain amount of trepidation, she climbed in, frantically searching for the seatbelt before he took off into traffic at breakneck speed. This time they were going all the way over into Brooklyn, with a hell of a lot more opportunities to run headlong into a parked car or two. Or a hot dog cart. Maybe a large group of tourists. “Henry, do you feel it’s absolutely necessary to operate this vehicle like a NASCAR driver? Brooklyn isn’t going anywhere.”

“Come on, Red. It’s the only chance I get to drive like this. Give me a break, huh?”

“Speaking of breaks, I already have one,” she said, moving her damaged arm for emphasis. “And I’m not inclined to have any more.”

“Come on, live a little.”

“Do you drive like this with Suzie and the kids in the car?”

“Of course not. They’re my wife and kids.”

“And you deem it necessary to subject me to your secret death wish?”

“Of course.”

“That’s what I thought.” She stared through the windshield at the blur of buildings while Henry negotiated the myriad of streets

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that made up New York City. They were heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge that would ultimately lead to Lenny’s stomping grounds. “What about Brooklyn Homicide?”

“They’ll meet us there.”

“Let’s hope we get there in one piece.”

“No worries, mate.”

“No worries? Great. He thinks he’s a NASCAR driver and Australian.” Morgan couldn’t wait to get out of her cast just so she could take over the driving duties.

They sped through Brooklyn, moving from the pristine suburban homes of the middle-income earners and the struggling blue-collar workers to a run-down building located on one of the seedier streets of Brooklyn. It didn’t surprise Morgan that Lenny lived in such a crap hole. It made her own apartment seem like the Trump Tower.

They went up the stairs, avoiding broken glass, syringes, and God knows what else, to the front door of Lenny’s apartment building. Security was nonexistent, so the mere turn of a knob gave them access to the building’s interior. Morgan stood for a moment surveying the darkened staircase and decided to wait for the rest of the search team outside in the sunlight. She pulled Henry out of the building with her.

As they waited, they became a bit of a tourist attraction. Younger kids blatantly stared at them while disenchanted teenagers watched them surreptitiously from stoops and around corners and the elderly watched from their windows. Morgan felt a certain amount of suspicion and animosity in the gazes. These people knew she and Henry were the police.

Brooklyn Homicide arrived just moments before her own team. She handed the warrant to her Brooklyn counterpart for his perusal.

“We have the occupant of this apartment building in custody for the attempted murder of a City ADA. We need to find something—anything—to tie him to two other attempts. Apartment 2E.”

Considering the neighborhood, Morgan thought it prudent to leave an officer with the vehicles so they didn’t come back to find the tires missing. She located the building superintendent and showed him the warrant before she and Henry carefully negotiated the interior stairs. The ominous creaking made her want to grab onto the banister, but the revulsion of actually touching anything in this nasty place overrode her trepidation about the staircase collapsing. 203

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the muted light in the hallway of the second floor. All the light bulbs were broken, and the only light came from a small window at the opposite end of the corridor. They made their approach with caution. Lenny was in custody, and the apartment should be empty, but one never knew. Henry tried the door handle as a matter of course, not really expecting it to give way. While the building’s front door was open, the apartments themselves were probably locked up like Fort Knox. In this neighborhood, it would be wise to keep everything secured.

“Sir, if you please,” he said to the superintendent. The super, still in his robe, or at least what was left of one, unlocked the door with his master key. Henry entered the apartment slowly and carefully, his finger resting along the side of his drawn weapon. “Clear!” Once the call came, Morgan followed the lead Brooklyn Homicide detective into the apartment. She quickly scanned the darkened rooms and tried to adjust her vision to the hues of gray and black.

Somebody flipped the light on, and a single naked light bulb nearly blinded her with its brightness relative to the previous darkness. “Geez.” Morgan used her hand to shade her eyes until her vision adjusted. The room was barely furnished. Lenny didn’t hang around here much. Or he sat around doing nothing. After snapping on latex gloves, the four detectives and two forensics officers made quick work of the apartment. While the crime lab boys dusted for prints and collected anything that looked remotely interesting for forensic evidence, the detectives poked around. Morgan was especially interested in finding anything with numbers on it. Phone numbers, bank accounts, addresses, anything that would give her a clue as to who had hired Lenny to kill Andrea. She found a few useful items, some of which she would pass on to Eddie and let him work his magic.

Morgan stopped investigating for a moment and scanned the room. She had always thought that her own apartment was pretty basic, but this—this was beyond basic and it was a pigsty. How somebody could make something so sparsely furnished a pigsty was beyond her, but Lenny had managed to do so. Morgan didn’t feel so bad anymore about where she lived. After this, things were pretty cheery at her place.

So far, she hadn’t found anything here to tie Lenny to the other two attempts on Andrea’s life. She was disappointed, but she still had him for the third attempt, an open-and-shut case that would put him behind bars for a substantial amount of time.

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“Hey, O’Callaghan.” Henry’s muffled voice came from the kitchen

“What did you find?” she asked, as she entered the dingy room.

“Lookie,” he said gleefully. He pointed behind the refrigerator.

“Oh, no way.” Morgan couldn’t believe it. “Gray! Hey, in here.” The crime lab lead came in, and she pointed to the refrigerator. “Can you take some photos of this? Behind the fridge.”

“Sure, no problem.” He disappeared for a moment or two before returning with the camera.

“That looks like it could have done the job,” Henry theorized as Gray took the photos.

“Yep. Of course we’ll have to wait and see what Gray comes up with.” She caught Gray smiling as he continued to take photos of the surrounding area. Morgan waited patiently while he reached in and carefully extracted the package, laying it on the countertop. He unwrapped it until they could see a high-powered rifle with a sniper scope.

“Got you, you bastard,” Morgan said triumphantly. They continued the search and found a plastic bag with a wad of money in it floating inside the toilet tank. Again Gray obliged by taking all the necessary crime scene photos then securing the money and bag as evidence. Morgan hoped they lifted some useful fingerprints off it. Maybe this was the payoff cash. It was surely a payoff for something.

When every inch had finally been searched, dusted, and photographed, Morgan called off the operation. It looked like Lenny would get away with one attempt, but with some luck, the round taken out of the precinct wall would match the rifle safely in the hands of the crime lab boys. Maybe she could get Lenny to talk with this new evidence. She’d sure as hell try, and that thought gave her grim satisfaction.

Chapter 17

Andrea was bored out of her mind and completely frustrated. Jefferson and Virginia Worthington, her allegedly devoted parents, had been her constant companions the last two days. Her mother was driving her up the damn wall by constantly complaining about

‘that woman,’ the dangers of living in New York City, and how much more civilized it was back in Charleston. Andrea, however, had ceased listening somewhere after ‘hello’ yesterday morning. It was just as well because Virginia simply ignored anything her daughter was able to force into the conversation.

“Mother, for the last time, I’m not going back to Charleston.”

Andrea’s voice showed her weariness. “I have a job to do here, and I’m not leaving.”

“Honey, you’re a bit rattled with the shooting. You’ll see reason once we have you back home,” Virginia said smugly.

“That was two days ago. I was injured in the shoulder, not the head. I’m fine. And I’m not changing my mind.” Andrea kept her voice level. If she lost her cool, it would only fuel her mother’s campaign. Really, the conversation was all rather pointless. Like the irresistible force meeting an immovable object, neither of them would budge from their respective views.

“Your father met with the district attorney this morning, and he made some inquiries on your behalf about you returning to Charleston.”

Andrea stared at her, flabbergasted. Hounding her into returning home was one thing, but actively involving themselves in removing her from her professional position was stepping way over the line.

“You did what? How dare you interfere in my life to that extent? What gives you the right to do such a thing?”

“I have the right as your mother to protect you in spite of yourself,” Virginia said. “That—that woman has you totally 205

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confused, and all you can see is staying here. It’s too dangerous. We’re doing this for your own good.”

“She has nothing to do with this, Mother, so stop using her as an excuse. How many times do I have to keep saying this? She’s a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. This is about me. My life, or lack thereof. I want some breathing space, and I can’t get that with you hovering around me.” If Andrea gave in, her independence would be gone and the wedding would be back on. Neither situation was acceptable. She had found a new life, and she wanted it all.

“Out. Get out now. Go home, Mother. When I feel in a forgiving mood, I’ll come and visit. Until then—” Andrea bit her tongue because she knew there were venomous remarks just waiting to come out of her mouth. Her anger was palpable, and so was her need to vent it, but a tiny kernel of reason somehow held her harmful words in check. She could feel heat radiating from her face, and she knew very well her expression was ominous and threatening. “Your visit to New York has now ended. Go home.”

Her mother stood, shocked, clearly unable to comprehend what she had done wrong. “But, honey, what—”

“Enough. No more. Just go.” Andrea turned her gaze to the window, dismissing them.

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” Virginia headed for the door.

“Daddy, can I have a word with you, please?” When they both hesitated, she added, “Alone.”

Her parents exchanged curious looks. Andrea waited for her mother to depart, leaving the two of them alone in the room. She pointed to the chair sitting against the wall. “Please sit down over here.”

“Sugar?” Jefferson seemed nervous. He lifted the chair and moved it next to Andrea’s bed.

“Why did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you interfere? You’ve never questioned my decisions before.”

“Because your mother asked me to.” He sounded defeated.

“Did you honestly think it was the right thing to do?”

“I don’t know, honey. Your mother had some very convincing arguments.”

“And what about what I want?”

“But how do you know this is what you want? Andrea, honey, this is all so sudden. You seemed so fine when you left home, and now you want to call off the wedding and stay here?”

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“I don’t know what I feel right now. All I know is that I want to stay here without interference.” Andrea read confusion on her father’s face. “It’s like I’ve found my second home, Daddy. You and mother will always be my first home, if that’s what you’re worrying about, but I like it here. It’s bustling, exciting, and vibrant, Daddy, and I feel I have a place in it.”

“And what about this Morgan woman?”

“What about her?” Andrea sensed the unasked question.

“Did she talk you into this? Are you and she…?”

“Daddy, we’re friends. Since her injury I’ve been helping her with household chores and such. She saved my life. I feel I should at least help her out.”

“Okay, pumpkin. I still don’t get it, but—”

“How can I ignore this? Aren’t I allowed to find my own happiness?”

“Honey, it’s only been… what? A week?”

“I know, I know. I don’t understand it either, but it was like I was meant to be here. If it turns out to be a mistake, then it’s my mistake to make.” Andrea felt her best chance was to convince her father, because her mother was a lost cause. “It was like my moving to New York was all part of some cosmic plan. Who knows? Maybe I don’t want to know.” Andrea could see her father thinking, and she hoped her impassioned speech got through to him. “Can you at least let me live my own life?”

“But your mother—”

“Daddy, please, for once don’t be influenced by her. Give me a chance. Please? For me?”

“All right. I’ll try. I don’t know what I’m going to tell your mother, though.”

“You’ll find a way. And will you please call the district attorney and tell him you made a mistake?”

He sighed deeply. “All right, sugar. If that’s what you really want.”

“It’s what I really want. Now, please go home. I’ll come and visit once things have settled down. And thank you.”

Virginia had forced Andrea’s hand, leaving her no choice but to send them home. She yawned and reached for her father’s hand.

“I’m getting really tired. Go back to Charleston in the morning, and I’ll call you in a few days.”

“All right. I’ll have to meet this new friend of yours properly one day and see for myself.”

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“I think that could be arranged, but not now. One day, when we’re all ready to talk rationally about this.”

“Good idea. It’s going to take some fancy talking on my part just to get your mother on that plane.”

“Daddy, you’re a tycoon, Mr. Wheeler-Dealer himself. You can talk anybody into anything. What’s just one little old woman?”

she said with a wink.

“Just one woman? We’re talking about your mother. I’ll be lucky if I’m in the same bedroom with her when we get home.”

Andrea pulled him down into a gentle hug, careful not to jar her injured shoulder. She whispered into his ear, “Thank you for giving it a chance.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now get some sleep.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

Jefferson shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Andrea alone to contemplate what had just taken place. She wasn’t sure whether she felt elated or shocked, but she was glad the family confrontation was now over. She thought about the conversation with her father, and her eyes closed slowly as sleep overtook her.

* * *

It had been a long day. Ballistics was trying to match the rifle to the round that had passed through Andrea’s shoulder. Why did everything take so damned long?

“Will you calm down?” Henry said.

“Huh?” Morgan barely acknowledged him. She was thinking about the two cases, carefully pushing the pieces she had into various patterns in her mind’s eye like some sort of jigsaw puzzle. Some pieces were missing from both cases, leaving her to speculate as to what really happened. Why would anyone kill a harmless maid when there didn’t seem to be an apparent motive? Obviously there had to be one, but she wasn’t able to see it yet.

“So what’s going on in that brain of yours?” Henry asked.

“I just can’t figure this one out. Why Rose McManus? Connie Vaughan seems a more likely target than she is. Hell, even Arthur Vaughan is a better deal. She’s got no money to speak of, no relatives, and no hidden agendas that we can find—at least none that haven’t already been accounted for. If the only possible motive for her death is the will, why kill her? Why not go for Vaughan before he can change his will?”

“Maybe it’s as simple as that.”

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“Maybe. But killing Vaughan seems the more plausible action to take. She was pretty much unconnected, Henry, and that’s what’s confusing me.”

“Heard back from ballistics yet?”

“Nope, and when I next see Jerry…”

“Leave the boy alone, Red. He’s working as fast as he can.”

“Not fast enough for me.”

“That’s because you’re way too impatient, even for me. So what’s our next move?”

“Once ballistics gives me their report, we’ll go visit Lenny again. See if he’s a bit more amenable to naming names.”

She suspected he wouldn’t be. Lenny was one tough customer and was going to take the information to his grave or, in this case, to jail. Still, she wouldn’t know until she tried.

“Anything I can do?” Henry asked.

“I was going to check out the numbers we found at Lenny’s. You want to give me a hand?”

“No problem.” His nose crinkled as a broad grin broke across his face.

“Let’s get a cup of coffee before we start.”

He looked at Morgan in confusion. “Er, yeah, whatever you say.” They made their way to the coffeemaker. “Why am I getting a new cup of coffee when I have half a cup in my hand?” he asked quietly.

“Because I don’t want to talk about the case around Morelli,”

Morgan said in a low voice.

“I don’t get it.”

“When I went to tell the captain we were going to Lenny’s, Morelli was ranting and raving about me. I think he’s losing it. For now, this investigation is between the two of us.”

“Sure. But why?”

“Because I don’t trust him.”

“You think he’s involved?”

“In the murder? No. But he’s really pissed off at me, maybe enough to deliberately sabotage the investigation.”

“Morelli?” Henry glanced at the grumpy detective. Morgan sighed. “Maybe I’m being paranoid, but can you indulge me? At least for the next day or so until I see which way he swings.”

“Sure, no problem.” Henry shook his head.

“What?”

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“I was wondering whether that Lenny guy might have kicked you in the head and a few cents fell out.”

“Huh?”

“Just thinking maybe you’re a few cents short of a dollar, boss.”

“Just as well I love you like a brother, partner, or I’d take that personally.”

They headed back to their desks, their coffee mugs refreshed.

“What I’m looking for is anything that leads us to whoever hired the hit. I didn’t see a phone at the apartment. Did Lenny have a cell phone with him?” Morgan asked.

“Not sure, but I can search his personal belongings.”

“If so, check the address book on the cell phone and his phone records, especially the day of and the day before the first attack on Andrea. I want a name and address.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“Always.”

They smiled at each other as if sharing a mutual joke. Morgan then turned her attention to Morelli, who sat glowering at her from across the room.

“Are you going to visit Andy tonight?” Henry inquired.

“I suppose so.”

“That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”

“It’s her damned parents. They don’t like me.”

“No? Imagine that.” Henry laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Andy will protect you.” He turned at the growl directed at him.

“What? You don’t think she can do it?”

“You’re just a laugh a minute, aren’t you?”

“God knows I try. You’re not exactly Ms. Polly Personality, you know.” When Morgan didn’t bite, Henry said, “Aw, c’mon, Red. Cheer up. They won’t be here forever.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” She continued before he could question that. “What if they convince her to go home?”

“They won’t do that. You know she likes you… a lot.”

Morgan choked on her coffee, the tepid liquid squirting out her nose because it had nowhere else to go. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped her face and the desk. “A lot? That’s a bit strong, don’t you think?”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“She likes me as a friend, Henry. We enjoy each other’s company.” She didn’t look him in the eye, knowing she would see 211

the look of incredulity there. “Okay, maybe it’s a bit more than that.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t?”

“Of course not. Now cut the crap and go see her. She must be bored stupid lying there in bed.”

“Yeah, probably. In the meantime, bud, we’ve got work to do.”

* * *

Lenny did indeed have a cell phone. After ascertaining its number, they requisitioned the phone records for the last month. While Henry continued the search for the mastermind behind the murder-for-hire, Morgan touched base with Eddie.

“Eddie? Hey, it’s me. Any luck?”

“I was just about to call you. I’ve come up with something.”

“You are the man.” Morgan was overjoyed. At last, an answer.

“It wasn’t easy. This Lauren chick sure covered her tracks.”

“Lauren? Eddie, make some sense here.”

“Lauren Stapleton is the gal you’re looking for, O’Callaghan. The money left the US of A and stopped at two other banks before coming back into the country.”

“Can you send me the printouts of those records?”

“Yeah, no problem, sugar.”

“Thanks. Oh, hey, I need you on standby for the next couple of days, you know, just in case.”

“Are you crazy? I’ve got jobs up to my eyeballs. I can’t just drop everything.” Eddie’s voice screamed down the cell. She held the phone away from her ear. “Hang on there, pal. You seem to have forgotten the little, though highly embarrassing, jam I got you out of recently. What was it? Oh, yeah, trouble at a certain Madam Lucy’s Den of a Thousand Delights? Something about a latex suit, a French maid’s outfit, and a rubber chicken? I don’t even want to know about that one.” No matter how she figured it, the rubber chicken had her stumped. Maybe it was better not to know.

“If you must know—”

“No, no, no. Don’t tell me. Do I need to remind you how much trouble that little indiscretion could have caused you?”

“Aw, Morgan, don’t do that to me. You know I appreciate what you did.”

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“Good boy. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking. And, hey buddy, thanks for your efforts on getting the information. Talk to you later.”

As she hung up, she smiled. Eddie was one in a million. She was glad there was only one of him because he had some strange tastes, but then again, who was she to talk? She signaled to Henry to grab his mug, and they made their way to the coffeemaker.

“This is going to look damned stupid,” Henry said, “if every time we want to talk we go for coffee.”

“It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.” Morgan mechanically poured out the old coffee and refilled her mug.

“So what’s up now?”

“My friend Eddie in IT tracked down that money.”

“I didn’t know you had any friends in IT. Hell, I didn’t even know you knew what IT stood for.” He chuckled. “Hang on—

tracked it down? You mean he found it?”

“Well, Eddie’s the best. And he owed me one. I managed to get myself bumped up the waiting list. Anyway, he tracked the money through two accounts around the world until it came back here. It’s all sitting in this bank account that belongs to a woman named Lauren Stapleton.”

“Who the hell is she?”

“I have no idea. We didn’t interview anyone by that name that I can remember. So now we’ve got another unknown in the mix. Any luck with the phone records?”

“I’ve got half a dozen numbers for the two days in question. I was just working through them when you called me.”

“I’m willing to bet my underwear that one of them is Lauren Stapleton.”

“Underwear?” He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.”

“And your underwear is a valuable betting item?”

“To me it is,” she said, smiling.

“If you say so.” He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just you and your underwear.”

“My underwear is funny?”

“When you start betting with it, it is.” He took a sip of coffee and made a face.

“You know what?” Morgan said, regarding him. “You have a very strange sense of humor.”

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“I know.” His grin widened and Morgan grinned back. “That’s what Suzie loves about me.”

“Uh-huh. Your humor.” Morgan looked him up and down appreciatively.

“Er… uh,” Henry stammered. “Well, there’s that, too.”

“Yeah, right.” She had teased him enough. “Let’s get back to work before you decide to show me what else Suzie loves about you.”

“Oh, good God.”

“She won’t help you. C’mon, back to business.” She nodded her head toward her desk.

Sauntering past Morelli, she tried to avoid eye contact with him. She figured he was trying to get her attention to insult her with some snide remark designed to make her react. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Oh, grow up,” she growled as she sank into her chair.

That afternoon did prove productive. One of the numbers on Lenny’s phone bill did indeed belong to Lauren Stapleton. After a call to an accommodating judge, Morgan obtained a warrant for a tap on Lauren’s phone. She really wanted to know who this woman was, considering she hadn’t shown up in the investigation until now. Why was Lauren so interested in the death of Rose McManus? Or was she interested in Arthur Vaughan? Maybe she was one of Connie’s friends or maybe had a connection to Chelsea. Suddenly the case was thrown wide open with a new player added to the investigation. While Henry finished up with the last few phone inquiries, Morgan went to see Markham.

“Enter.” The voice was loud and clear, but it didn’t seem to hold any anger or menace. Maybe he was in a good mood. “Ah, O’Callaghan, come in.”

“Sir.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I want to requisition surveillance on an address.”

His eyebrow rose. “I assume you’re going to tell me why.”

“Yes, sir. We had hit a brick wall with the McManus case going in the direction we were following. So, I changed my game plan. I’m approaching the investigation from another angle. It looks like we have a break.”

“And?”

“I called in a favor with IT to expedite our request for them to track the money trail, and they came up with a name. This name

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also appeared in our search of Leonard Kamanowicz’s phone records.”

“So is this person our killer?”

“Could be, but I think we need photographic surveillance to find out who it is before we make any arrests. I don’t want to spook them until we’ve got all the pieces to the puzzle.”

Markham lapsed into silence. Morgan figured he was thinking about how much it would cost to do surveillance.

“This is the break we’re looking for, Captain.”

“Fine. Give me the address and I’ll organize it. Our guys managed to find the money, huh? Impressive.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s our geekiest geek in the force.”

“And he’s a friend, huh?”

“More an acquaintance.”

“And I don’t want to know how you met him, do I?”

“Probably not.”

“Ah, it’s one of those types of favors. In that case, we’d better get this surveillance under way.”

“I’ve also organized a warrant for a phone tap of the premises. It’s on its way over as we speak.”

“You’ve been busy, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“See what a little motivation does for you?”

“Sir?”

Markham didn’t answer but raised a bushy eyebrow at her. She blushed.

“I was talking about the DA’s Office breathing down our necks.” Markham chuckled as Morgan let out a sigh of relief. He changed the subject. “How’s Morelli behaving?”

“Quiet for the moment, but I’m worried.”

“Watch your back. Closely,” Markham said.

“I think you’re right.”

He nodded. “Now get out of here. It seems I have a few phone calls to make.”

“I’m sorry Morelli’s being such an ass.”

“Don’t be sorry. Let’s keep moving forward.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I almost forgot,” Markham said. “The accountant, Perkins, is on his way here from Massachusetts. It’ll be late when he gets in, so you can interrogate him in the morning.”

“Good deal.”

“Even if he has an alibi, he ran and I want to know why.”

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Morgan nodded at him and left his office. She took a moment to sit on the bench in the corridor. She was tired. Bone tired. So much was going on that a lot of it seemed a blur. Leaning back against the seat, Morgan studied her shoes.

“Having trouble with the new shoes?”

Morgan looked up at Henry as he took a seat next to her. “Nah. Just taking a breather. How’s Morelli?”

“Stomping around and muttering under his breath. What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t got time for his shit. Perkins will be here in the morning.”

“That’s good news. So you’re going to ignore that son-of-abitch?”

“What do you think?” Morgan sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “You want a hand?” She offered her good hand to help him up.

“Okay, rest break is over. Let’s go find us a killer.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Morgan stood at the door to Andrea’s room, listening. She heard nothing, so she went in. She was pleasantly surprised and relieved to see only Andrea, propped up in the middle of the bed and looking totally cute.

“Hey.” She grinned at Morgan.

“Hi. You’re sounding a lot more chipper.” Morgan looked around the room.

“The doctor had me up and around today for a little while. It wore me out. And I’ve sent them home.”

“Them?”

“My parents. They’re heading back to South Carolina tomorrow. And no, they won’t be back tonight, either.” Andrea smiled. “And no, I’m not a mind reader.”

Morgan’s head dipped as her thoughts seemed to be transparent to Andrea.

“I don’t need to be Madam Fifi the Mind Reader to know what you’re thinking, Morgan O’Callaghan. You’re an open book.”

“Not you, too,” Morgan said with a sigh. This particular book was being read way too much and needed to be put back on the shelf.

“What are you talking about?”

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“Nothing.” Morgan didn’t want to give Andrea further ammunition .

Andrea pointed at Morgan’s arm. “Where’s the sling?”

“I took it off.”

“Well, duh. I was shot in the shoulder, not blinded. Why did you take it off?”

“Because I don’t need it anymore, nosy. See?” Morgan lifted her arm and moved it around freely. “It’s fine. The pain is almost nonexistent . ”

“Uh-huh,” Andrea said skeptically but chose to talk about something else. “How’s Morelli?”

Morgan happily accepted the change. “Hmm.”

“Not good?”

“If it were any worse, we’d have to bring in the National Guard.”

“Why? What happened?”

“He blew up in Markham’s office. I told him to stop goofing off, and he ignored me. Markham caught him and it got real nasty. I think Morelli’s cheese has finally slid off the cracker.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Grow another set of eyes in the back of my head.”

“It’s gotten that bad? What’s Markham doing about this?”

Andrea looked angry.

“He talked to Morelli, but the asshole just won’t see reason. I think it’s gone past mere objection to me being gay. This is war in the trenches now. Kill or be killed. Well, not quite that bad, but he’s got me in his sights. He needs help. But until he physically attacks me, the captain can’t force him to do anything. I only hope whatever he tries isn’t fatal.” Morgan suspected that Morelli had already tried that, but she didn’t want Andrea to worry about the possibility. The fewer people who knew about her suspicions, the less chance of Morelli getting wind of it.

Andrea stared at her. “This is ridiculous. You mean you have to wait for him to attack you before he can be helped?”

“If Morelli refuses to see there’s a problem, Markham’s hands are tied.”

“That’s nuts.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Morgan hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but Andrea saying the obvious wasn’t helping her strained nerves. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and calmed down. “Sorry. I’m a bit touchy.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d be climbing the wall by now.”

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“I’m past the wall and hanging off the chandelier.” She paused.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? How’s the shoulder? What did the doctor say?”

“It’s good. Still pretty sore, but the doctor says it’s healing nicely. I should be able to go home in a couple of days. Then it’s just a matter of convalescing at home,” Andrea said wistfully.

“Good to hear.”

“Will you come and see me at my apartment?”

“Well…”

“Please. I’ve got no one else here. I’ll go nuts if I’m there alone all the time.”

“We can meet for lunch if you want. You don’t have to spend all your time there. They just want you to take care, that’s all.”

Thoughts of what could happen if she visited Andrea at her apartment zipped through Morgan’s head.

“I just wish I could come back to work. Something to occupy my mind. You know what I mean?”

“Maybe you could come back on limited duties. Something like office work only and no court.”

“That would be great. Do you think the DA would go for it?”

“All you can do is ask.”

“I’ll be glad to get back to work. They have me in rehab at the moment, and it’s boring as hell.”

“And painful, too, I imagine.”

“A little. If it gets me back to work quicker, I’ll put up with it.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Morgan smiled. “You’re a workaholic.”

“Hey, kettle. Watch who you’re calling black.”

“I can’t help it. My mind just doesn’t switch off when the clock does.” Morgan saw Andrea try to hide a yawn.

“You’re tired and you need your rest, especially if you want to be out of here in a day or so. I guess I’d better go,” she said reluctantly.

“I wish you didn’t have to.” Andrea extended her hand, inviting Morgan to sit on the edge of the bed. Morgan didn’t move. “I don’t want Nurse Ratched paddling my ass.”

“Now that would be a sight.” Andrea absently fiddled with her blanket. “Well…”

“Yeah.”

“Will you come tomorrow?”

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“Lots to do tomorrow, but I can come tomorrow night. Anything you want me to bring?”

“A wheelchair to break out of this nuthouse for starters.”

Morgan threw her a stern glare.

“No? Then maybe one of those dirty romance novels or a bottle of scotch. Some Valium would be appreciated, too.”

“Really?”

“Kidding. Just bring yourself, and I’ll be happy.”

“Happy? With me? Ah, okay. You sure that’s not the pain medication talking? The doc didn’t slip you a mickey, did he?”

“Nope, my mind is quite clear and coherent.”

“You’re delusional.”

“About you? Possibly. But hey, do you want me any other way?”

Morgan wasn’t used to talking about such things and floundered as Andrea continued to tease her.

“Now take that cute tush of yours home and get a good night’s sleep.”

Morgan sputtered at the words, shaking her head slowly as she stood and moved toward the door.

“You’re not going to kiss me good night?”

Morgan paused. She felt the force of those words down to the pit of her stomach. What had she started? Then again, how could she not kiss her? Morgan leaned in and closed the distance between their lips. She felt Andrea’s hand on the back of her neck, pulling her nearer. Oh, God, that was good. Morgan broke contact first.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Henry sends his love.”

“Tell that partner of yours to get his butt in here to visit me,”

Andrea said with pronounced gravity. “And bring his family.”

“You might wish he didn’t.”

“Why?”

“The Chang family is more than I can handle at one visit. Then again, they might be just what you need to get yourself kicked out of this hospital early.”

“Get out of here, crazy lady.” Andrea shoved Morgan’s shoulder with her good hand. “Just remember, if you don’t visit me I’ll haunt you.”

“Is that a threat?” Morgan’s eyebrow rose in mock dismay.

“No, it’s a promise,” Andrea said, a smile crossing her lips. Morgan walked out of the room, and the door closed behind her and tapped her ass. She looked at the two uniforms on guard duty. “Have a good night,” she muttered and headed toward the 219

elevator. Andrea was safe, so now she could turn her full attention to the case at hand and the mysterious Lauren Stapleton.

Chapter 18

Morgan met Henry on the sidewalk as they were about to enter the precinct for the start of another day. Her deli coffee was still piping hot, and she sipped it as she waited for him to cover the final few feet to reach her.

“Hey. How are Suzie and the kids?”

“You know, the usual. I was in the bathroom trying to get ready for work when the kids suddenly decided it was a perfect time to show me their finger paintings they did yesterday. They couldn’t do that last night, oh, no. It’s got to be when I’m lathered up and in a hurry.”

“Heh.”

“What?”

“Trying to think of you in a lather.”

“One day, Red…”

“One day what?”

“When you—oh, never mind.”

She knew what he was going to say. One day when you have kids . But that day would probably never happen.

“Yeah. Sure.” What could she say?

They climbed up the stairs and, Henry, being a gentleman, opened the huge wooden door to the foyer for his partner.

“Hey, Clarence,” Morgan called out.

The gray-haired desk sergeant sat hunched over his paperwork, but he looked up at the greeting and glanced at her through hornrimmed glasses. “Hi, Morgan, Henry. How’s it going?”

“Good. How’re the grandkids?”

“Keeping me young.” He smiled.

“Good to hear, Clarence. Catch you later.” Morgan grinned back as she and Henry passed him to head to the detectives’ squad room.

The room was quiet, with the exception of a small group of officers from the night shift chatting around the coffeemaker as they 220

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waited for the shift change. After the obligatory “good mornings,”

Morgan headed to her desk and plopped herself down in her chair. It was going to be another long day; she could feel it. The morning was intense, not only because of the case Henry and Morgan were working, but also because Morgan was waiting for Morelli to make his big move. Besides one quick trip to the corner deli, she remained at her desk making phone calls all morning. The only good news was that Markham sent Morelli and his cronies back to their own cases, and she and Henry were finally left to their own devices. However, there was still the matter of a missing financial statement that was way overdue. She knew damned well Morelli didn’t give them to her on purpose. He wanted her to ask him for them.

“Morelli still hasn’t produced those financial records,” Morgan said to Henry. She shifted her chair back and stood up. “God, I hate this,” she said under her breath.

“Go get him, Red,” Henry said.

Morgan drew herself to her full height and placed herself in the part of her mind that was the sergeant. She strode over to Morelli’s desk with authority and looked down at him with as much intimidation as she could muster.

“Yeah? What do you want? It can’t be me. I’m the wrong sex.”

“Morelli, cut the crap. Where are the follow-up financial statements for Vaughan’s wife I asked you for?”

Morelli stood up. “Now let’s see… did I do them? You seen them, Fredericks?” His two cohorts snickered in response.

“Don’t start with me, pal.”

“I’m not your pal,” he bellowed, standing head to chest with Morgan. “You know, I’m getting really sick of this bullshit. Why don’t you just go and get hit by a train or something? Do us all a favor.”

“Hang on.” Henry was out of his chair in a split second. He stood at Morgan’s side before she could blink.

“Grow up, Morelli. I’m not going anywhere, so just get used to it.” But his comment added fuel to her already growing suspicion about his involvement in the hit-and-run. Was he so enraged with hate that he would do something as drastic as that? She glared at him, seeing an answering blaze in his eyes, his eyebrows knitted together in rage. At that particular moment, she would have said yes. “You want a piece of me? Huh?” She taunted him. “With this broken wrist, it might be the best chance you’ll ever have.”

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“That’s not much of a challenge.” He seemed to size her up, estimating his chances of taking her down.

“More like too much, I think. The only way you can handle a woman is unconscious and submissive. That’s about your level, isn’t it?”

“I don’t need them unconscious, O’Callaghan. They just fall all over me. So there must be something wrong with you.”

“No, Morelli, that’s not it. I’m just too much of a woman for you. See, I can say no and mean it.”

“At least I’m batting for the right team, you freak.”

“You know, that argument’s getting pretty old. Can’t you come up with something more original?”

“It’s the truth and everybody knows it.”

“The truth is up your ass, pal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” he said with pronounced venom. “I’m not your pal, and I’m never going to be your pal.”

“Once an idiot, always an idiot.”

She anticipated the shove and allowed her body to go with the push. “Well, well, well. Striking a superior.”

“You? Superior? That’s a laugh.” Morelli was slowly losing it.

“If I had you out in the alley…”

“If you had me out in the alley, Detective, you’d be lying on the ground. Don’t you dare threaten me, you little pissant.” Morgan turned her attention to Lowenstein. “You’re not going to give me trouble, too, are you?”

The lanky detective shook his head in disbelief, shuffling quickly through the papers on Morelli’s desk.

“Stop. What are you doing that for?” Morelli looked ready to burst.

“I want to keep my job, Frankie,” Lowenstein said quietly.

“You’re a friggin’ coward.”

“Sorry, Frank. I got a wife and kids at home.”

Morgan snatched the papers out of Lowenstein’s hand. “That’s two points for you, Lowenstein.”

As soon as Morgan turned her back, Morelli took a swing at her. The punch whistled through thin air as she anticipated it and ducked.

“What the fuck is going on here? I know I am not seeing two of my detectives fighting in my squad room. They bring back Candid Camera or something?”

No one had seen Markham enter the squad room, and he wasn’t laughing.

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“It was a one-sided fight, Captain.” Henry stepped forward in defense of his partner.

“Are you the bitch’s puppy now, Chang?” Morelli was beet red with anger.

“Morelli,” Markham said, “you owe Detective Chang an apology.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Morelli. Don’t make this any worse for yourself than it already is.”

“Worse than it already is? I have to work for a freaking queer here. What the hell is worse than that?”

“Sergeant, do you want to press charges?”

Morgan studied Morelli, wondering whether such an action would make things worse. “The detective’s leaving me no choice, Captain.”

“Maybe all these people here would like to know what you really are, O’Callaghan,” Morelli said, though desperation edged his voice. “You shouldn’t be allowed on the force, let alone in a position of authority. Who knows what’s going through that twisted brain of yours. Where you’re going to pick up your next victim? What weird-ass little freak sex games you can play? Huh? Is that what you think about? Huh?”

Morgan was close to pummeling him into next week, but that would achieve nothing. “Jesus, Francis,” she said, shaking her head.

“What kind of movies have you been watching?” She was pleased to see him cringe at her use of his first name.

“Look, I don’t have a problem,” she continued. “Obviously, you do. You’re the one thinking all kinds of weird-ass shit about me. Not to mention, you think you’re God’s gift to women, but I hate to tell you, pal, you’re not.” Morgan’s gaze slid momentarily to Velasquez, who gave her an answering nod. “According to you, every woman in this precinct is a lesbian because they won’t go out with you.”

She turned her attention to the surrounding crowd. “Have I ever given anyone here any cause or evidence to suggest that I’m some kind of threat? Or pervert?” She gave Morelli a disgusted little glance. “Am I so morally corrupt that you fear for your children? Anyone?”

There was a murmur of denial. “So, what do you guys think? The same as this strange little sleazeball, whose tiny little brain is in his balls? Or do you think he’s accusing me because he doesn’t like having a woman as a superior?”

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“All right, back to work,” Markham said. “Morelli, O’Callaghan, in my office. Now.” With one final glance at Morgan, Markham headed to his office. Morgan and Morelli followed.

“I’ve had it up to my neck with all this constant bullshit,”

Markham said as the door closed. “I have come to a decision, and one of you isn’t going to be happy.” He fixed his gaze on Morelli.

“Morelli, I’m recommending you for a psych assessment.”

“What?” He stared open-mouthed at Markham.

“No arguments. You need professional help.”

“What about her?” But Markham didn’t answer his question. “I got to go see a shrink, and that freak of nature gets nothing?”

“You just don’t see it do you, Morelli?” Markham asked with a scowl, his hands on his hips.

“See what? All I see is that I’m being blamed here. It’s her fault.”

“How is it her fault?”

“She’s an abomination, Captain. Perverts like her shouldn’t work on the force, corrupting the system with their freak shit! She’s got to go.”

“Are you listening to yourself? You assaulted her.”

“I know what I’m talking about,” Morelli said stubbornly.

“I think you need a break, Morelli. I’m authorizing a leave of absence for two weeks. During that time you are to attend regular psychiatric counseling. A psychiatric report from the attending doctor will be required before your return. Is that understood?”

“I’m suspended? For what?”

“Not suspended. You’re on two weeks’ medical leave. I’m trying to help you, Frank. Don’t be an idiot. Just do it.”

“I’m not the one that’s sick. Why the hell can’t anyone see that?”

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Markham said, and his voice was ice cold. “Before you go, leave your badge and gun. I’ll make arrangements with the doctor so you don’t forget.”

Morelli’s eyes blazed with fury. He snatched at his leather holster. His badge landed with a thump on the wooden desk, sounding as hollow as the atmosphere in the room. Morelli glanced at Morgan and mumbled as he threw open the glass door, “This isn’t over yet, Sergeant.”

Morgan barely heard the words over the loud bang of the door against the wall.

“That went well,” Markham said dryly.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

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“For what?”

“Me.”

“This only leaves me with one course of action.”

“It’s just getting worse by the minute, isn’t it?” She shifted uncomfortably.

“Hopefully, it’ll get him help.”

“If it does any good.”

“Time will tell, I suppose. Do you want to press charges for assault?”

“It’s probably not going to help the situation. No.”

“Good idea. Okay, that’s all for now.”

Morgan left the office. She should feel better now that things were settled. So why did she feel so awful? Morelli was finally out of her hair and getting some treatment, but somehow that didn’t give her the satisfaction she thought it would. Despite everything, she still felt a bit responsible for his downfall. Morgan returned to her desk, but Morelli was conspicuously absent. Apparently, after Markham’s directive he left the station house. Questioning of Fredericks and Lowenstein gave the captain some starting points for his whereabouts, but it seemed he hadn’t even told his friends where he was heading. Morgan didn’t have time to worry about it. She was once again focused on the McManus case. Perkins, the accountant, had arrived late the evening before and was cooling his heels in the lockup. Now it was time to find out why he ran.

“Mr. Perkins, you’ve been a hard man to track down. I’m Detective Sergeant Morgan O’Callaghan.” Morgan made the necessary introductions to Perkins, his lawyer, the ADA, and Henry as they made themselves comfortable in the interrogation room.

“Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?” Perkins said.

“We’re investigating the death of Rose McManus. You were at the Vaughan residence the morning Rose McManus died, were you not?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Morgan watched as Perkins’s fingers twisted together. He was nervous as hell.

“We found your fingerprints in the kitchen,” she said.

“They could have been there from the night before.”

“Mrs. O’Malley said she cleaned the countertops that morning before she went shopping. So your fingerprints could have been

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there only if you were in the kitchen after the cook left. What’s your connection to all of this?”

Perkins hung his head in defeat. “I was seeing Rose.”

Morgan sat back, interested. “How did you two meet?”

“We went to evening dance classes together. That’s where we met.”

“You knew she was dead. Isn’t that why you suddenly took off?”

“She was alive when I stopped by to have a cup of coffee with her that morning. It didn’t take long for the news of her death to travel through the company, Sergeant. I knew I’d be a suspect, so I was trying to be somewhere else fast.”

“But that looked very suspicious. Running can be seen as a sign of guilt.”

“I panicked.”

“Your supposed girlfriend had just been murdered, and you left. What does that say about your relationship?”

“We’d only been seeing each other socially for about two months. She was a lovely girl, and I enjoyed her company immensely.”

“How deep was this relationship?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“But it is, Mr. Perkins. Rose McManus is dead, and we have to look at all possibilities, including your involvement with her.”

“I hadn’t slept with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You’d been going out with her for two months, and you didn’t put a move on her?”

“I-I’m not very good around girls,” he stammered shyly. “I didn’t want to rush things.”

“How many girlfriends have you had in the past, Mr. Perkins?”

“And how is that relevant?” Perkins’s lawyer piped up.

“If he answers the question first, I’ll explain.”

“A couple, maybe.” But Perkins didn’t look Morgan in the eye.

“That tells me Mr. Perkins doesn’t go into a relationship lightly, Mr. Corliss. His comment about not having slept with the deceased is quite feasible, assuming, of course, he’s telling the truth.” Morgan consulted her notepad. “What time did you see Miss McManus?”

“Around seven in the morning, on my way to work.”

“What time did you arrive at work?”

“Around seven forty-five.”

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“Can anyone confirm that you were at work at that time up until, say, nine?”

“Sure. I was working on company estimates for the coming year with two other people.”

Morgan had already confirmed Perkins’s alibi, but his answer gave her a gauge of his sincerity. “For the moment, you’re free to go, but please confine yourself to this city. If you leave again, you’ll be placed under arrest and jailed until you are no longer a suspect. Do you understand that?”

His eyes met Morgan, and he hesitated. “Yes.”

Morgan felt some sympathy for him. After all, he had been dragged from Massachusetts to New York only to be set free a few hours later. At least now he could stay in his own home without worrying that he was a wanted man.

* * *

The only bright news of the afternoon was the arrival of the paperwork from IT for the missing funds from the Vaughan personal accounts. Morgan looked over the printout, not really understanding all the figures. It didn’t matter. It was the bottom line that she wanted to see. Someone had worked damned hard to hide the paper trail for the missing million dollars. A new surprise emerged. The paperwork from Morelli had shown that this subterfuge had been taking place for the last three years. That increased the amount to well over five million dollars. Morgan looked up from the printouts to study the two remaining Musketeers. She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing as she stood and walked over to their desks.

“Hey,” she said quietly, taking in the guarded looks of the two men. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.” Morgan waited for a response but got none. “So where do we go from here?”

“Go?” Fredericks watched her warily.

“Yeah. What am I supposed to do with you two?”

“What did we do?” Lowenstein seemed nervous, perhaps wondering if his job was on the line.

“Openly inciting insubordination and discrimination within the ranks, for starters. Tell me now so we can get on with this. Do you two share Morelli’s opinions in all this?”

“It was only just for fun,” Fredericks said.

“Sergeant. You address me as sergeant.”

“Huh?” Fredericks just didn’t get it.

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Morgan tried to maintain her patience. “Just for fun? The last time I checked, I outrank you. And you think inciting discrimination and hatred is fun? I think you need to reevaluate your ethics.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Lowenstein said.

“Didn’t do anything?” She looked at him. “You openly encouraged him. By egging him on, he really believed you thought the same way he did and you gave credence to his beliefs, at least in his eyes. And where did it get us? Now, he’s disappeared and in need of psychiatric help, all because you thought it was fun. Who do you think is really to blame here?”

“Hey. He’s the one—” Fredericks tried to add but Morgan cut him off.

“And you did nothing to stop it. It’s as much your fault as his. So this leaves me with a problem. What am I going to do with you guys?” Her vision shifted from one detective to another as if deciding their fate. “As far as I can see, you have three options. You stay here and start pulling your weight, you ask for a transfer, or you decide on a new career.” Morgan waited to see what their reaction would be.

“Er… uh…” Lowenstein stammered.

“Do we have to decide now?” Fredericks’ voice faltered.

“No, you don’t. Personally, I have no problem working with either of you. But be warned, you’ll be expected to be part of this team. No more slacking off or snide remarks. If you can’t cope with that, then maybe you’d better go elsewhere.” She didn’t wait for a reply and returned to her own desk.

“What are they doing?” she asked Henry.

“Sitting there like you hit them in the face with a dead fish. You do that intimidation thing really well.”

“I practice in front of the mirror.”

“Really?”

Morgan rolled her eyes at him. He was so gullible at times.

“Sometimes, Henry, I wonder how you ever made it through the academy.”

“Hey, O’Callaghan. Visitor.” Clarence’s voice echoed through the large room as he called from the far door.

“Coming.” Morgan strode down the passageway between the desks to the door and saw a tall, burly man with auburn hair. “Oh, shit.”

There stood the last person she wanted to see. “What part of

‘no’ don’t you understand, Brennan?” she asked coldly.

“Well, you won’t talk to me on the phone.”

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“Go home.”

“What’s up your ass?”

The conversation had been getting steadily louder. Morgan grabbed her brother’s arm and steered him into a vacant interrogation room.

“Now listen to me, I don’t want to see you,” she said.

“Coming here was the only way I could get you to talk to me, since you were making a habit of hanging up on me.”

“So you came all the way to New York to tell me that?”

“I was here on business, and before I left, I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“You’ve seen me, now get out of here.”

“What is your problem, Mo?”

“Don’t you call me that. You lost that right a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Brennan stared at her in confusion.

“Oh, come on. Ten years ago you three walked the hell out of here, and I never heard a word from you again. What gives you the goddamn right to waltz back into my life and suddenly decide to become my big brother again?”

“Because I am your big brother.”

She stepped closer, bringing her eye to eye with him. “No, you are no longer my brother.”

“And what the hell do you mean ‘didn’t hear a word from you again’? I wrote and talked to Dad all the time. We all did. You’re acting like he didn’t tell you.”

“That’s not going to work, Brennan. Nothing, we got nothing from any of you.”

“We all kept in touch with Dad and sent money to him all the time. Well, we sent it to his bank account. You know how Dad could be. Look, if you don’t believe me…” He extracted a small notebook from his inside pocket, pulled out a pen, and scribbled on a piece of paper. He handed it to her. “There. That’s the bank address and account number. Go check it out for yourself.”

“Trying to buy your way out of me smashing your face in, Brennan?”

“I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“I don’t need your favors.” She nearly jabbed him in the face with her finger.

“I would have thought that you, of all people, would want to know the truth,” he said, not faltering under the weight of Morgan’s stare.

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“The only truth I know is that you left.”

“I haven’t forgotten that,” he said stiffly.

“I think you have. You all have. You left us alone. Why?” That had been the burning question for the last ten years.

“We could see Dad was struggling to support five of us. He was slowly killing himself.” He turned to face the mirror. “Mo, the force was Dad’s life, but none of us wanted to be a cop. You were the only one who showed any interest.” He turned and leaned against the glass. “We left so the two of you could have a fighting chance.”

Morgan held his gaze, though she battled confusion and anger.

“Look,” he said, “just check out the bank account and give me a call.” He handed her his business card. “I’m heading back to L.A. tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” she murmured absently. Morgan’s brain was hurting from all the information she had been given lately.

“Brennan—”

“There’s no need, Mo. We were all in the dark here. We thought you were taking the money and ignoring us. Who knows? Maybe Dad was trying to keep you in New York instead of coming after us. We might never know the real reason.”

Morgan looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not dying or something, are you?”

“No. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You come all the way over here—”

“I told you, you kept hanging up on me. Besides it wasn’t that far from the Regency.” He gave her a wink.

“You could have sent an e-mail, a letter—”

“You never answered any of them before. Why would you change now? Anyway, maybe I just wanted to see you.” He smiled at her.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Take your time. Check out what I gave you. And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I know it’s probably ten years too late, but you’re still my sister.”

She stared blankly at the card, only aware that Brennan had left because the door closed with a click.

Morgan wandered back to her desk, the card sitting numbly between her fingers. Had her dad lied to her all these years? She knew Brennan wouldn’t give her details of an account that didn’t exist. Suddenly she had a need to go through her dad’s papers.

“Hey, Red. You okay?”

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“Huh?” Morgan looked up at Henry.

“Who was that?”

She gave him ‘the eye.’ He held up his hands in surrender before she relented. “That was my brother.”

“I thought you hated them.”

“Still do. For now.” She slumped in her chair. The phone rang, and Morgan leaned across to grab the receiver. “Fifth Precinct, O’Callaghan.”

“Hey, O’Callaghan.”

“Jerry. Hey.”

“I got some good news for you. The slug from the station house door matches the rifle you found yesterday.”

“Yeah? That’s great news. Thanks.”

“Later.”

Morgan looked up at Henry as she hung up the phone. “That was ballistics. The round and the rifle match. Let’s go have a little chat with Lenny.”

With effort, she pushed the chair back and stood. She walked toward Markham’s office with a report, while Henry organized for the prisoner to be brought up for questioning. After a few questions from the captain, Morgan was ready to interrogate the prisoner. Lenny’s counsel was also present, but she could see by his face that he thought the chance of some sort of conversation going on was remote.

“So, Lenny, enjoying your stay at Chez NYPD? Sorry about the a la carte menu. Not too many different ways to serve baloney and bread, I’m afraid.” Morgan’s comments were met with stony silence. “You’ve got no sense of humor, Lenny.”

“You’re full of shit,” he said.

Morgan glanced at Henry, who was, as usual, leaning against the far wall. “Probably. I keep telling myself to eat more fiber.” This man was no fun. “We checked out your apartment yesterday. It was most enlightening. I especially liked the decor. The rifle behind the refrigerator was a nice touch.”

He glared at her with lethal intensity.

“Now we’ve got you for two attempted murders. You left a round behind. We found the round that passed through the counselor buried in the station house door, and we matched it to a round from your rifle.” She watched as his jaw twitched. “So how about it? Feel like talking?”

“Drop dead, bitch.”

“Yeah, that’d make your day, wouldn’t it?”

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Morgan paced around the room. “Counselor, I would suggest that you talk to your client about cooperating. He’s starting to rack up those years in prison. Either he cuts a deal, or he’s going to be in there until they bring him out in a coffin.”

While the public defender tried to talk to Lenny, Morgan leaned against the wall near the door. She could see he wasn’t making any headway with Lenny, who steadfastly refused to talk to him. The lawyer looked over at her and shook his head.

“Okay, Lenny. That’s it.” She called out, “Officers!”

The two jail officers who had been on standby outside entered.

“Take him back to the tombs.”

After they left, Morgan turned to the lawyer. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. It doesn’t look like he wants help.”

“I’ll see you in court then, Sergeant.”

“Yep. Have a good one.”

“Well,” Henry said, “that was pointless as hell.”

“Yeah. Nothing we can do about it. Still, we have some good leads. Let’s get back at it.”

“I don’t get time off for good behavior?”

“Considering what you’ve been putting me through the last few days, I should be arresting you.”

“On what charge?”

“Invasion of privacy, impersonating my mother, and improperly sticking your nose up my butt.”

They left the interrogation room laughing.

Chapter 19

Morgan couldn’t wait to get home. Brennan’s visit had stirred up a number of emotions, not the least of which was her curiosity. As soon as she walked through the door, she went straight to the bedroom closet and pulled down a large box from the top shelf. She had never bothered to go through all of her dad’s papers because it was too emotionally draining, but she didn’t have the strength to throw them out, either. Thank God for small miracles. She wished she had gone through the piles of paper earlier. She found several marked envelopes in handwriting she barely remembered. She even found a bank letter concerning the account Brennan had mentioned. So he was telling the truth. What made her heart skip a beat was an envelope with her name on it. She studied the script, tracing the letters as if drawing her dad’s memory from it. Nervously, she broke the seal, almost hesitant to read it. Would this reveal all? Was this going to destroy all the good memories and reveal things she would rather not have known?

Morgan got a beer out of the fridge and took a swig to calm her nerves. Her hands were shaking. As much as she wanted to leave it alone, the letter was in her fingers before she realized she had even picked it up. She started reading.

“My Sweet MoMo…” Tears welled in her eyes. She could hear her dad saying that. She wiped her eyes on the hem of her shirt and began again.

My Sweet MoMo,

If you are reading this then it probably means… well, you know. I have some things to say, and I hope you can understand why I did what I did. You are my pride and joy, honey. I was never prouder of you than the day you graduated from the Academy. I know you’re upset with your brothers. Please, don’t be. They only did what they thought was best by leaving. I can’t be angry at 233

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them for trying to find their own lives. I never told you the boys kept in contact with me. I knew where they were even if you didn’t. I can just hear you now. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Why? Probably for selfish reasons. I was afraid if you found them you would be gone, too. I would be alone, Morgan. I couldn’t stand that. I needed you, and not for a housekeeper or a cook (God forbid!), but as my daughter, my sweet MoMo, and my buddy. We had some pretty good times. Watching the Yanks lose. Watching you whip me in poker. Sitting back with a beer and watching TV. Those were some of the best times of my life. I put you in a position by choosing your career for you, but I thought you loved the force as much as I did. If I was mistaken, then I’m truly sorry. I know I didn’t give you the opportunity to find your own way.

What could she say? It was like hitting a brick wall as her senses just stopped, waiting for the rest of her to catch up. This letter was changing all her preconceptions about her life. Was she angry about what he did? She wasn’t sure. She kept reading.

The boys also sent money monthly to me, but I put it aside for you. You had sacrificed so much for me, it was the least I could do. Please find enclosed a bank letter that should let you access the account when you feel ready to.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. In hindsight, I suppose I should have at least told you they had contacted me, but each time I tried to, I just couldn’t do it. I was comfortable with the way things were, and I suppose I just didn’t want to give that up. So I let you think they were assholes. Don’t hold it against them, Morgan. In the end they were good sons and did the right thing. Please don’t forget me, Sweet MoMo. You really were the only one I could count on. Please don’t think bad of me for what I did. I love you,

Dad

Morgan looked at the official letter from the bank, which provided account details and current balance at the time of writing. Her eyes widened. The amount said almost seventy-five thousand dollars. While it wasn’t a small fortune, it wasn’t an amount to be sneezed at, either. Ten years her brothers had been sending money to her dad, and she didn’t even know it.

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There were a number of letters bound together by a rubber band that caught her eye. She opened the first one. It was from Brennan. Did she want to do this right now? Mixed emotions roiled within her. Ten years’ worth of anger couldn’t be set aside in a heartbeat. She bundled the letters together and put them back in the box. They were for another time when she had a better handle on things.

She glanced at her watch and saw that she was late for a visit to the hospital. She put the box back in her closet and her father’s letter onto her bedside table. She would probably read it a few dozen times more in the next week, trying to absorb the memories that lay on the page. After locking up her apartment, Morgan set off for the hospital, not quite sure what she felt about her family. Andrea was coming home tomorrow, and Morgan didn’t know whether to be happy or scared. She’d been able to maintain a certain emotional distance in the starkness of the hospital room, but she wasn’t sure she could in the privacy of Andrea’s apartment. And she knew very well she was expected to visit. Often. The time was fast approaching when Morgan was going to have to make good on all those signs of affection.

She stood in front of the unopened door to Andrea’s room feeling strange, like a long-lost friend who had just been found was about to disappear. How many times had she crossed this portal in the last few days? Too many for her liking. Of course she would have preferred that Andrea wasn’t in the hospital at all. Morgan opened the door and peeked around the edge to see if Andrea was sleeping. To her surprise, Andrea was sitting on the edge of the bed studying her feet. She looked up and smiled as Morgan came in.

“Well hello there, Sergeant.”

Morgan’s emotional detachment went flying right out the window “Hi.” She was barely able to speak as her body was turning warm and fuzzy. Despite her promise to be strong, she found herself drawn toward the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Morgan managed to say, proud of herself for sounding so nonchalant. She walked to the side of the bed.

“Pretty good. I’m a little sore, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Are they still discharging you tomorrow?”

“Looks like it. Unless, of course, something happens in the meantime.”

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“Then you’re home free,” Morgan said absently.

“Yep. Are you okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You seem a little distracted.”

“Do I? Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“Just a lot going on at work, that’s all.” Morgan smiled wanly. She saw no need to dredge up all the confusion she felt about her family. That was better left for another time.

“So nothing else is bothering you? Like, say, me?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, first of all, you’re not denying it. Second, you haven’t kissed me yet. And third, you’re standing there like you have a stick up your butt.”

“I didn’t realize you were counting.”

Andrea patted the space next to her on the bed. “C’mon. Tell Auntie Andy what the problem is.”

“Auntie Andy? So now you’re an advice columnist?”

“Yep. By night I’m a masked superhero do-gooder,” Andrea said, drawing an answering chuckle from Morgan. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Morgan whispered as she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Andrea’s soft cheek. “Stop worrying.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Morgan tried not to look into Andrea’s eyes, she really did, but she couldn’t help herself. Should she burden Andrea with her problems? Somewhere along the line, she was going to have to put some trust in this relationship. Maybe now was the time after all.

“I had a visit from one of my brothers today.”

Andrea studied her for a moment before responding. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I thought so. We haven’t been on the best of terms.” Was that ever an understatement.

“What did he want?”

“He…” Morgan hesitated. If she said any more it was going to require an explanation. But she had done that once, and her world didn’t crash into a heap. Maybe she could do it again.

“He wanted to mend some bridges.”

“And why is that important?”

“Because…” Morgan took a deep breath. “Because my dad made me believe my brothers didn’t care about us.”

“Why on earth would he do that?”

“Why? I’m still trying to get my mind around that one.”

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“Is it anything to do with what happened to you before you became a detective?”

Shit. “I’m going to kick Henry’s butt for this.”

“Don’t you dare. I asked and he answered.” But Morgan said nothing. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

It was a monumental decision. Telling Henry was one thing. He was her best friend, her confidante, and most of all, he was her partner. Andrea was something else. But what? She didn’t quite know what to call their relationship. It was in transition from friends to something more.

Andrea touched Morgan’s hand. “It’s all right. I’m here.”

“I was beaten up.” Morgan blurted it out before her courage failed. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would explode. She looked at Andrea, expecting to see disgust, sympathy, or even horror. She was met with anger.

“Who did it? That bastard.”

Morgan looked on with surprise as Andrea bristled.

“That slimy son-of-a-bitch.”

“Calm down.” Morgan wasn’t sure she could calm down, either. She was having a panic attack just thinking about it. “Dad’s partner was responsible.”

“I don’t want to calm down. He beat you?”

“Not him personally. Three mob guys broke into the apartment. They made dad watch. It broke him.”

Andrea reached up and brushed at the tear on Morgan’s cheek.

“And you, too, by the looks of it. Now I understand.” She continued to gently rub her thumb on Morgan’s cheek. “So how do you know it was your dad’s partner?”

“One of them said, ‘Tell Larry that Angelo says thanks.’ Larry was Dad’s partner.”

“That would do it. So what did you do about it?”

“Nothing. There was nothing I could do.”

“He got you beat you up and you took it?”

“It was a bruise here and there. The mental torture was what nearly broke me. The threats, the lies, the promises. They knew things about me and Dad that left us vulnerable. We had nowhere to hide from them, Andrea.”

“What about the law?”

“It was Larry’s word against ours. He had friends in high places, ones who would make sure he never got prosecuted. We weren’t going to risk our friends and family over a beating.”

“That sucks,” Andrea muttered.

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Morgan looked away. “So now you know why I am the way I am.”

“Yeah. That sort of betrayal would destroy your trust in your fellow man.”

Morgan returned her gaze to Andrea and saw sympathy. “I’m sorry I was such an ass at the beginning.”

“And you’re not an ass now?” Andrea said, but she added a smile.

“Sometimes, but I’m working on it.” Morgan smiled back.

“So, what about your brothers while all this was going on?”

“My three brothers took off as soon as they were able. That left me and Dad. Let’s just say from that day they were no longer my brothers.”

“They didn’t keep in touch at all?”

“I thought they didn’t. I’ve just discovered they’d been in regular contact with Dad and had been sending him a little money.”

“That sounds like they cared.”

“I didn’t even know he had it. He’d been saving it for me.” She didn’t like talking about money with someone who probably used what her brothers had given her as pocket change.

“How long was this going on? Ten years? It should be a tidy nest egg for you.”

Andrea didn’t ask, but Morgan could see she was curious.

“According to the bank letter, it was seventy-five thousand dollars. I didn’t check the date on it, so it could be more.”

“That’s not ‘a little.’”

“A year’s wages, yeah. It moves me one year closer to that place on the coast.” Morgan was drained. “Can we drop all this?”

“Yes. Back to us.” A grin touched Andrea’s lips.

“Us?” Morgan groaned. “You have a one-track mind.”

“Well one of us has to.”

Morgan suddenly realized how physically close they were. She tried to put some space between them. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay.” Andrea sounded reluctant.

“What time do I pick you up tomorrow?”

“You’re going to take me home?”

“Of course. Who else would?”

“I can catch a cab.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Morgan teased.

“Not much for me, unless you were in there with me.”

“Hmm. Can I trust you?”

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“Trust me? What do you think I’m going to do, Sergeant? Jump your bones?”

Morgan dropped her gaze to the floor and Andrea laughed.

“Oh, come on. It will be broad daylight and in a taxi. Then there’s your broken wrist and the hole in my shoulder.”

“Er… ah… of course. I—that is, I wasn’t suggesting anything.”

The hole Morgan was digging for herself was getting deeper.

“Yeah, sure. Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried.” Morgan’s voice was a tight squeak.

“Right.”

“I’m not. Stop it.”

Andrea squeezed Morgan’s hand. “You’re taking me home. How about we go for some lunch after that? I’m dying to get out into the world again.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“Who cares?”

“Hey, if he says rest, you rest.”

“Like you did, you mean?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I’m a police officer. My job comes before an injury.” Yeah, right. God, next time try saying something that doesn’t sound so friggin’ stupid, she added to herself.

“Uh-huh. I’m fine, really. The wound’s healing beautifully, and I’m eager to get the hell out of here before I climb the walls. Just humor me, okay?”

“Fine,” Morgan said tightly.

“Please.”

The soft plea tore at Morgan’s heart. She looked into Andrea’s eyes. “Okay. Let’s not fight. You and me, we’ve come a long way in a short time. Found something pretty good, too. So let’s not mess that up.”

Andrea sighed deeply. “You’re right. I am so not good at this relationship stuff.”

Morgan looked at her with surprise. “No kidding?” Andrea chuckled and the sound warmed Morgan’s heart.

“Everything will be fine,” Andrea promised. Morgan trembled as Andrea kissed her with infinite care and gentle entreaty. There was no escalation into wild passion. Morgan found solace in the soft touching of lips.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

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Should she? Morgan had to admit that Andrea’s parents were an enigma, so she asked. “Tell me about your family.”

* * *

Morgan collapsed onto her bed when she got home. She and Andrea had talked and talked to the point of exhaustion, and Morgan had forgotten the time. She smiled thinking about how cute Andrea was and how animated she got when talking about things she liked. Morgan’s long-held convictions were slowly fading, replaced by an almost giddy joy at finally finding someone to share her life with. Still thinking about Andrea, Morgan fell asleep. Her cell phone rang. Disoriented, it took her a few moments for her to realize where she was. Her hand fumbled around on the bedside table for the elusive object.

“Yeah?” she sleepily answered.

“Sergeant? Sorry to wake you. Counselor Worthington’s been attacked.”

“Say that again? Shit.” She swung her legs out of bed. “Okay, I’m on my way.” She hung up and anxiously punched Henry’s number. “Hey. We have an emergency. Can you pick me up on the way to the hospital?” Morgan tried very hard to keep her voice calm.

“What now?” Henry paused. “Is it Andy?”

The question hit a nerve and Morgan nearly lost it. “Yeah. Someone tried to kill her.”

* * *

Morgan and Henry stood in the hospital corridor, waiting for the doctor to finish his checkup of Andrea. “I don’t get this,” Henry said. “I thought we had the man.” His confused expression mirrored Morgan’s own.

“We had the hired man, not the person who wants her dead. They just hired someone else to finish the job.”

Captain Markham stepped out of the elevator. “How is she?”

Markham’s concern showed in his tone.

“She’s fine,” Morgan said. “The duty nurse was doing her rounds and walked in just as the guy was about to put a pillow over her head. She screamed. He took off.”

“What kind of description did she give?” Markham’s brow creased in anger.

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“He looked like, and I quote, ‘the Empire State Building,’”

Henry said.

“So we’re looking for a tall moving building in Art Deco.”

Now was not the time for jokes, but the image was just so ludicrous that Morgan couldn’t stop the comment.

“Sounds like it.” Markham gave a bleak grin. The doctor emerged from the room, and Morgan moved swiftly to him. “Can I see her?” she asked.

“Sure. She’s been asking for you.”

Morgan didn’t dare look at either Henry or Markham for their reaction. She quickly entered Andrea’s room and saw her sitting up in bed while a nurse was taking her blood pressure.

“I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I?” Morgan tried to sound reassuring to hide the dread and fear in her voice.

“Looks like it,” Andrea said with a tired smile. “I might just have to keep you around all the time.”

“Where are the uniforms who were on duty?” Morgan asked the nurse.

“They were found unconscious. They’re being looked at now.”

Just as well, she thought. If they had been anywhere else but unconscious their asses would be hers. “Can you check up on them for me, please? When you’ve finished here.” She was probably asking a lot, but it was a big hospital, and all it would take for the nurse would be a phone call. Besides, Morgan didn’t want to leave just yet.

Morgan waited for the nurse to disappear before she approached the bed. “How are you really?”

“Fine. A little shaken up. Stop worrying. I didn’t even know he was there until the nurse screamed and woke me up.” Andrea grabbed Morgan’s hand. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “I thought you had the guy.”

“So did we.”

“What’s going on, then?”

“Someone wants you out of the picture. Permanently.” Morgan tried to think of a more eloquent way of putting it, but opted for the truth. “Look, I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the Vaughan case at all. It’s like someone is using that as a diversion from the true reason behind all of this.”

Andrea’s jaw clenched. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to the captain.”

Andrea gripped Morgan’s hand tighter.

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“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“About as well as can be expected, knowing someone out there wants me dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said, trying to be soothing. “But know this. I’ll protect you with my life.”

Andrea held Morgan’s gaze. “I know.”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Morgan leaned over and kissed Andrea’s cheek. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Go and do what you have to do.”

“Don’t go anywhere.” Morgan winked at her as she left the room to meet with Henry and Markham. They congregated around the coffee machine in the waiting room, discussing the turn of events.

“O’Callaghan,” Markham said. “They’re obviously stepping up their campaign to get to the counselor. We’re going to have to take more drastic measures to protect her.”

“Drastic?” She looked over at Henry but his eyes were firmly fixed on the floor.

“Are you up to it?” Markham asked.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get Worthington out of here. Tonight. Find some motel and hole up there until we can set up a safe house. You lay low while we try to figure this out.”

Just as Morgan thought would happen. “Okay. I’ll call Henry once we’re settled.”

Markham reached for his wallet and extracted a number of bills. “Here.”

“Am I getting a raise or something?” Morgan asked sweetly. He glared at her. “Stop fucking around. This is serious.”

“I know. But if I don’t joke, I’m going to stress out.” She took the cash.

“Don’t use any credit cards,” Markham said, emphasizing what Morgan already knew. “At all. No calling cards, either. Pay cash for everything. We don’t need you getting traced. Oh, and save the receipts, you know, for accounting.”

Always the administrator. “Gotcha.”

“Well, that’s it, then.” Markham turned to leave when Morgan grabbed his wrist.

“Wait. Who’s going to tell Andrea?” Morgan looked first at Markham then Henry. They stared back at her. Shit.

“All right. I guess that means me. Buncha damn chickens.”

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“Hell, yeah,” Henry said with exaggerated relief. “Damn right I’m chicken. I’ve heard her have a go at being protected before. You’re not catching me anywhere near her.”

“Okay,” Markham said. “We’ll get things moving on our end. I’ll speak to the doctor on the way out to arrange any medical care for you two. I’ll get Velasquez to drive you since both of you are in no shape to drive yourselves.”

Markham left but Henry hung back. “So,” he said and hesitated.

“Yeah. I know. I hope to see you soon.”

“You, too, Red. Take care of our girl, won’t you?”

“Sure will.”

The inconsequential chatter covered the real emotion between them. Henry pulled Morgan into a hug that had her floundering. It took a moment for her to react, but she finally wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back.

“You take care,” he said as he released her. “I don’t want to have to go looking for another partner.”

“Me either. I’ve finally broken you in, and I don’t want to have to train another one.”

“Yeah. That’s a lot of work.” He looked up at her. “Take care. I know Suzie and the kids are looking forward to having you visit for Thanksgiving.”

“I will.” She thought for a moment. “And you were right, damn it.” They started walking up the corridor toward Andrea’s room.

“Right?” He looked at her quizzically. She gave him a shy smile. “Oh.” He laughed. “Knew you’d come around to my way of thinking sooner or later.”

“G’wan, get out of here.” When they reached the nurses’

station, Morgan shoved Henry toward the elevators. “I’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

“Okay. Until then, you be careful, Mo.”

“Always.”

He stepped into the elevator and lifted a hand in goodbye as the doors closed.

Morgan went back into Andrea’s room. She perched on the side of the bed and sifted through an assortment of explanations as to why they would be leaving tonight.

“Where did everyone go?” Andrea asked when Morgan sat next to her.

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There was really no point in beating around the bush, so Morgan tackled the issue like she did so many things in life—headon. “We’re going to go into hiding for a while.”

“Things are that serious?”

“Andrea, this is attempt number three. How many more attempts do you want?”

“You have a point.”

Andrea’s nonchalance was unnerving, but Morgan could see the taut lines around her mouth. She was worried, and she had every right to be.

“So where are we going?”

“Velasquez will drive us to a hotel for the night. That will give them time to organize something a bit more… um…” Morgan didn’t want to put a dampener on the conversation.

“Permanent?” Andrea asked. “Is that what you’re trying not to tell me?”

“In a way, yes. We’re not much closer to an answer than we were with the hit-and-run.” But she had her own ideas on that particular incident. “We might have caught one of them, but now there’s another out there picking up where the first one left off. How many more are out there?”

“Stop worrying.” Andrea reached out and patted Morgan’s hand.

“Stop worrying? You’re kidding, right? Aren’t you at least a bit crazy with not knowing why? I know I would be.”

“That’s probably the detective in you. Me? Well I have faith you will protect me and solve the mystery. Don’t you have any faith in your own department?”

“Of course I do.” But that wasn’t the point. Morgan was frustrated with the slow speed of progress in the case.

“Then stop worrying.”

But for Morgan, trying not to worry about Andrea was like trying to stop breathing. Impossible.

Chapter 20

Velasquez arrived at Andrea’s room an hour later with a duffel bag.

“What took you so long?” Morgan snapped.

“Yeah, good to see you, too, O’Callaghan.”

“Sorry.” Morgan stopped and started over. “Hi, Velasquez. Thanks for the lift.”

“Much better, Sergeant.”

“What’s the deal?”

“Here are some clothes for the counselor. They probably won’t fit too well, but it was the best I could do without a break and enter at her apartment.” Velasquez placed the bag on the end of Andrea’s bed.

“You could have asked for the key, you know.” Andrea looked around. “Er, if I knew where the key was.”

“I took care of it. I hope you don’t mind.” Morgan smiled at her apologetically. “I didn’t want it to get lost in the shuffle.”

“Really?”

Morgan took her keys out of her pocket and threaded Andrea’s apartment key off the ring. As she handed it over to Velasquez, she stole a glance at Andrea. If it was her, she would have been pissed as hell for someone commandeering her house key, but Andrea seemed amused with the idea. No, not amused. Morgan glanced again and saw something more.

“When did that happen?” Andrea nodded toward the handful of keys.

What had she done? Then it suddenly hit her. The key was on her key ring, mixed together with her own apartment keys. It could nearly be construed as an intimate gesture. “Er… I ended up with your belongings, so I thought it was safer if I held onto it.” But even to her ears, the excuse sounded weak. She wasn’t sure why she did it. Maybe it was a way of connecting to Andrea while she was recovering.

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Velasquez looked from one woman to the other then backed away toward the door. “I’ll be in the corridor when you’re ready.”

“Can you send in the nurse?” Morgan asked.

“Sure.” The door slowly closed behind Velasquez as she left.

“Surely, you can help me get changed,” Andrea said.

“Ah… no. I don’t want to make things worse.”

“More awkward, you mean.”

Andrea had her pegged. “Maybe.” Morgan felt a familiar rush of panic as they once again approached the boundary of intimacy. She had never been so relieved as she was then when the duty nurse entered. “Ms. Worthington needs a hand getting dressed.” Morgan backed away from the bed.

Andrea mouthed “chicken” at the retreating Morgan, who did nothing to deny it.

“All right, Ms. Worthington. Let’s get you dressed.”

Andrea sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed while the nurse placed a supporting hand on her back. She reached for the bag and opened it. Her eyebrow rose as she studied the clothes inside. Morgan held up her hands and shook her head. The moment Andrea reached for the buttons on her pajamas, Morgan made her escape.

“Did you get thrown out?” Velasquez leaned against the far wall sipping a coffee.

“Nope. Made a hasty retreat.” Morgan’s gaze dropped to the cup of coffee in Velasquez’s hand.

“Got it from the coffee machine in the waiting room.”

“Thanks.” Did she really want to drink coffee from a dispensing machine? Could it be any worse than what passed for coffee at work? She considered the exercise more a matter of filling in time than actually drinking something palatable. Morgan went down the hall, her senses absorbing everything going on around her. How did that big guy get past everyone and into Andrea’s room? Maybe he already worked here and had the ID to get him past the guards. She reached for her cell then noted the warning signs about turning off cell phones. “Damn.”

She walked to the elevator and pressed the button to go down. She didn’t want to leave, but this was important and she needed to contact Henry.

The trip down seemed interminable. She was overtired and not really in shape for more complications. Her wrist had been acting up, and she had reluctantly dipped into her supply of painkillers. How long did a broken wrist take to heal, anyway? She knew she 247

was being unreasonable, but there was too much to do and she needed both hands.

She stepped out into the cool night air and pulled out her cell.

“Forgive me, Henry.” She knew only too well what time it was when she hit the speed dial.

“Hello? Not again?”

“Hello to you, too, sleepyhead.”

“I’m not at home, Red. I’m at the office.”

“Oh. What about Suzie?”

“She understands.”

“Sure she does.” But Morgan doubted that. She had seen too many police marriages fail because of the job. “I had a thought. What if this guy actually worked at the hospital? That would give him the authorization to enter her room.”

“But wouldn’t they know him on sight?”

“Not if he worked in some area that doesn’t have direct contact with the ward.”

“It’s a possibility. I’ll check it out. Anything else?”

“Nope. We’re about to leave. I’ll touch base with you in the morning.”

“So you’ll be sleeping with the counselor while us poor saps work through the night.”

“Don’t remind me,” Morgan said nervously.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t think tongues will be wagging about this?”

“What do you care what they think? Ah yeah, the promotion.”

“I’ve given that idea the boot. Can’t leave you alone to your own devices, can I?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Henry said sourly.

“Henry, never doubt your importance to me, okay? Andrea asked if I had faith in my department. I told her I had faith in you.”

Well, she did think that and Henry needed to hear it, so a little white lie was in order.

“Thanks, boss.” He sounded a lot happier after the compliment.

“Anyway, got to go. I just wanted to pass along the thought.”

“I should have that information for you when you call.”

“You better, hot shot. I don’t want to tell the counselor that you fell at the first hurdle.”

“Good night to you, too.”

Morgan disconnected the call and chuckled. Henry was one in a billion. She gazed at the sky and breathed deeply. God, she was so tired. Maybe she would take some of that vacation time after all.

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Slowly she shuffled her feet, headed back inside the hospital, and took the elevator to Andrea’s room. As she approached she found Velasquez exactly where she had left her.

“Did you like the coffee that much?” Velasquez asked.

“What?”

“No coffee cup.”

“Oh. Nah, didn’t get that far. I went downstairs to make a call to Henry. I was wondering whether this perp might have worked at the hospital, since he managed to get past the uniforms at the door.”

“That’s a possibility.” Velasquez looked thoughtful. She was about to leave when Morgan stopped her.

“Leave that to Chang, Yelena. Your job is to get us out of here.”

“But, I’m here,” she said.

Morgan thought for a moment. “Be back in five minutes, you hear me?”

“Sure, boss.” She smiled at Morgan.

As Morgan watched her walk away, she muttered, “So now I’m boss to everyone. Go figure.” Henry had a lot to answer for. Morgan rested against the far wall, in the exact same spot Velasquez had been leaning, waiting for the nurse to emerge. A few minutes later, the nurse opened the door and wedged it open. Andrea was seated on the bed, waiting for the nurse to slip on her borrowed shoes. Morgan’s gaze met with Andrea’s and she smiled at her, trying to give her some comfort that everything would be fine. The duty doctor arrived and gave Andrea’s wound a final check, apparently satisfied that it was still closed. He handed over a paper bag.

“What’s this for?” Andrea opened it and peeked inside.

“Just a few emergency supplies in case you run into trouble.”

“Trying to get rid of us, Doc?” Morgan asked from the doorway, leaning against the frame as Andrea was attended to.

“It’s probably safer for all concerned.”

“That’s true. We’ll be out of your hair as soon as”—Morgan felt Velasquez come up beside her—”our driver arrives.” Morgan turned her head to look directly at the detective. “Any luck?”

“In five minutes?” Velasquez asked, looking incredulous.

“Hey, you were the one who asked for those five minutes, remember?”

“I got things rolling, so when Chang calls they’ll have the information for him.”

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“Good work, Yelena.” Morgan was amused at the slight lift of Velasquez’s shoulders. It seemed her praise was worth something. Morgan looked over at Andrea. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Suddenly Andrea’s voice sounded unsteady.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you.” Morgan moved over to the bed and extended her hand.

With trepidation Andrea gripped it, silently giving Morgan approval to guide her.

“Thanks, Doc, for everything.” Morgan gave the doctor a nod before slowly leading Andrea toward the door. “All right, let’s go.”

Velasquez moved ahead with the bag. She pushed the button for the elevator while Morgan guided Andrea to the foyer. When the doors slid open, they stepped inside. So far, so good. The quiet hum of the elevator was all that could be heard for some seconds. Morgan’s curiosity got the better of her. “Where are we going?” She took the paper bag out of Andrea’s hand and gave it to Velasquez, who slipped it in the side pocket of the overnight bag.

“Down to the parking garage.”

“No. What motel?”

“The Maquis,” Velasquez said. “It’s on Bowe Street, heading toward Chinatown.”

“I don’t know that one,” Morgan said thoughtfully.

“If you’re not sure, I can find another one.” Velasquez looked first at Morgan then Andrea.

“No that’s all right. I’m sure it’s fine.” Morgan moved closer to Andrea trying to give her strength from her presence. The elevator opened at the parking level, and they walked toward a dark sedan. Andrea held onto Morgan’s hand the whole time, and Morgan ignored Velasquez’s glances. She knew Andrea was nervous, and if she needed the contact to feel safe, then damn the consequences.

“We’re not going to do something stupid like hide, are we?”

Andrea asked.

“That’s what the motel is for,” Morgan said.

“No, silly. In the car. I’m not expected to curl up into a ball or anything, am I?”

“God, I hope not.” That would be the final straw for Morgan.

“Not necessary,” Velasquez said, although there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Morgan gently helped Andrea into the backseat. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

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“Mmm,” Andrea said, but to Morgan she didn’t sound very convincing.

“We’ll be there soon,” Morgan said in a soothing tone. She sat next to Andrea and helped buckle her seatbelt before fastening her own.

“All ready?”

“Yep.”

Velasquez backed out of the parking spot and drove slowly out of the underground parking garage. She looked both ways to check for traffic, pulled out onto the road, and headed toward their destination.

The roads were quiet at this time of night. Anyone tailing them would be noticed. Morgan looked out the back window and thought she saw something. “Did you see that?”

“What?” Velasquez cast a quick look in the rearview mirror.

“Relax.” She accelerated. “Everything’s fine.”

“Oh, now I feel real safe,” Morgan said with a sigh. Despite Velasquez’s careful driving, they felt every shift of the car, from starting and stopping to potholes and manhole covers to swerving around badly-parked cars.

The car finally slid to a gentle stop. “We’re here. I’ll be back later in the morning,” Velasquez said. “Two officers are outside in an unmarked car if you need them, otherwise you’re on your own.”

Morgan opened the door for Andrea to step out then moved to the front passenger door. She opened the door with her good hand, reached in for the overnight bag, and slammed the door shut. The sedan sped off down the road, leaving the two of them on the sidewalk. Morgan moved to Andrea’s side as they made their way up the steps to the front door. With her good shoulder, Morgan shifted the massive wood and glass door open so they could enter the lobby. Very nice. While this hotel wasn’t a Hilton or a Sheraton, it was clean and organized, exuding a quiet elegance of days gone by.

They crossed the lobby to the front desk and were met by an immaculately dressed middle-aged man who asked in a well-bred voice, “May I help you, madam?”

“I believe we have a reservation,” Morgan said. She couldn’t help but notice the man’s eyes look at the clock on the wall.

“Ah yes, a last-minute booking.” The desk clerk looked down the registry, his brow creasing at the entries made. He looked up again at her, curiosity written on his features. Sighing, Morgan reached into her pocket and extracted her badge. 251

“I’ll find a bellboy to show you to your room.” He was about to hit the bell when Morgan interrupted him.

“No need. It’s the middle of the night, and I’m sure we can find our own way.” Besides, there was no way in hell she was going to pay some pimply-skinned kid ten bucks to take a ride with them in the elevator when she was capable of finding the room herself. Morgan looked at her watch. “Oh, and can I order a continental breakfast for two at nine a.m. please?”

“As you wish, madam.”

Morgan walked off, leaving the desk clerk at his station.

“Madam. Who does he think I am? A brothel manager? Pfft.” She steered Andrea toward the elevator and pushed the button. The

“ding” sounded loud and intrusive as it announced the elevator’s arrival. Morgan guided Andrea in and pushed the floor number. She glanced at Andrea and could see that she was tired. Hell, she was exhausted herself. It was—Morgan looked at the clock—

two a.m. No wonder she felt so sluggish. The first thing she was going to do, besides using the bathroom, was collapse on the bed. The adrenaline high was finally wearing off, and they barely made it to the door of their room. Andrea leaned against the wall while Morgan fumbled with the keycard.

“Are we there yet?” Andrea mumbled.

“Very funny, Miss Congeniality. That’s all I need. A lawyer with a sense of humor.” The lock gave way and she opened the door. “Finally.” She sighed, looking at Andrea’s exhausted but happy face. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

Morgan walked inside and was glad to see that the room was spacious and clean. “Not bad.” As soon as the door closed, she secured the two locks.

“Oh, yeah.”

Morgan turned at Andrea’s comment. Morgan couldn’t see Andrea’s face, but she was looking at something in the room. She followed her gaze. Oh, crap. One bed. “For Pete’s sake, will you stop that? Let me see if I can fix this.”

“Forget it. You’re too tired to jump my bones.”

“Too tired? Me?”

“You’re not too tired? Oh, my lucky day.” Andrea chuckled.

“I’m joking, Sergeant.”

“You are treading in very dangerous territory, Counselor.”

“You? Dangerous?” Andrea held up her hand before she got a reply. “Look, that trip in the car made me realize that I’m nowhere

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near being fit for any kind of activity, all right? The double bed is fine.”

“You sure?” Morgan wasn’t up to arguing with the hotel clerk right now.

“Yes. I’m sure.” Andrea sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Before you collapse, how about we change into something more comfortable?” Morgan asked, and then she realized how that sounded.

“Now there’s an invitation I can’t refuse.”

“I can’t have a straight conversation with you, can I?” Morgan threw her hands up in frustration.

“Sorry. I get kind of silly when I’m tired.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Morgan reached for the overnight bag and emptied the contents on the bed. “Is this all Velasquez gave you?” A redundant question, at best.

“Of course it is. It’s not like we stopped and did some shopping on the way here.”

“Yeah, I know. My brain’s a bit slow.” Morgan assessed the clothing. “You might have to settle for this.” She held up an oversize T-shirt.

“It’s not like I’ve got a choice, huh?” Andrea snatched it out of Morgan’s hands and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Damn.” Morgan wished she had detoured to the bathroom first. Her bladder was sending out urgent signals for relief. To occupy herself, she tucked her gun away in the bedside drawer and stripped down to something a bit more comfortable for sleeping.

“Next,” Andrea called as the bathroom door opened. She was nearly knocked out of the way as Morgan rushed by her. “In a hurry, are we?” But the door was already closed even as she spoke. In a matter of minutes, the door opened again and Morgan stepped out with a sigh. “That’s better.” She looked at Andrea sitting on the right side of the double bed. “Do you mind if I have the right side?”

“Right facing the bed or right lying down?”

“Right facing the bed. It’s closest to the door.” If someone broke in, Morgan would have a clear shot. Actually she had already claimed that side of the bed with her revolver in the bedside table drawer.

“Sure, not a problem. I’m too tired to argue.”

“It’s been a long night, huh?”

“You said it.” Andrea moved to her side of the bed and crawled in between the sheets.

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Some time later, Morgan’s cell phone rang and she grabbed it before it woke Andrea up. The room was lighter, and she could see daylight in the cracks of the drawn curtains.

“Hello?” She kept her voice low.

“Hey there, partner.”

“And what did I do to deserve this call?” Morgan said, but she was glad to hear Henry’s voice. “What time is it?”

“It’s after eight. Just thought I’d fill you in on what’s happening on this end.”

“Good. So shoot.”

“I’m glad you don’t say that when we’re arresting someone.”

“Just get on with it.”

“Oh, cranky, cranky. Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

When there was no response, he continued. “Keep your shirt on. Or maybe not.” He laughed.

“Henry,” Morgan growled, “get to the point.”

“Okay. I interviewed Grace Parker a short while ago. It seems she had a message from her boss to stop by and pick up some work the morning of Rose’s murder. She had a quick word with the deceased before collecting the paperwork and leaving. Or so she says.”

“Huh. Do you think she’s capable of murdering Rose?”

“I really don’t know. She’s kind of a wallflower, but then those quiet types can have emotions that run deep.”

“Maybe she’s the mysterious Lauren. Keep digging. See what you can come up with. Did you have any luck with you-knowwho?”

“Who?”

“Don’t make me say his name, Henry. A certain person who sits near you.”

“Well, you know…” There was a pause. “Sorry, just getting a cup of coffee.” Then another pause. “That night is a bit vague. I can’t seem to pin down his whereabouts, but I can’t find anything to pin him to the hit-and-run, either. If you can’t get him to confess, I’m afraid it’s a wash.”

“I’m not surprised. I suppose I’m going to have to chalk this one up to him, but if he so much as looks at me wrong, I’ll—”

“Whoa, boss, settle down. He’ll trip up one day. The law of averages says so.”

“You’re right.” Morgan took a deep breath and let the anger slide by her. Morelli’s justice would have to wait for another day.

“Anything else?”

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“We’ve found you somewhere to stay.”

“Good.” At least Morgan would be able to have a room separate from Andrea, maybe.

“But it’s not the Ritz.”

Oh, no. Morgan could feel the bad news coming even before Henry spoke. How bad could it be?

“My family has a factory in Chinatown.”

Pretty bad. “Okay.”

“There’s a room above the office that’s made up with a bed, a small bathroom, and cooking facilities.”

“Stay there often, do you?”

“Nah. Dad keeps it made up for when Auntie Li Lu kicks Uncle Wang out. He nearly has a permanent reservation there.”

“Uncle Wang?” Now that was a name that could garner a lot of comment.

“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” Morgan wasn’t about to insult his family.

“Anyway, the factory’s closed for the moment for renovations, and Uncle Wang’s behaving himself. You now have a reservation at the luxurious Chang’s Noodle Factory down on Mott Street. Dad’s putting in a second bed for you two as we speak. Velasquez will be by to pick you up at ten.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Dad’s putting in a camp bed, so I can guarantee you’re not going to get much sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She hesitated. “If something weird happens, and I call, you’ll come, right? No questions asked?” There was no need to mention it, but somehow Morgan needed the affirmation. They were moving into an area of town that would be nearly empty in the dead of night.

“Of course. You know that. I’ll be on my bike as soon as the phone rings.”

“Thanks.”

“Nervous?”

“I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.”

“I’ll await your call,” Henry said.

“Thanks. You’re the best partner a girl could ask for.”

“Just remember that when you’re my boss.”

“I am your boss.”

“You keep thinking that.” With that Henry hung up, leaving her smiling.

She nudged Andrea. “Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up.”

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“Mmm.”

“Oh, no, no, no. Time to wake up. Awake now. Sleep later.”

Morgan placed a hand on Andrea’s hip and shook her. “We’ve got two hours to be ready.”

“I can do it in one. Wake me then.” Andrea put her pillow over her head.

“What about breakfast?” Morgan knew that she, for one, was hungry. No way was she going to skip breakfast.

“Not hungry,” Andrea mumbled from under the pillow. “Need sleep.”

But Morgan was awake now, and going back to sleep would result in her sleeping late. She got up out of bed and decided to take a shower. Considering what they were moving into, this might be her last all-over wash for a while. Besides they were paying for the room, so why not use the facilities?

But she had nothing to change into. All the clothes in the bag were too small for her large frame. She would have no choice but to get back into the soiled clothes she had slept in. Before the day was over, she was going to have to arrange some supplies of her own. To protect her cast from the water, she commandeered the plastic shopping bag that had held Andrea’s borrowed shoes and used one of her hair bands to secure the plastic around her arm. Morgan looked in the bathroom mirror at the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen. Standing there looking back at her was a disheveled cop with a plastic shopping bag wrapped around one arm. She looked anything but dangerous. She was thankful she was the only one viewing herself in this condition. She stripped down to her birthday suit and turned on the taps. As the room started to fill up with steam, she slipped on the complimentary shower cap and stepped into the spray. For a moment or two, she just stood there, letting the heat from the water sink into her body, easing the accumulated aches and pains of the last few days. She sighed deeply. It felt so good that she didn’t want to move, but there was her body to wash and a sleepy lawyer to wake. She was finding it was hard to wash herself with one hand as it tended to leave certain areas unattended because they were out of reach. So she lathered up what she could and hoped that the suds found those annoying nooks and crannies that were left unwashed. She heard the bathroom door and turned around. Andrea staggered in and sat herself down on the toilet. Morgan turned back to face the wall, trying to give her privacy to do her business. “Why didn’t you knock?” she asked, but there was no answer. “Hello?”

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The sink tap went on, so she looked. Andrea washed her hands, wiped them, and staggered out, as though she were doing it in her sleep. Morgan chuckled and continued to wash, debating whether she should try to wash her hair.

She must have lost track of time, because the shower door opened and in stepped Andrea. A very naked Andrea. Morgan stared then quickly turned away. Oh, my God.

“Er… I’ll be finished in a minute.” She faced the shower head, presenting her ass to Andrea’s eyes.

“No hurry.” Andrea sounded nearly perky, at odds with the fact that she had practically sleepwalked to the bathroom only minutes before.

“Can I do something for you?” She felt decidedly underdressed as Andrea leaned against the back wall of the shower receptacle to watch her.

“No. Just enjoying the view.” Morgan could hear the merriment in Andrea’s voice.

“Do you find something amusing?” She looked over her shoulder at her own butt, wondering if something nasty was growing out of it.

“Not at all.”

“Why are you here?”

“Well, I decided I should take a shower. You never know when the next one will be.”

“And you couldn’t wait until I was finished?” Morgan finally plucked up the courage and turned around to face her.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Andrea held up her hand. “I came in to give you a hand with washing your hair.”

“Naked?”

“That’s the usual idea in a shower. You doubt my sincerity?”

Andrea asked mischievously.

“What about your shoulder?” Morgan suddenly remembered the dressing.

“I found a waterproof patch in the supplies the doctor gave me. And you didn’t notice it? My, my. How unobservant of you, Sergeant.”

Morgan wasn’t going to argue. They both knew she had been busy looking at other things. “Okay, if you say so.”

Morgan took her shower cap off and pulled the band out of her hair that held her braid secure. She ducked her head under the shower stream, allowing the warm water to massage her scalp. She braced her good hand on the wall in front of her and shifted her 257

weight forward to lean into the spray. “Oh, God. That water does feel good.”

“I’m sure it does.”

The timbre in Andrea’s voice made Morgan look at her. “Is this a good idea?” She could feel the panic surge as she turned to face Andrea. Morgan was at her most vulnerable now but, then again, so was Andrea. Here was the moment she both dreaded and prayed for, and she fought hard to tip the scales toward yes.

“Probably not, but maybe we should seize the moment.”

“Can’t it wait? Breakfast will be here soon, and—”

Andrea moved quickly and kissed Morgan under the shower of water, effectively cutting off any response she might come up with. Morgan pulled away. “Whoa. What’s the hurry?” She could feel the panic fighting hard to stay with her.

“Don’t you see? This might be the only chance.”

“No. I won’t let that happen, so don’t even go there.” But the internal battle was a lost cause after that one kiss. Morgan’s blood was pounding now, and her hand moved swiftly around Andrea’s neck and drew her in. Their lips met and their hunger grew as they tried to discover each other at an almost frenetic pace. Time was short and so much needed to be imparted in a kiss, in a sigh, in the touch of a finger, or in the brush of skin. Every touch drew a response that begged for an answer.

Morgan pulled back. “Are you sure this is what you want? You’ve never—”

“Shh,” Andrea whispered, her finger resting on Morgan’s lips.

“I’m sure. In fact I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I feel this is right. I know this is right.”

Morgan had wanted Andrea’s first time to be slow and sweet, but circumstances were against them. Their emotions were in high gear and in need of instant gratification. So she denied them both nothing. Her lips touched Andrea’s, seeking a response as eager as her own. This moment had been coming since they’d met, and now that it was here, Morgan’s senses were so overwhelmed she didn’t even take a second to realize the enormity of what they were doing, let alone the consequences. Andrea was here in front of her ready to share whatever would come for both of them. Morgan moved forward, forcing Andrea to take a step back, so that they were out of the spray of water. Her arms encircled the small waist, and her good hand slid up Andrea’s moist back. She could feel the warm skin under her fingertips, and it was heaven. It

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had been so long since she’d made love to anyone, and even longer since it had been with someone she actually cared about. Andrea pulled her lips away from Morgan’s and breathed into her ear. “Aren’t we working to a timetable here?”

“In a hurry?” Morgan joked.

“I wish we weren’t.” When Morgan’s lips nipped at her neck, Andrea’s breathing faltered. “God, I wish we had all day.”

“How far do you want this to go?” Morgan prayed she would say all the way, but she would do whatever Andrea wanted.

“Take me to the moon, Mo.” Andrea’s hands slid over Morgan’s back.

Morgan allowed her emotions to fly free, adding another dimension to her lovemaking. She expressed her joy and her love for Andrea in so many ways, with the gentle touch of a hand, a caress of a cheek, and the loving stroke of a finger. Her lips trailed a moist path down to the pulse point at the base of her neck, remaining there as Andrea came to completion under her loving attention. Their lovemaking was so beautiful, it took away the denial for Andrea that Morgan had been valiantly trying to uphold. Why had she been fighting this? Wasn’t she entitled to her own happiness? One day, if she ever met her therapist again, she would have to tell him that love was the cure. At this moment everything was clear, and hang the consequences. She’d worry about complications later.

Morgan held Andrea close until her breathing settled. “Now I think you owe me a hair wash.”

Andrea took her time, indulging Morgan’s soft moans with a gentle scalp massage. The job was long and complicated, but neither woman seemed to mind the extra effort it took to wash the mass of russet hair.

Andrea also washed the spots that Morgan was unable to reach earlier, and Morgan returned the favor by washing Andrea so she wouldn’t have to stretch her wound. By the time they had finished their fastidious cleaning of one another, over an hour had elapsed. They were barely dressed when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Morgan called.

“Room service,” a muffled voice said.

“One moment.” Morgan pulled her gun out of the bedside table, placed it behind her back, and opened the door. She carefully watched the waiter walk in with their tray and place it on the coffee table. He looked around expectantly for his tip, and Andrea obliged him with a handful of Morgan’s coins from the bedside table. He 259

looked slightly disgusted at the small offering and left without a word.

“He could have said ‘have a nice day,’” Andrea grumbled.

“After what you gave him, you were lucky he didn’t stone you to death with it.”

“Morgan, I don’t have any money with me, remember? That was all there was. Speaking of which, where’s my pocketbook?”

“Velasquez probably has it. I’ll give her a call and ask her to bring it.”

“I feel a bit naked without it.” When Morgan smiled, Andrea said, “Oh, stop it. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” It would be like her walking around without her revolver, something she never went anywhere without. Excluding the bathroom, of course. But when she stepped outside her apartment door, she was a cop first and foremost and she had to be prepared for any emergency. The weapon was a part of who she was, as much as the badge in her wallet was. She seated the gun in the holster she had attached to her jeans’ belt. Then she called Velasquez about Andrea’s pocketbook. “Now eat up.”

They had a leisurely breakfast while they waited for Velasquez’s arrival, chatting about hopes and dreams, family woes, and future plans. When they had finished their second cup of coffee, there was a knock at the door. Morgan motioned for Andrea to move out of sight while she reached for her weapon and approached the door. “Yes?” she asked.

“It’s me. Yelena.”

Morgan had to juggle her weapon in order to open the door, but she quickly switched her weapon to her good hand once the door was ajar. There stood Velasquez, unfazed by the aggressive stance of her superior. “Scary,” she muttered.

“Yeah, well. Can’t be too careful.”

“I can see that, Sergeant. I checked with the boys downstairs. It was a quiet night and by the looks of it here, you had no problems either.”

“Nope, we were safely tucked away.”

“Are you ready to go?” Velasquez stepped into the hotel room and handed Andrea her pocketbook.

“Sure,” Andrea said. “Just need to throw a few things back into the bag.” She collected the T-shirt she slept in and the paper sack full of medication and put them in the bag.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Velasquez reached for the handle before Andrea could lift it. “Mind you, this is only while

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you’re recuperating. After that, you’re on your own.” Velasquez added a smile as she said the words.

“I think we’re going to need some clothes, Yelena. I had a shower this morning and had to climb back into these.” Morgan looked down at her disheveled clothes.

“Do you want me to stop by your place?”

Morgan considered the possibility that her place might be staked out by whoever wanted Andrea dead. Was it worth the risk?

“Is there a back way into your apartment?” Velasquez asked. Was she psychic? “Only the fire escape outside the building. Look, go in the front entrance and have a couple of boys stake out the area to see if anyone responds.” Morgan reached into her pocket for her key ring and took off her apartment key. “There’s a duffel bag in the closet.”

“What about the counselor?”

“Yeah, what about the counselor?” Andrea echoed. “You get all the good clothes, and I get hand-me-downs.”

“You had hand-me-downs last night, and I had nothing, so don’t whine.”

“I can swing by there, too, if you want,” Velasquez said. “You already gave me the key.”

Morgan could see that Andrea wanted something that was hers that would make her feel normal again. There were so many foreign things around them, a favorite pair of worn out jeans would balance the scales in her mind. She could understand that. “Sure. Do you have pen and paper?”

Velasquez drew out her notepad and pen and handed it over. Morgan jotted down her address and gave the pen and paper to Andrea to do the same. When Andrea had finished, she handed back the notepad.

“Now let’s go and meet Mr. Chang,” Morgan said.

* * *

“Thanks for helping us out, Mr. Chang.”

“Please, call me Arnold.”

Morgan knew that Henry’s dad was Hiew Xiang, but years ago, someone had dubbed him Arnold, after the TV series Happy Days. He didn’t cook burgers, but he did have a passing resemblance to actor Pat Morita.

“Thanks,” Morgan said. “I see where Henry gets his good manners.”

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“My son thinks very highly of you, Detective.”

“Morgan, please. And your son is a fine detective. He’s a credit to the police force and to his family. I’m honored to call him my friend.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Arnold said with obvious pride. “I wanted him to join the family business, but he had other ideas.”

“Well, thank goodness for the city that he became a police officer. He’s very good at it.”

He beamed. “Let’s look at your accommodations.”

They went down a side alley running the length of the Chang family factory. A small doorway near the road was padlocked and showed no sign of recent use. Arnold continued down the alley toward the back of the building and passed a large metal rollup door, obviously for trucks or forklifts. He stopped at the alley’s far end and opened the last door. An eerie creak reverberated through the silent building.

Once inside, Mr. Chang walked a few paces to a power box and flicked a couple of switches.

“We’ve been closed for renovations,” he said, “but no work’s been done for the last few days because of a dispute with our contractors. We do still have power, so you don’t need to worry on that accord.”

He held out his palm in invitation, and they walked across the width of the factory floor to the office. A set of wooden stairs led up to what Morgan surmised was the room above the office that Henry had mentioned.

“Your room is up the stairs,” Arnold said, confirming her guess. “The room below is the office.” He stopped to unlock it.

“There’s a phone inside if you need to make a call.”

“Thanks.” Morgan smiled at him.

The climb up the stairs had her wondering how long in fact they would be here. Morgan looked over the factory floor from the top step. Large printed cardboard boxes lined the walls, while the factory equipment occupied the middle of the large floor. Located in the far corner at the front of the building was the construction area in dispute.

“We’re trying to get a new office built over there.” Mr. Chang indicated the wooden framework occupying the opposite corner of the building. “Along with a bedroom and a bigger bathroom on the second floor, so we can make use of the door that opens onto the street. This area will be pulled down and new equipment installed. We’re planning to expand into yum cha.”

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“Mmm,” Andrea said. “Sounds yummy. Do you sell to the public?”

“No, only to restaurants, hotels, and the like.”

“If they were available I’d sure buy some.”

“Really?” Mr. Chang thought for a moment.

“Sure. If you could get it past council, maybe the front office could become a shop front. You know, sell direct to the public.”

“Interesting idea, but before you suggest that, maybe you should try them. I’ll bring you some for dinner,” he said cheerfully.

“Please, don’t go to any special trouble. We’ll be fine.”

Morgan glanced at Andrea, hoping to convey silently not to go making extra demands on the man. They were lucky he had agreed so readily to his son’s hurried arrangements.

“No trouble for my son’s best friend.” He smiled at Morgan. It was a smile that was more than friendly. It seemed to be a smile imparted to someone considered special in his family.

“I hope we won’t be causing any problems with the work,”

Morgan said.

“This won’t be fixed for a few days yet. I’ll talk to my son.”

Morgan felt guilty for causing problems. She would have to have a word with Henry about finding somewhere else if the case dragged out much longer.

“Here you go.” Arnold waved his arm around the room. The room was better than she had expected. While there was one regular bed and one camp bed, the other facilities were fine. Arnold moved to the tiny fridge and opened it for her inspection.

“There’s enough food here for you for the next couple of days.”

Morgan noted fresh milk, bread, eggs, and soft drinks sitting invitingly on the shelf. “This is great. Thanks. You’ve been more than kind.”

“And thank you, Morgan, for looking after my son. He cares very much for you.”

Morgan could feel the beginnings of a blush and shuffled on the spot in an effort to hide it.

“I’ll deliver dinner to you tonight,” Arnold said. “The food here will get you through the day, but I’m sure you’ll like a nice hot meal, too.”

“You bet. But please announce yourself so I don’t get twitchy.”

“I will.” Arnold handed over a set of keys. “In case of an emergency. If you have to leave you can get back in. The other keys will give you access to anywhere in the building.”

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Morgan took the keys, appreciating his trust. “Thank you. I hope we don’t need them.”

“Like I said, just in case.” He paused. “Henry trusts you with his life, Morgan. I can trust you with my business. It would upset me greatly if your safety was in danger because you didn’t have the keys.”

“Thanks for that. I’ll do my utmost to honor it.”

He nodded, almost formal. “Make yourselves comfortable. See you tonight.”

“Tonight.”

He turned and left, and Morgan thought about how nice Henry’s family was. Now she could see quite clearly how Henry had been molded into the astonishing friend he was to her. She turned and looked at their room, already deciding the sleeping arrangements. “You take the bed, and I’ll have the cot.” She was half-expecting Andrea to argue because she had made a decision on behalf of them both.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Morgan resigned herself to the fact that Andrea was going to take some time for her to figure out. “No problem.” Morgan looked out the window at the factory. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to check out the factory. You want to come?”

“I thought we were staying put.”

“We are. But it’s a big building. I want to stretch my legs and check out the layout.” Just in case. Morgan hoped she would never have to use the information, but it was stupid not to at least have a look.

“Sure.”

They walked down the stairs, and Morgan took Andrea’s hand as they walked around the inside perimeter of the building, delighting in how nice it was to stroll around with her, even if it was just in an empty warehouse.

Strangely calm and content, Morgan investigated every nook and cranny of the machine-laden building, searching out possible escape routes and areas that would need watching. As Andrea moved closer to her, Morgan let go of Andrea’s hand and draped her arm around her shoulders. In response, Andrea looked up at her and Morgan felt her arm slide around her waist. In spite of where they were, and the uncertainty about the danger to Andrea, Morgan knew she didn’t want to be anywhere but here.

Chapter 21

Except for Velasquez’s visit to deliver fresh clothing and some reading material, the afternoon passed uneventfully. Morgan did venture out of the building a couple of times to check things out and touch base with the unmarked car outside, but everything was quiet. It seemed that no one knew they were here. Andrea found a pack of cards and beat Morgan at poker several times and at last count Morgan owed her nearly twelve thousand dollars. “Good thing I have lots of monopoly money at home,”

Morgan said, looking up from her cards.

“Maybe I don’t want money,” Andrea responded with a soft purr.

Morgan blushed and looked back at her cards while Andrea laughed.

As promised, Arnold arrived with a Chinese banquet and his yum cha, leaving them with more than enough food to feed them three times over. However, Morgan did find out a tidbit of information about Henry and his family that had otherwise eluded her. It seemed his family owned one of the more affluent restaurants in Chinatown. He was worth a fortune. She was going to have to have a word with him, when this was all over, about secrets. Then again, she wasn’t one to talk. She’d had secrets of her own. The night held little excitement for them. Besides another security check, the programming on TV was abysmal, unless one was into reality shows. Morgan felt she had enough reality in her own life without trying to gratuitously live someone else’s. Instead, she picked up a book to read.

She watched Andrea over the top of her book as she made coffee. Suddenly there was a gentle sound that caught her attention and set her senses on alert. What was that? Was it a noise from somewhere below? In the silence of the large building, the squeak sounded enormous. Had someone opened the back door?

“What’s up?” Andrea asked.

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Morgan placed a finger to her lips and reached for her gun.

“Heard something,” she said in a whisper.

“Where are you going?”

“To check it out, of course. I want you to take cover downstairs in the office. You’re cornered up here if someone comes up the stairs. You’ve a better chance to escape down there without breaking something.”

“Don’t do something stupid like getting yourself killed.”

Morgan kissed her fingertip and touched it to Andrea’s cheek.

“Come on.”

She moved carefully down the stairs, feeling her way in the dark. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she felt behind her for Andrea and pushed her in the direction of the office. Morgan prowled around the factory floor like a large cat, checking all the areas she had marked earlier as possible hiding spots. Nothing seemed out of place in the semidarkness, perhaps save a friendly mouse or two scurrying around for cover.

Morgan let out her breath, glad that it was a false alarm. She was just about back to their room when she heard the noise again, this time a slight shuffle and squeak, like leather on a smooth cement floor. Her first thought went to the immediate danger of their attacker, but she thought they had covered their tracks to eliminate that possibility. Could it be Morelli? The asshole had been in a real strange mood lately, and this would be his style. If he was playing games with her, she was going to kick his ass all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge. But if it was Morelli, how did he find out where she was holed up, especially when he disappeared from sight after the confrontation at the precinct? She was going to have to have a word with Lowenstein and Fredericks when this was all over. But whoever it was, she wanted Henry here. As her dad always said, it was better to be safe than sorry. She had to holster her weapon to use her cell. Damn the broken wrist. She punched in speed dial one.

“Henry? Hey, it’s me. Yes, we’re fine but my hair is standing up on end. Can you come down now? I need you to watch my back, buddy.”

“What about the two plainclothes guys stationed outside?”

“Can you contact them? But I’d feel a lot safer with you here, too, partner.” Morgan knew she was being paranoid, but Henry’s presence was her security blanket.

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

Just as she hung up the phone somebody switched on all the lights. She was temporarily blinded “That’s it. When I find you, I’m

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going to kick your butt.” Her good hand shaded her eyes. The blinding white faded, and she could make out the room. As she reached for her weapon, a large hulking giant appeared right in front of her. “Who the hell are you?” she instinctively asked. Before she had her weapon out, he punched her just below her ribcage. She reeled back, and pain lanced through her. She doubled over and tried to catch her breath. Morgan finally got her gun out of her holster. Before she could bring it to bear, he grabbed her body like she was a toy doll. He threw her against the outside office wall. He moved quickly for a man who looked like he weighed more than a compact car. He was almost on top of her when she tried to take aim. He kicked the gun from her hand. It skittered across the floor and underneath one of the large pieces of machinery. His hand came around her throat. He lifted her up and smashed her against the wall. His other hand grabbed her broken wrist and slammed it against the wooden partition. She screamed in agony. The pain was immense, and her wrist throbbed uncontrollably. Forcing her mind to clear, she glared at him.

He grinned and his one gold tooth glinted in the light. “You’re going to kick my butt, huh? I don’t think so.”

Oh, shit.

His grip on her throat tightened. He punched her in the jaw with his free hand. Morgan struggled to maintain consciousness. He punched her again and again. She could feel warm blood trickling down her chin as he continued to hit her.

“Now, where’s the other one?” he growled, letting up on the assault to get an answer.

“In China.”

That earned her another punch in the gut. This time the pain was different, like a red hot poker had been dragged over her skin. She was fearful that he had damaged something. She hoped it wasn’t permanent. That was, of course, if she survived.

“Where is she?”

“Go to hell,” Morgan mumbled through her swollen lip. He punched her again then let go of her. She slumped to the floor. Her cheek rested on something wet, probably drops of her own blood.

“Whatever,” he said.

Morgan floated in a state of semiconsciousness. She concentrated hard on the hulking giant as he turned and walked away from her. He was heading toward the stairs that led to the upstairs room. Her mind seemed to be playing tricks on her, as she 267

focused on the way he walked. He didn’t walk but waddled, his immense weight shaking the timbers as if he were shifting city blocks in his passing.

“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he called mockingly. Morgan had never felt such pain as she did now. She couldn’t tell whether anything was broken, but it sure felt like it.

“C’mon, sweetheart. If you come out, I’ll make it quick. You fuck around, and you’ll be begging me to finish it,” he called from the stairs.

Morgan struggled to stay conscious. Get up… you can’t let him win… you can’t let her down again. With great effort, she hauled herself to her feet. Once or twice she stopped to gain her equilibrium and stop the nausea. She could hear him systematically pulling the room upstairs apart to find Andrea. She didn’t have much time. Where the hell were those detectives from the unmarked car outside? But she couldn’t wait for them. Her foot brushed something on the floor. A length of metal pipe. She reached down, picked it up, and gripped it tightly in her blood-slicked hand. She took some courage from her newlyacquired weapon. Its surface felt cold and smooth in her palm. Morgan waited until her attacker emerged and was on his way down the stairs. “Get down here, you piece of shit.” Her voice broke on the words, but she was determined to give her all.

“You still alive? Got some spunk, you do.” He laughed at her feeble threat. “You going to hurt me with that toothpick?” The wooden stairs creaked ominously. He came down the last few steps and stood opposite her on the factory floor.

“I hope. Or maybe I’ll get lucky and kill you with it.”

He grinned and called over his shoulder. “Don’t be going anywhere, sweet cheeks. This won’t take long.”

He waddled toward Morgan. She ducked as his meaty fist tried to make contact with her face, easily avoiding him. She swung the pipe and slammed it into his leg. He yelped with pain. He backed away and slowly circled her as he waited for her next move. Morgan jabbed quickly at him to keep him at bay. She looked for an opening that would give her a chance to hit him.

She finally committed to a swing with what strength she had left, but he stopped her. He held her arm still as though she were a child. He closed his other hand over her fingers, squeezed firmly, and forced her to release her weapon. Calmly, he removed the pipe from her numb hand and prepared to use it on her.

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Morgan’s one open eye widened. The pipe swung down in an arc heading for her kneecap. She swiveled and the metal connected with the side of her leg, collapsing the joint and sending her to the floor. She had expected to see her life flash before her eyes, but all Morgan could see was the hulking man standing over her. He had the pipe raised above his head and was ready to deliver the fatal blow.

But he hesitated and looked over to a nearby piece of machinery. A nasty smirk graced his lips as his gaze returned to Morgan. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her the twenty feet to one of the machines used in the factory. With little effort, he lifted her and draped her across the narrow table. He hooked her belt loop on one side of the machine and her long hair around a lever situated on the other side. All her abused muscles were stretched to the limit as she lay face up over the table. With difficulty, she turned her head. A series of lethal-looking, razor-sharp blades barely two feet away were aimed directly at her head. She could barely think, but now wasn’t the time for her instincts to be dulled.

Morgan tried to relax and let her mind regroup. Her thoughts slowly pulled together and allowed her to see the whole picture. She was strung across some sort of cutting machine that would scalp her if she didn’t do something about it. On top of that, the guy who put her there was after Andrea and was going to kill her. All she had to do was get herself free and kill the bastard before he killed Andrea. A piece of cake. Morgan wasn’t sure about that, but she would sure as hell try.

“Goodbye, Detective. You should survive just long enough to hear lover girl breathe her last breath.”

“You’re dead, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Not in this life.” He turned on the machine. It started as a low hum and slowly built in intensity as the machine warmed up. When the engine was at full speed, he flipped a switch that started the blades whirling.

“See ya,” he said and walked away.

Barely above the machine’s whine, Morgan heard him moving around looking for Andrea. She tried to see where her hair was caught and glimpsed a metal lever threaded through the middle of the braid. Frantically, she reached up to untangle the mess. Her fingertips brushed the metal, but she couldn’t unravel her hair. She had no choice but to try with her bad hand. Pain flowed through her 269

as she stretched as far as she was able. She extended her wrist past her tolerance, but to no avail.

Doubling her efforts, she still couldn’t move. Her cargo pants were hooked on the other side of the table, effectively laying her out like a piece of meat to be dissected. Sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes. Vainly, she shook her head to dislodge the moisture.

Like some masochist, Morgan kept looking at the blades, mesmerized by their progress toward her. If she didn’t think of something soon, they were going to at least scalp her, or probably worse. She reached for the button on her pants, fumbling around in panic. Ignoring the pain across her abdomen, she pushed the button through the eyelet, undoing her pants at what seemed a ridiculously slow pace.

She felt a breeze generated by the machine’s blades on her skin. Another surge of adrenaline shot through her. She used both her hands to shimmy as far as she could out of her pants. The move gave her perhaps six inches to reach her hair. Try as she might, she couldn’t untangle it.

There was no time. Her pants were caught on one side by something she couldn’t see. The lever on the other side of the table had her hair firmly caught, and she had no leverage to move herself out of the way. At most she could move a few inches. If she had more time, she could eventually get herself out of her dilemma. But time was one commodity she no longer had.

The blades were barely an inch from her face. She was left with only one option. She grabbed the lever and shifted it toward the table. The blades touched the first wisps of hair standing out from her head. She pulled herself toward her pants, drawing her braid taut while she hung on tight.

A lone tear trickled from her one open eye as she felt the first blade cut through her hair. A substantial part of her breathed a sigh of relief as the blades passed safely over her head, but a small kernel within her mourned her loss.

Far off cries spurred her into action. She forgot all her pain. She unhooked and refastened her pants and slid off the machine that had nearly been her executioner. As she searched around for a weapon, her gaze found something tucked away under the staircase that made her smile grimly. Oh, yes. That would do nicely. Even with one eye swollen shut, Morgan could see that Andrea was in trouble. The thug had found her. He had his hand around Andrea’s neck.

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“Why are you doing this to me? I don’t even know you,”

Andrea was saying.

“Hell, I would have done this for nothing.” From the tone of his voice, Morgan realized he enjoyed inflicting pain as much as the money he earned doing so.

Morgan struggled to stand upright, her blurred vision finally finding them outside the door to the office. Andrea was struggling to breathe. She vainly clawed at the massive hand cutting off her windpipe. She tried to fight him off, but her weak kicks only seemed to amuse him. Morgan was already in motion as her movements began to slow.

“Hey,” Morgan called.

The hulking giant dropped Andrea to the floor and turned his attention to Morgan. “Why don’t you just die, you bitch.”

“Morgan.” Morgan barely heard her name whispered, but to her it meant everything.

“You first,” Morgan said. Her voice cracked from her abused throat. The steady hiss of her weapon gave her courage to move. She lowered her head and used her good shoulder to ram him, grunting as her body hit his. Her momentum sent him backward to slam against the office wall. It shook violently from the impact. Before he could regain his balance, Morgan shot him with the nail gun she had found. He grunted as the first nail entered his flesh and pinned his right hand to the wall. Morgan lurched backward, out of his reach.

“You bitch.” His strangled cry was almost a scream. She let him flail around for a moment as he tried to grab her. She had to time her lunge right. She grabbed his other hand and nailed that one to the wall as well. The hiss exploded from the gun as the nail shot into flesh and bone. The large man screamed, his voice rising to falsetto with the pain.

She stepped back and looked at her prisoner with some satisfaction. A moan to her right brought her back to reality and to their own tenuous state. Both she and Andrea were in need of medical attention. Soon. She flicked the safety button on the gun and placed it on the floor. “Hey,” she said to Andrea.

“Morgan,” Andrea whispered back.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, now.”

The hoarseness was easily discernible in those few words, and Morgan winced in sympathy. Andrea’s hand came up to her throat, gently pressing into the abused skin. “Ow.”

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“Yeah, you’re going to get a nasty bruise out of this.”

“Speaking of nasty bruises,” Andrea’s hand rose to trace around Morgan’s eye. “Oh, God, honey, you look awful.”

“Tell me about it. The only thing keeping me standing is the adrenaline. Come on, let’s get this over with.” She pulled Andrea to her feet. “You go find the uniforms in the car outside while I talk to this guy. You might not want to watch this.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“Get some information.”

“Oh, no, don’t do this, Morgan. Let the law deal with him.”

“I am the law.” Her voice rose over the hiss of the compressor.

“After what he put us through, I’m not leaving without a name.”

Morgan picked up the nail gun and limped over to her victim.

“This is not who you are, Morgan. Please, don’t torture him.”

“Why not? He was prepared to scalp me.”

“I don’t believe it. I thought I knew you, but it seems I don’t know you at all.” Andrea stared at her, horrified, then turned and walked to the door to find the police. She clearly didn’t want to watch.

Andrea left and Morgan looked at the behemoth pinned to the wall.

“Here’s your chance. Talk to me.” Morgan gripped his shirt and tugged him forward, drawing his hands taut and increasing the pain.

He grimaced. “Fuck you.”

Morgan ran the nail gun slowly down his chest and rested the muzzle at his groin. Pointedly, she poked him with it.

“No, you won’t,” he croaked, but she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Try me.” She flicked the safety off and fired. He screamed.

“Oops,” she whispered inches from his face. She saw the terror residing in his eyes. “Oh, darn. I missed. I’ll have to try again.” She smiled at him, ignoring the pain of her swollen lip. “So who hired you, Chuckles?”

“I don’t know,” he gasped.

“Wrong answer, scumbag. How about some body piercing? What about a stud for your ear?”

She raised the gun. “Or, you know, some say that when Jesus was crucified, they nailed him through the wrists, not the hands. Well, hell. We could try that one out.”

“No. Please,” he said.

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“Are you begging?” Morgan grabbed his shirt and pulled. “You showed us no mercy, you sorry piece of crap.” She lowered her voice to a growl. “Don’t expect any from me.” She released his shirt and placed the gun’s muzzle on his right wrist.

“I don’t know!” he screamed. “I don’t!”

“Okay, so how were you contacted?”

“By phone and then she met me.”

“What did she look like?”

“Medium height, five-six or -seven maybe, dark hair, Southern accent.”

Southern accent? “How were you paid?”

When he hesitated, she fired the gun into the wall next to his head. He yelped and shut his eyes. “Let’s try again. How were you paid?”

“Cash. It’s in my pocket.” His massive head nodded down toward his pants. She hesitated when she saw the wet patch on the crotch of his trousers.

She took a handkerchief out of her pocket, reached into his, and removed an envelope. Carefully, she wrapped it in the cloth and put it in her pants, hoping against hope that forensics could find something.

“It’s all over. You can come out now,” Morgan called, but there was silence.

Several seconds passed before she heard the sound of a door opening and Andrea came into view. Disappointment was written in every concerned line on her face. “How could you?”

“I didn’t do anything. He just peed his pants, that’s all.”

“Nothing?”

“Nah. It was all to scare him. I got the information, didn’t I?”

Despite her injuries, Morgan was rather pleased with herself for getting a confession and, more important, a solid lead to who was behind it all.

“And you didn’t hurt him?”

“No more than what I had already done to him.”

Andrea threw herself into Morgan’s arms.

“Ow!” Morgan grunted.

“I’m sorry.” Andrea backed away, distraught.

“It’s okay. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“It’s over?”

“Not yet, but I have to get to a hospital, and so do you. Henry should be nearly here.”

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“Speaking of police, they weren’t there. There was an empty car across the road, but otherwise the road was deserted.”

“What the hell’s going on? Henry assured me there were officers outside, and now there’s not? Someone’s going to pay.”

“Let’s not worry about it now. We’re alive and we’re safe, that’s all that matters.” Andrea wedged herself under Morgan’s good arm, supporting her as she limped out toward the front door.

“What about him?”

“I doubt he’s going anywhere.”

The cool night air was a welcome relief as they emerged from the building. A dark car was indeed parked across the street, but now there was someone in it. Morgan could just make out a familiar form in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck. Morelli. That prick just sat there while all this happened.” She approached the vehicle. “You shit. Open up, damn you. What the hell are you playing at?”

Morelli opened the window an inch or two. But he just stared at her, a smirk touching his lips.

“Where are the plainclothes guys?”

“Something about an emergency elsewhere I think.”

“You called them off? How? Did you pretend to be Markham or something?”

“Of course not. Hey, I’m suspended, remember? Or did you forget? I certainly didn’t.”

“You bastard. You come to finish the job?”

“Not this time, O’Callaghan.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? The hit-and-run.”

He snorted and gave a short nod. “Nobody makes a fool of me. Nobody.”

“Then you better kick yourself in the ass, you useless piece of shit.” Despite the situation, she felt triumphant. He had admitted it. Twin arcs of light cut through the night. The dual headlights focused on the two women. “Open up,” Morgan yelled. He ignored her and glanced at his rearview mirror. “I think you’d better run, O’Callaghan,” he said emotionlessly. Morelli stared straight at her and smiled.

An engine revved, and the car headed directly for them.

“Move,” Morgan yelled, vainly trying to run with her injured knee.

Andrea stayed close, one arm wrapped around her waist as they tried to cover the distance to the far side of the street. Hesitating, Morgan thought they were safe. The narrow walkway was blocked

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by a brick wall on one side and street lights on the other. But she was wrong. “Go! Go!” The dark sedan jumped the sidewalk, moving expertly between the two barriers and shortening the distance between it and its victims.

Morgan’s leg finally gave out and sent them both sprawling to the ground. Unable to help herself, Morgan looked back. She watched with some sort of perverse fascination as the vehicle approached.

“I’m sorry, Andrea.” She closed her good eye and waited for the impact. Morgan heard another car approach, and she opened her eye. The new arrival slammed into the side door of the car trying to run them down, sending the vehicle into the brick wall. Metal buckled and tore under the impact and pieces flew in all directions. Morgan sprawled herself over Andrea to protect her. A large piece of metal hit her and knocked the wind out of her. Silence engulfed her. Morgan tried to move. It hurt. “You okay?” Even speaking hurt.

“Yeah,” Andrea said softly. “What about you?”

“Depends on what you call okay.” Morgan didn’t want to talk anymore. She was content to just lie on top of Andrea and concentrate on breathing.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze to view the newcomer. “You took your own sweet time.”

“Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?” Henry said but his tone told Morgan he was obviously relieved.

“Yeah, you are. Thank God.”

“You look awful.” Sometimes Henry stated the obvious.

“No shit.”

The wail stopped and another vehicle pulled up. “The ambulance is here.”

“Make it two.”

“Huh?”

“We’ll need two ambulances, one for us and the other for the guy in the factory. You can’t miss him. He’s nailed to the office wall.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“Just fighting for my life, buddy. Tell the paramedics to bring a pair of pliers. They’re going to need them.” She looked down the street. “Where the hell did he go?”

Henry looked around. “Who?”

“That bastard Morelli. He was here, and he did nothing. You were right, Henry. He confessed to the hit-and-run.” She was 275

exhausted. Blood dripped from her injuries and ended up on the sidewalk. The bleeding went relatively unnoticed as pain, anger, and adrenaline flooded through Morgan’s tired body.

“I’ll get an APB out for him,” Henry said. “Don’t you worry, we’ll find him. Do you need a hand?”

Morgan held up the broken cast. “I could have used that hand earlier.”

“You must be all right. You’re still making jokes. But seriously, is there anything you need?”

At this point, Morgan cared little about anything except relief from the pain and some rest. “Find me somewhere nice and quiet to sleep for a year or two. Help me up, will you?”

“Shouldn’t you stay put while the paramedics work on you?”

“I have to see who the driver was.”

“I can do that for you.”

“No, Henry, I have to do this,” Morgan said firmly.

“You are the most stubborn—” Henry muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been told that more than once.” She extended her good hand, and he helped her to stand. Getting to her feet took more effort than she thought possible, even with Henry’s help. The driver of the other car hadn’t moved, effectively imprisoned in a cage of mangled steel. Morgan suspected who was in the car, but she had to see for herself. She shuffled the few feet to the folded hood of the car. Through a shattered window she saw her attacker and smiled.

“Chelsea Vaughan?” Andrea had allowed Henry to support her as she made her way to the car.

“Yep.”

Morgan’s body couldn’t stand it any longer. Every ache and pain screamed at her in indignation. “I don’t think I’m going to make it,” she tried to say, mumbling the last words as blackness engulfed her.

Chapter 22

Morgan opened her eyes. She tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. She stopped trying and listened instead. Sounds started to filter through, slowly forming into intelligible words.

“How’s the other woman that was brought in?”

“She was discharged this morning. Something about going home for a while.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, back to Charleston. Back to her family.”

Andrea was gone? Those few words drove painfully through her heart like a stake. She left me? Morgan knew she wasn’t dead because she wouldn’t feel as devastated as she did right now.

“Uh…” Morgan attempted to talk and move.

“Hang on there, young lady. Don’t move.”

“What—” She tried to focus on one of the two nurses.

“Don’t worry,” one said. “We’ve just given you something to sleep, that’s all.”

“How long?” Why was it so hard to move? It was like she was tied to the bed.

“You’ve been sedated since yesterday.”

Twenty-four hours?

“To give your body time to heal. You’ve taken a severe beating.”

Before Morgan could ask another question, she fell asleep again.

“Hey there, partner.”

It seemed like she had fallen asleep only a moment ago. She opened her good eye and regarded Henry standing there with a bunch of flowers in his hand.

“Hi,” she rasped.

“And a lovely shade you are, too.”

“You sure know… how to make me feel better.”

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“You sound okay, considering. They’ve eased up on the sedatives.”

“Thank God,” she said, feeling groggy.

“I don’t know. If I looked like you do now, I’d be asking for more.”

“If you’ve got nothing good to say, there’s the door.”

“So, what have you been up to?”

“Up to? God, Henry, I’m just not up to joking, all right?”

“Sorry.”

“Hell. Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. “You know you can say anything. I’m just a little out of it, as you can see.”

“Something bothering you besides the obvious?”

“Nothing.” She thought about Andrea, and it made her ache in ways no sedative could help.

“No, there’s something upsetting you. Tell me and let’s see if Uncle Henry can make it right.”

“You can’t make it right, Henry. It’s all gone.”

“Maybe I better wait until those drugs have worn off completely, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“And how’s Andrea?”

“Andy?” Henry hesitated as she switched the conversation.

“She’s fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“She was discharged this morning.”

“And why hasn’t she come to see me?”

“She did.”

“I haven’t seen her.”

“Well, that was probably hard, because you were out like a light.”

“So where is she now?”

“She’s gone home.”

“Home? Damn it, Henry, answer me straight. Where is she?”

“She’s back in Charleston, of course.”

“Of course?” Morgan could feel herself slipping into a quiet depression.

“She told you. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I don’t remember! Oh, God. She left me.” The sting from her split lip cut through her sadness.

“Uh, no. She hasn’t.” Henry seemed amused.

“She’s in Charleston and I’m here. What does it look like to you?”

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“It looks like she’s visiting her parents while you recover. But then again, that’s only her opinion and mine.”

“And how do you know that?” Morgan grumbled.

“Because she told me so, you dummy. She’s due back in another week, so just relax.”

Morgan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but settled for something in between.

“Are you going to give me the good news?” she asked.

“These drugs are muddling your brain. What good news?”

“It’s not the drugs, Henry. It’s probably all the pounding from the guy’s fist to my head that’s responsible. What happened to me?”

“Well, let’s see. You and Andy went on a holiday together to Chang’s Noodle Factory.”

She scowled at him, a warning that she just wanted the facts.

“Okay.” He relented. “I’m assuming you’re talking about your injuries, so here goes. Let’s see… black eyes, split lip, multiple contusions on the face and body, cracked cheekbone, torn abdominal muscle, and damaged ligaments in your knee.”

“Anything else?” She sincerely hoped not, because that list was more than enough. No wonder she felt so awful. “How bad is my knee?” Morgan held her breath for his reply, praying that the injury was not going to give her a permanent limp.

“Well, the doctor seems confident it’s temporary. It’ll take a while to heal, but it looks like you were lucky. How did that happen?”

“Got smacked with a lead pipe by my buddy at the warehouse.”

“Then you were very lucky.”

Lucky. Somehow, the definition was subjective. While Henry thought it luck, she thought it was anything but. Perhaps if he were in her position, he’d change his mind.

She glanced around the room. A vase of flowers sat on a small table opposite her bed. “Who sent those?”

Henry moved over to the arrangement and extracted the card perched in the petals. “Wow. What did you do to deserve this? They’re from Vaughan.”

Morgan didn’t quite know what to make of her relationship with Arthur Vaughan. She liked him, but his concern for her welfare was strange since they had only talked… what? Twice? Three times? Maybe he was looking for something more, for someone to talk to, for someone to be the daughter he never really had. Nah. Still, he had no need to send the flowers.

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“I have no idea. We didn’t do him any favors by arresting his daughter. Speaking of which, what’s happening with the case?”

“You really want to talk about that?”

“What else am I going to think about in here? The weather? Politics? Who’s going to win this year’s American Idol? Give me a break here.”

“We searched Lauren Stapleton’s apartment.”

“Find anything interesting?”

“We thought it was a bust until I found a shoe box tucked away on the top shelf of her closet. The nice pair of shoes in it had been hastily cleaned. Forensics got back to me today, and Rose’s blood was embedded in the leather uppers of the shoes. According to them, the pattern was consistent with a spray pattern from standing directly in front of a gunshot wound and it could only have gotten there if she had been present at the moment of Rose’s death. She was there, Morgan, and it’s enough to indict her.”

“Has Andrea seen any of this stuff?”

“Yeah, before she left. She had a chance to study the evidence and made a call or two to Charleston to request some files. The files are being sent express and should arrive first thing tomorrow.”

Carefully, Morgan released a pent-up sigh, finally glad that the case was coming to a close. “When are you seeing Chelsea?”

“Tomorrow morning, ten a.m.”

“I have to be there.”

“Are you nuts? Look at you. You can barely move.”

“It’s my case. I have to finish it,” Morgan said stubbornly.

“But—”

“Henry, I have to be there. Can’t you understand that?”

“Yeah.” He sighed deeply. “Yeah, I can.”

“Do whatever it takes to get me out of here. After the interrogation, I’ll go home and be a good girl.” They both knew she had never been, in the loosest of terms, a “good girl.”

“The doctor’s going to flip his stethoscope.”

“Probably, but I want to be the one to take her down.”

“This is not about ego.”

“She put a contract out on Andrea, and look what happened to me. This is personal.”

“Personal isn’t a good position to go into this interview with.”

Logic wasn’t going to help him convince Morgan otherwise.

“I know, I know. Please, Henry, for me.”

“Damn it, Red.” He sounded frustrated but gave the right answer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

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* * *

Morgan thought she had known every pain there was, but this was one that sat above them all. With each movement of her body, red starbursts illuminated the darkness behind her eyelids. She had wanted to walk into the station house on crutches, but she still had that damned broken wrist to contend with. Reluctantly she agreed to use a wheelchair.

Henry waited patiently as Morgan slowly maneuvered herself into the waiting chair in the precinct parking garage. She muttered and growled as she tried to make herself comfortable in the unpadded seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I hate these things.”

“No kidding?” he said brightly.

“Don’t start, all right?”

“Have you had your meds?”

“You sound just like my mother,” Morgan grumbled.

“Someone has to, otherwise you’d be in a mess. So, did you take your meds?”

“Yes, Mr. Nosey Parker.”

“Good.” He closed the car door and steered the wheelchair toward the elevator.

“Don’t you ever get angry?” Morgan knew she had pushed and prodded him incessantly since he had picked her up from the hospital.

“I’m saving them all up for a rainy day.” The elevator arrived, and he was about to push her in. “You want me to—”

“I can do this myself.”

“You are the most stubborn piece of shit I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I love you, too, bro.”

“Is this so important?” Henry asked. “You should be resting.”

“Yes.” She turned the chair around and pulled herself slowly into the elevator. Her sore wrist made it difficult, but she wouldn’t admit that.

“No one will think any less of you if I help.”

“I will.”

“Geez, Morgan.” He grabbed the armrests and pushed the chair swiftly into the elevator.

“What did you do that for?” she looked up angrily.

“It’s raining, so shut up.”

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“Ha-ha, rainy day. I get it.”

The elevator doors opened on their floor, and Henry steered her across the foyer to the corridor.

“Jesus, O’Callaghan, you look like shit.” Lowenstein appeared shocked as he passed her. He headed back toward the squad room, leaving them in the corridor. Morgan swung the wheelchair around and motioned Henry to follow.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked in a worried tone.

“Wait. Take me to Lowenstein’s desk will you?” Henry complied and stood behind her as she addressed Lowenstein and Fredericks.

“If I find out that one of you tipped off Morelli where I was, the law will be the least of your troubles.”

“Why? What did he have to do with this?” Fredericks sounded nervous.

“That prick you call a friend sat outside the building we were in. I got the crap kicked out of me, and the counselor was nearly strangled to death, and he did nothing. That bastard sat in his car and smiled as a car tried to run us down. Not even a phone call to 911.” Her head ached with all the anger, frustration, and pain.

“If I find out he was tipped off from this office, that person”—

she let her gaze shift from one man to another—”or persons are going to get to know me up close and personal.”

“Why are you looking at us? Maybe someone else overheard Chang talking to you.”

Overheard. The word triggered a thought that hadn’t occurred to her before.

“Sergeant, we have an interview to attend,” Henry said.

“I know. I think I’ve made my point here.” Without another word, Morgan allowed Henry to steer the wheelchair back toward the corridor.

“Was that really necessary?” Henry asked.

“Hell, if nothing else they won’t pee without asking permission.” She glanced over her shoulder at the two men, who were talking in hushed tones.

“Henry, I just had a thought. I want you to check something out for me.”

Waiting outside the interrogation room was Markham, surprise written on his face as the wheelchair stopped in front of him.

“And what do you think you’re doing here? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

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“I have to be here,” Morgan said. “It’s my case and I’m going to finish it.”

“Is it worth the pain?” Markham asked.

She moved slowly toward the interview room, Henry pushing her along. “Yes,” she whispered.

When Morgan entered the room, all eyes were on her. The stares of inquiry ranged from concern to outright hostility. She returned their looks and gazed imperiously around the room. Her air of determination and dominance surrounded those present and pinned her enemy in place.

Henry moved the chair to the large table in the center of the room and parked it next to Andrea’s ADA replacement. Morgan stared across the table at Chelsea Vaughan and Mr. Marks, the Vaughan family lawyer. Captain Markham leaned against the wall near the door.

“All right,” Morgan said, “let’s begin. Detective Chang, can you please get the evidence for me? Thank you.” Henry left and she turned her attention to Chelsea Vaughan. “So, Lauren.”

“Sergeant—”

“Mr. Marks, before you start protesting, please indulge me.”

He gave her a slight nod, acquiescing to her request. Henry arrived with a small box filled with papers, a tape recorder, and what looked like a small button. Morgan addressed Chelsea again. “Now, Lauren, let’s get down to business.”

“Chelsea.”

“Sure. But you also go by the name of Lauren Stapleton, and before you deny it, I’ll prove it.”

Morgan set the box on the table and searched through the paperwork. “Your biggest mistake was to react with violence when Counselor Andrea Worthington called out your name that first day you came in to give a statement. She wasn’t sure who you were, you know, and it would have easily been forgotten if you hadn’t decided to kill her.”

“I think you’re mistaken. I was led to believe that it was all to do with Rose’s death,” Chelsea said.

If she was nervous, Morgan couldn’t hear it in her voice.

“That’s the interesting part.” Morgan looked up at Chelsea. “It was a very clever plan, really.”

Chelsea regarded her coolly.

Morgan continued. “That’s why you didn’t kill Ms. Worthington right away. You wanted everyone to think it was motivated by Rose’s death. And you nearly succeeded.”

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Chelsea’s gaze hardened but she remained silent.

“Nearly,” Morgan said again. “See, we caught your first hired thug. He told us that Andrea was the target all along.” A half-truth there. “And that started me thinking.” Morgan so wished she could get up and pace.

“Sergeant, what does this have to do with the Vaughan case?”

Marks was clearly impatient. He obviously wanted to get to the guts of the interview so he could repudiate it.

“Nothing yet. Ms. Vaughan has been charged with the attempted murder of myself and Ms. Worthington.” Nothing was going to spoil her victory, not even the pedantic Mr. Marks. “But since you’ve brought that up, we finally managed to track down where all the money went.”

Morgan watched Chelsea’s face carefully, taking in the slight twitch around her mouth. “It took some doing though. You’re a very thorough woman, Ms. Vaughan.”

Morgan extracted three pieces of paper and spread them out across the table for Chelsea and her lawyer to see. “But we have a very smart IT guy. He found you. If you look at the first sheet, here’s the transfer of those funds from your mother’s account—”

“Stepmother.” Chelsea glared at Morgan.

“Stepmother’s account. The money was transferred to a Cayman Islands account under the name of Cameron Willis.”

Morgan tapped the middle piece of paper. “From there it was transferred to Hamburg, Germany, to Michelle Durant.” Her finger moved to the third piece of paper. “And from there, back to the States to Lauren Stapleton.”

“How does this Lauren Stapleton tie into my client?” Marks said.

“Your client is Lauren Stapleton, Counselor. And Lauren Stapleton has been up to no good.”

“How do you know that, Sergeant?” he asked, with a sneer.

“Because I checked, Mr. Marks. Your client is a very naughty girl. It seems Lauren Stapleton is a drug distributor. A rising name in the industry, so to speak.”

Morgan turned her attention to Chelsea. “So when did you start, Ms. Vaughan? Back before your stint in rehab in England?”

Chelsea shifted in her chair.

Morgan felt a grim pleasure at her discomfort. “I made some phone calls and found out you bought off an orderly to say you were in rehab all that time. In fact, you became Lauren and took a flight back to the States. In a drug deal gone wrong, you were arrested in

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Charleston two years ago. That was where you met Ms. Worthington, wasn’t it? But, of course, you were in disguise, with dark hair and a fake Southern accent.” Morgan tried to point a finger at her, but the movement brought too much pain.

“But you couldn’t go to jail, so you skipped bail and the country. You returned to the rehab center in England and took up the mantle of Chelsea Vaughan, rehabilitated drug user.”

“Can you prove any of this?” Marks asked, his tone demanding.

“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten out of my hospital bed to be here.” Morgan motioned at Henry for a drink of water. She didn’t want her parched throat to give way at the moment of victory. “We were able to find evidence to link you to both the first hired killer and the more recent one who attacked us at the noodle factory.” She took a drink of water with as little movement as possible.

“You paid both off with cash, so it couldn’t be traced to you. However, we managed to pick up a couple of prints off both amounts of money. Now we had a link to Lauren. Phone records from the two men led us to Lauren’s phone and ultimately Lauren’s address. You had two residences, one as Chelsea Vaughan and another as Lauren Stapleton.”

Morgan reached into the box and removed some photos.

“Here’s Lauren Stapleton entering her residence.” The photo showed a woman with dark hair and dark glasses entering a brownstone. “And here’s Chelsea Vaughan departing that same residence an hour later. Sloppy, Ms. Vaughan. After all that hard work, you slipped up.”

Marks picked up the surveillance photos and looked at them. He tossed them back on the table. “They could be two different women, Sergeant. Maybe my client’s a friend of this Lauren woman. Maybe she’s staying with her or even having an affair. It’s merely circumstantial evidence.”

“Our experts studied the photos in question,” Morgan said,

“and they concluded that the facial features belonged to the same woman. I don’t begin to understand the science involved in facial recognition, but they do, and so does the judicial system.”

She removed the tape recorder from the box and pressed Play. A woman’s voice said, “I want them dead now. You’ll find them at Chang’s Noodle Factory on Mott in Chinatown.”

“That doesn’t sound anything like my client,” Marks said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

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“But it sounds like Lauren Stapleton. This recording was made six hours before the assault in the noodle factory, Counselor. I’ve been informed that Ms. Worthington confirmed it was the voice of Lauren Stapleton.”

“So Lauren Stapleton’s responsible for the attempted murders. What’s the connection to Ms. Vaughan?”

“I thought you’d say that. So Counselor Worthington had Lauren’s records sent from Charleston. The fingerprints of Lauren Stapleton and Chelsea Vaughan are identical. Both women are one and the same, Counselor.”

Mr. Marks looked at Chelsea, who in turn stared venomously at Morgan.

“That voice recording won’t be admissible in court, Sergeant. You obtained it illegally.” Marks started to look for legal loopholes for his client.

Morgan placed another piece of paper on the table. “Wrong again. Here’s the warrant for that surveillance.” She waited for a moment, allowing the ramifications of what she had revealed to sink in. She reached into the box and pulled out a small electronic device. “And here’s your bug, Chelsea. Detective Chang discovered it under my desk. I wondered how you always knew where to find us.”

Morgan looked at Markham. He looked back at her, a subtle smile on his lips. She had done good.

“Now, we can talk about the murder of Rose McManus,”

Morgan said confidently.

* * *

Morgan sat in her wheelchair outside the interrogation room. Chelsea Vaughan was a hard nut to crack. Despite her well-crafted scenario, Chelsea refused to buckle under the constant questioning, leaving Morgan to only speculate as to the reason why. But she was pretty sure she had figured it all out.

Chelsea had done a cold thing to her family. She’d condemned her father and stepmother to plots within plots just so she could get her hands on the Vaughan millions. Chelsea started simply with stealing money from her father’s account and putting it into her mother’s account to hide the money trail. Mrs. Vaughan’s financial statements showed a regular transfer of money over the last three years, hidden in the allowance payments Vaughan made to her. Each amount was always under that $50,000 limit and transferred

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out as soon as it went into the account. If Connie Vaughan ever checked her balance, she wouldn’t have noticed any difference. Over the last three years, Chelsea had managed to siphon off over three million dollars. Then she heard a whisper that her father was going to change his will. Scared she would lose it all, she plotted to kill him and frame her stepmother for it. But there was talk of an audit of all their finances, so her timetable had to be moved up and changed. His murder would guarantee an audit of his finances, but if Chelsea could find a way for him to be jailed, instead, he could suffer an untimely accident while incarcerated. With her contacts, she could arrange something suitable. The upstart maid who thought she was a Vaughan was the obvious sacrificial lamb for the whole scheme. That left Connie Vaughan, who was in charge of the family fortune. If the evidence was planted right, Mrs. Vaughan would eventually be found to be the real culprit and suffer the same fate as her husband while in custody. Finally, that would leave the grieving daughter to find comfort as the sole beneficiary of the Vaughan fortune.

“That was some story, Sergeant,” Markham said. He had been the last to leave the interrogation room, watching as Chelsea Vaughan was escorted by two uniforms to the lockup, followed by the ever-present Mr. Marks, escorted by Henry.

“We’ll be in touch,” the ADA said, shaking Morgan’s and Markham’s hands before leaving.

“Yeah, long and complicated. She nearly got away with it, if not for the shoes in her closet. She must have thought we’d never make the connection to Lauren, otherwise why keep the shoes? A trophy, maybe? It’s the only piece of evidence tying her to the McManus murder. With the bank records for the money transfers, we’d only have her on theft.”

Morgan was tired. She’d be glad to go home, secure in the knowledge that Chelsea got her just desserts.

“So, what’s your next step?” Markham asked.

“Me? Bed rest. I’ll leave the rest of the case in Chang’s capable hands.”

“I should hope so, Sergeant. You did well.” He smiled at her fondly.

“I did, didn’t I?” Morgan smiled then winced at the pain. “Ow. I’ve got to stop doing that.”

“You’re making me hurt just looking at you. Get some rest.”

“Yeah, I think I will.” Morgan moved clumsily and grimaced at the pain lancing through her knee.

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“Mickey would have been proud.” Markham rested his hand on her shoulder.

Morgan looked up at him, and an expression she hadn’t seen from him crossed his face. Could it be he was proud of her? “I hope so, sir. I hope so.” She hesitated. “May I ask how things are with you? Have you got the results back yet?”

For a second, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Was it bad news?

“False alarm. Everything’s fine.”

“Good to hear,” she whispered.

“I’m just glad it’s all over.” Markham let out a huge sigh.

“Now back to the hospital, young lady.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. Young lady? “They’ve sent me home to recuperate. In a few days I have to go back for physiotherapy on the knee.”

“Then off you go,” he said with a chuckle.

“Sir, Henry deserves some credit here. He put a lot of work into this case, and if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Markham said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“He’s a good man, sir.”

“He’s one of the best.” He looked directly at her. “You and he are two of the best.”

“What about Morelli?”

Markham pursed his lips. “I’m extremely disappointed in his actions. How could he fall apart like that?”

“It’s my fault, maybe, for egging him on.”

“Don’t go blaming yourself for this. He was always a bit of a troublemaker, Morgan, even before you arrived.”

“But I’m the one who pushed him over the edge.”

Markham shrugged. “In a way, I should thank you. I’m sorry you got hurt, but he could have crumbled elsewhere and someone could have died. I think it’s been coming for a long time. Perhaps it’s partly my fault for allowing this to go on as long as it did. His career’s over, Morgan. The best we can hope for is that he gets some help from a psychiatrist. Damn, I can’t believe he did that to you and Worthington.”

“You should have seen his eyes. There was nothing there, not even anger.” Morgan remembered that look and wondered whether Morelli would have tried to run them down if Chelsea hadn’t.

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“That’s a problem for the ‘too hard to figure out right now’

basket.” Markham’s eyebrows knitted together. “Is that everything, Sergeant?”

“I think so. Have you heard from… er… the counselor?”

Morgan didn’t want to seem too eager for news, but she had to know.

“She called earlier this morning from her parents’ home and asked after you. And the case, of course.”

“Of course. And how is she after her ordeal?”

“Her neck’s a little sore and her shoulder a bit stiff, but otherwise she’s fine, or so she tells me. So read into that what you will.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a lot like you, Sergeant. She’ll tell you what you want to hear. She could be flat on her back before she’ll admit being hurt.”

He looked pointedly at Morgan.

“Funny, I never thought of Andrea like that.” But she had—not that she would admit it, either. “Could you send her my regards for a speedy recovery when you talk to her next?”

“I have a feeling, Sergeant, you’ll be talking to her before I will.”

“I doubt that,” Morgan said, trying to hide the sadness she felt.

“Fine. I don’t want to see you until you’re up and about and fit to come back to work. You understand me? No shortcuts.”

“Aye, sir.” What was she going to do with herself for all that time?

“Go home. I’ll get Chang to drive you.”

“Definitely, but we’re making a slight detour before going back.”

“Morgan,” he said in warning.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But I’ve got to do something about this.”

She motioned at her hair.

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

“It’s just one short stop, and I’ll be sitting down all the time.”

While her boss didn’t say anything, she could see the beginnings of a smile touch the corner of his lips. She knew the cut her hair had suffered looked idiotic, and she wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer than she had to.

“I know you don’t want to go home, but it’s the best possible place for you right now. You know that. Just do what I ask. Please?”

“Actually, I think I’m ready for a break. This morning took a lot out of me. Just don’t tell Henry, okay?” She softened that 289

comment with a wide smile, ignoring the twinge of pain that resulted.

“If you go home to bed straight after your haircut, then you’ve got a deal.”

Henry returned from the cells and stood behind her chair.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure, partner. First stop, the hairdresser. Then home.”

“I’ll be by soon to see how you’re doing.” Markham’s voice rose to carry the few extra feet as Henry pushed the wheelchair away. Henry stopped when it seemed the conversation wasn’t finished.

“I’m sure Chang here will keep you well informed.”

“You don’t want me to visit my favorite sergeant?” Markham grinned at her.

“I’ll look forward to it.” Hell, lying around at home, she’d probably welcome a visit even from Andrea’s parents.

Chapter 23

Just as she had expected, the next few days consisted of sheer boredom in bed, broken only by Henry’s visits and Andrea’s calls. She couldn’t believe how relieved she was when she got that first call.

“How are you?”

“Andrea?” Morgan could barely keep her excitement in check.

“Miss me already, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.” There was really no point in hiding it. Morgan wanted her back where she belonged, in New York City.

“No snappy comeback?” Andrea asked, surprised.

“Not this time,” Morgan said soberly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired, sore, and bored. And I miss you.” Morgan asked the question that had been haunting her since she woke up in the hospital alone. “Why did you leave?”

“It wasn’t my decision, believe me. The captain pointed out that you would be under the microscope from the upper brass over this one, and he thought it prudent that I take some R and R back home. I can see his point, but it didn’t make it any easier to leave.”

“I’m glad to hear you didn’t want to leave.” Had Morgan tipped her hand by saying such things? At this point she didn’t care.

“Really? I missed you, too, Mo.” Andrea emphasized the nickname she used.

“What about the case?”

“The DA relieved me of the case and gave me time off to recuperate. They thought I was too close to prosecute it. Whatever. It’s out of my hands, and I can concentrate on you.”

“You can?” Morgan had a sense of wonder in her voice. Things were just… happening.

“I sure can. I should be home in a day or two, whenever I can get my mother off my back.”

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“Is she still trying to plan your wedding?” Morgan certainly hoped not.

“Yeah. This R and R is turning out to be anything but. Besides, I want to get back to my apartment… and you.”

“Are—are you sure this is what you want? That I’m what you want? Even after the incident in the shower?”

“Incident, Morgan? You mean do I still want you after we made love in the shower? Now more than ever.”

Now more than ever. Andrea had said those words with utter conviction, leaving Morgan no choice but to simply accept them.

“Anyhow, I’ll let you rest because you’re going to need it.”

“I am?” What was Andrea going to do to her?

“Yeah, there’s much more of New York to investigate with you.”

Morgan heard the chuckle down the phone line as they finished their conversation. She hung up, feeling giddy but relieved at the same time. Yes, Andrea led her into a trap with carefully worded connotation, and Morgan had fallen for it. But Andrea had enjoyed the sex, and she wanted more. That was the bottom line despite the double entendres. Yes, she was going to need her rest. Just as she hung up the phone, there was a knock at the door followed by the slip of a key into the keyhole. Henry had arrived.

“Hey, boss? You up to visitors?” he called from the front door.

“Sure.” What could she say? No? Henry had been more than generous with his time, cleaning up after her, making sure there was food in the fridge, and basically just keeping her company. She owed him for that.

“Auntie Morgan!” The screeches were amplified in the small bedroom as the kids came running in and jumped all over her bed.

“Eww,” Sophie said as she spotted Morgan. “What’s that?” Her finger pointed directly at Morgan’s slowly healing eye.

“Yeah, not a pretty sight, is it?”

“Jesus, Morgan, look at you,” Suzie said. “Henry said you got hurt, but he didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“So everyone keeps saying.” Now Morgan really felt good about herself. Not.

“Hey, get off that bed!” Suzie hollered and the children reluctantly complied. “Go and help Daddy with the bags.” She shooed them out the door.

“Bags?” Were they moving in?

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After the kids left and silence returned to the bedroom, Suzie sat on the edge of the mattress and gently patted Morgan’s leg.

“How are you holding up?”

“Besides being bored out of my brain? Fine. Your husband has been driving me nuts with his constant attention. Doesn’t he have a home to go to?”

“That’s my Henry,” Suzie said. “He’s a real sweetie.”

Morgan didn’t think of him as a sweetie, but she wasn’t married to him. But she could certainly agree with the sentiment. Henry was a Godsend. “So what’s all this about bags?”

“He’s just stocking up your shelves, Old Mother Hubbard.”

“I do quite well, thank you very much.” But she couldn’t deny it. Her eating habits were shit.

“Henry tells me your physical therapy starts tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’m not particularly looking forward to it.”

“You need to get back on that leg, Morgan. It was touch and go with all that swelling around the knee at the beginning. Take the gift you’ve been given, my friend. You don’t want to end up relying on a cane.”

“You can say that again.” She had an insight into that world with her broken wrist. “I’ll be a good girl, so stop worrying. I might not like it, but I’ll do it.”

Henry appeared at the bedroom door. “All done.”

“You are a bad boy, Mr. Chang,” Morgan said.

“And you are a bad patient, Ms. O’Callaghan.” He turned around and called out to his kids, “Come on, everyone, let’s let Auntie Morgan get some sleep.” He ushered his brood out and pushed them toward the front door.

“Hey, bro?” Morgan waited for Henry to appear at the bedroom door. “You are one in a million, buddy.”

“Just don’t forget that when you’re handing out promotions, boss.”

“As if.” She waved her good hand at him, sending him on his way. If she ever did get into a position where she could grant his wish, she would be there with her wand.

* * *

Morgan came home from her first therapy session, her knee and wrist aching from the stress they had been put through. A few mental reminders of what was at the end of all the pain had kept her going. Her therapist’s jovial smile and sunny disposition grated on 293

her so much that Morgan was ready to punch her into next week. She was doing the best she could, and the woman wasn’t satisfied, constantly trying to push her to do more.

So here she was, flat on her back on her bed after her first session, her raised arms lying next to her head. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered if it would ever end. But for now, all she wanted to do was have a nap. Who knew that gentle exercise would be so exhausting?

There was a knock at the door, and she chose to ignore it. She was just too damned tired to argue with a door-to-door salesman. The knocking stopped and she breathed easily. The knock returned, a little louder this time, and it sounded like the knocker was not going to leave without talking to her.

Morgan struggled to pull herself upright and slid into the wheelchair. She pushed herself slowly to the door, her good hand trying to compensate for the weakness in her other hand. “What do you—” Her words stopped as she opened the door to Andrea.

“Hey,” she said softly, little flutters in her chest. “When did you get back?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. Sure. Where are my manners?” Morgan abruptly tried to move her chair backwards, but instead it swerved sideways into the wall. “Damn it.”

Andrea entered and closed the door behind her. She stepped up to Morgan’s chair and took control of it. “Where do you want to go?”

“The sofa’s fine.” Morgan looked up from her seat and smiled. She was so happy to see her again. “When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago.”

“You didn’t have to come over right away, you know.” But it meant a lot to her that Andrea had.

“Yes, I did. I went by my apartment to drop off my luggage and change my clothes.” Andrea stopped the chair and allowed Morgan to move herself onto the sofa. Once done, she shifted the chair out of the way and took her place next to Morgan on the seat.

“But I couldn’t stay away.”

Morgan looked at her. What could she say? She herself had been counting the days to Andrea’s return. “So,” she said uncomfortably.

“Run out of things to say already?” Andrea teased.

“Not really, no, but I’m not sure what to say here.”

“You could say ‘kiss me, you fool,’ but that’s just me.”

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Morgan did as she was told and repeated, “Kiss me, you fool.”

Andrea did as she was asked and kissed her, withdrawing a moment later to rub her lip.

“You okay?” Morgan wondered whether she had done something wrong.

“Yeah, it just tickled.”

“Oh, the scar.”

“When did the stitches come out?”

“A couple of days ago. It’s still a bit rough. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad to see it’s on the mend.” Andrea’s hand came up and cupped Morgan’s cheek. “So close,” she whispered.

“Everything’s fine,” Morgan said.

“But I could have lost you.”

“You didn’t. Besides, I’d do it all over again to protect you.” A tear formed in Andrea’s eye, and Morgan gazed in wonder as it trickled slowly down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Andy.” Morgan moved in and placed a gentle kiss on Andrea’s cheek.

“You called me Andy.”

“Hmm… I wonder why? I much prefer Andrea.” Morgan dismissed the conversation as her lips pressed against Andrea’s. They lost themselves in each other for a while, putting aside the various aches and pains to enjoy the emotion flowing between them. As much as they wanted to take it farther, they silently agreed Morgan wasn’t up to that sort of exercise. Not yet.

* * *

Morgan had been a week into her physical therapy, and as had been the ritual in the days before, she was reading a book in the hospital cafeteria while she waited for Henry to pick her up during his lunch hour. At first the therapy had been slow, painful, and very frustrating, but after only a few sessions, she was noticing a difference. Her leg was losing its stiffness, and she was getting back some mobility. She would have moved up to crutches, but as her mending wrist wasn’t up to supporting that much weight yet, she was bound to the wheelchair for a few more days. She couldn’t wait for the day to come when she could step out of that chair and walk with a cane.

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She had been engrossed in her book when a voice called to her.

“Hello there.” It wasn’t Henry. She looked up to see Arthur Vaughan.

“Hello, Morgan.”

“Hey, how are you? What are you doing here?” She noted the flowers nestled in his arm.

“Just visiting a friend,” he said. “May I join you?”

Morgan looked around, wondering whether this was a good idea, but no one seemed to be noticing. “Sure. Sit down. Good to see you, Mr. Vaughan.”

“Arthur.”

“Arthur.” She couldn’t get used to calling him by his first name.

“I suppose I wanted to say sorry for my family. Well, for Chelsea, and what she did to you and Ms. Worthington. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’m in your debt.” Vaughan put the flowers on the table.

“Arthur, we put your child in jail. You should be cursing the police department right now.”

He looked at her sadly. “I should have seen this coming.” He held up a hand. “No, before you speak, I had known Chelsea was getting out of hand. I just didn’t realize how badly.”

“No one could have seen this coming, Arthur.”

“But she’s my child and therefore my responsibility. I’m just so sorry you had to suffer because of it.”

“Speaking of which, I don’t understand. What’s with this attachment you’ve got to me?” Morgan asked bluntly.

“I’m not sure. I’ve asked myself that very question many times since the day I laid eyes on you. I don’t know. I really don’t. I saw something in you that called to a part of me.”

Morgan couldn’t argue with that. She felt the same way. “Now you know why I helped you. I can’t explain it, either.”

He smiled and glanced at the ceiling. “Maybe someone up there wanted us to get together.”

Morgan’s first thought went to her dad. “Maybe someone did.”

“You would be a daughter any man would be proud of.”

“I don’t know if I can live up to that.” Morgan wasn’t quite ready yet to replace her dad.

“Can we at least be friends?”

“And then what?”

“Please?”

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She looked into his eyes, and gave in. “All right. Friends.” She smiled. “Just don’t expect me to fix your chauffeur’s parking tickets.”

He laughed. “I can live with that. Is there anything you need?”

“Don’t go spoiling me. I’ll never live it down.”

“Can we meet from time to time? Just to talk, Morgan. I enjoy your company very much. It’s so nice to talk to someone who doesn’t expect something in return or is too scared to speak their mind.”

“It would probably be wise to leave this until after the court case, Arthur. It could be misconstrued as you trying to exert some influence on the matter. In fact—”

“You’re right, of course. Then I’ll take my leave.” He stood up.

“Before you go, how did you know I was here?”

“Detective Chang was most helpful. A speedy recovery, my dear, and I will await your call.”

“Goodbye, Arthur.” When he walked away, Morgan called out.

“You forgot your flowers for your friend.”

“No, I didn’t.” He smiled and walked away.

* * *

When Morgan was able to move around with a cane, Andrea threw a small dinner party, inviting Henry and Suzie, Morgan of course, and Markham and Velasquez. Morgan’s eyes never left Andrea when she was in the room. She couldn’t fault her. Andrea played the perfect hostess and showed them her apartment. Then she asked Henry to keep everyone’s drink topped while she attended to the food.

Morgan had spent her time looking at all the pictures and knickknacks on the well-appointed shelves. They told a lot about a person, she had found, and what was scattered around only confirmed her opinion of Andrea. One particular framed photo took her interest, showing Andrea with a small child. Morgan frowned. Who was this?

“What’s wrong?” Andrea asked.

“Who’s this?” The words tumbled from Morgan’s mouth. She hadn’t noticed Andrea’s arrival.

Andrea took the picture out of Morgan’s hands and glanced at the photo. “He’s my angel,” she said.

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“Angel?” Morgan faltered. She wanted to know, but she didn’t want to know. She drew in a deep breath and asked, “Is he your son?”

“My son? Where on earth did you get an idea like that?”

“Well, you look old enough to be his mom in the photo.”

“Oh. No, that’s Beau. My little brother.”

Morgan released a breath. “And why do you call him your angel?”

Andrea moved to a large stuffed chair and sat down, forcing Morgan to follow her if she wanted the story.

“This picture was taken before— Just after this picture was taken, Beau contracted meningitis. It was so severe that it left him deaf and brain damaged.”

Oh, God. Why had she brought the subject up? But she knew the answer. She was fearful that Andrea was hiding one more secret from her. That damned trust issue reared its ugly head again. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, but somehow those words were so inadequate at a time like this.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” Andrea smiled. “It took me many hours of introspection to figure that one out.”

“So that’s where you learned sign language.”

“Yes. Not that he understands that much. He’s twelve now, but mentally he’s about five. It’s been slow progress, but he’s learning.”

“He wasn’t with your family at the hospital.”

“No, he doesn’t react well to change. They thought it better for him to stay in his routine. He’s much happier that way. He’s such a sweet, sweet child, so young and innocent. He’s my angel.”

Morgan shifted so she was sitting beside Andrea, and she took her hand in silent comfort. Even the most affluent of families could be struck down by the hand of Fate.

“Are you two going to be playing patty-cake all night?”

Markham asked.

“Sure, we’re moving on to Tic-Tac-Toe next.” Morgan’s comment brought a round of chuckles from those in the room.

“Well,” Andrea said, “dinner is about ready. Would you all like to adjourn to the dining room?”

The guests followed the hostess. They took their seats at the dinner table that was beautifully laid out with all the trimmings.

“Dining room,” Morgan muttered aside to Henry, “I don’t even have a dining table.”

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“Stop complaining, Red. Our dining table looks like the storming of the beaches at Normandy on D-Day.”

“Good point. Let’s eat.”

Chapter 24

Morgan sat in the back of the taxi and thought about the evening’s events. It had turned out surprisingly well. The company was good, the conversation sparkling, and the food brilliant. She couldn’t remember when she last had such an enjoyable night, not counting dinners with her dad. Henry had offered her a lift home, but it was in the opposite direction to where he lived, and they all knew the babysitter would be anxious to leave. No, for all concerned it was better she took a taxi.

As her key finally slid into the keyhole of the door to her apartment, Morgan relaxed. Walking with the cane had been tiring. She was on the mend, but moving about still took a lot out of her. She was looking forward to the day when she would have her old body back.

She just wanted to sit on the sofa, but doing that would result in her waking in the morning in the position in which she fell asleep. Morgan pushed past her lethargy and headed to the bedroom to get ready for bed. She had changed into her normal sleeping attire of tank top and boxer shorts and was in the process of brushing her teeth when the doorbell rang. She hastily rinsed her mouth and stiffly walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

“It’s me” could have been anyone, but Morgan knew that voice intimately. She slipped the bolt out of the lock and unlocked the deadbolt. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Morgan stuck her head out into the hallway to look one way then the other for trouble.

“Can I come in?” Andrea’s voice was calm.

“Of course. What’s going on?” Morgan’s words stopped dead as she felt Andrea’s gaze on her. “What’s wrong?” She looked down her own body for something amiss. “Did something fall off?”

Andrea walked past her and into the apartment, waiting patiently while Morgan closed and locked the door. “Come here, 299

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you sexy thing,” Andrea said softly. Her hand came up, hooked behind Morgan’s neck, and pulled her in for a searing kiss. Morgan backed off, stunned. “Er…”

“Your time is up, Sergeant. I’ve played nice while you were recuperating.”

“Fine, but why tonight?”

“You survived the dinner, and that constituted a pass in my book.”

Little sparks filled Morgan’s gut. “Ah. So dinner was a test for me.”

“No. Yes. No, it really was because I wanted to say thank you to y’all for saving my life. But I also wanted to see how you were coping.”

“And now I’m ready to be sacrificed, is that it?” Morgan asked brashly. She wasn’t angry at the hidden agenda. After all, it had been simmering in the back of her mind lately, as well.

“Follow me.”

Morgan did as she was told and followed Andrea into the bedroom. So much for getting a good night’s sleep. Hell, she would give up a whole week’s sleep for what was about to happen. Andrea put her hands on Morgan’s chest and gently pushed. The back of Morgan’s knees touched the mattress, tipping her until she lost her balance and sat softly on the bed.

Andrea moved to the bedside lamp and turned it on then switched off the overhead light. The room was bathed in a muted orange glow that lent a sensual feel to the room. Andrea stood between Morgan’s spread thighs, her legs brushing Morgan’s knees. She slowly started to unbutton her own blouse. “Last chance to run,” she purred.

So, here she was. A sacrificial lamb to the little blonde lioness stalking her. But Morgan would willingly go, letting all her doubts, questions, and suspicions slowly fade away. This was their time, and she would grab the chance with both hands. Well, with one good hand and a bum wrist.

Morgan was riveted as Andrea worked her way down her blouse, undoing one button after another. This slow strip was sheer agony, but Morgan could see Andrea wasn’t going to be rushed. Andrea dropped her voice, allowing her Southern drawl to fill her words. “Sugar, are you my honey now? Hmm?” She continued to undo buttons and shift material, allowing the silk to slide sensuously down her skin. “Y’all like what you see, Sergeant?”

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Andrea’s grass green eyes slowly changed to a darker hue in the low light, darkening even further as her excitement grew. Oh, yeah, Morgan liked what she saw and was eager to the point of frustration to see more.

“You know I do.” Morgan’s own voice had dropped to a deep growl. “And if you take much longer, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Andrea laughed and slid out of her pants, standing only in her underwear.

“Good God,” Morgan whispered huskily. “Why bother wearing any underwear?” Andrea stood there like some Greek goddess dressed in nothing more than scraps of lace that passed for a bra and a G-string. Added to the ensemble were stockings and a garter belt, all in virginal white.

Andrea smiled. “I like the thought of you taking these off me.”

She lifted her leg to the bed, maintaining eye contact with Morgan.

“C’mon, honey. Give a girl a hand.” She indicated her stockings and the clasps of her garter belt.

As much as the thought of Andrea in a garter belt and stockings was calling to her, she wanted nothing but skin between the two of them. She wanted Andrea to be as naked and vulnerable as Morgan soon would be. Licking her lips, Morgan slowly removed Andrea’s stockings, ignoring the twinges of pain in her fingers.

“Very nice,” Andrea whispered. “I knew I could count on you.”

Morgan was in Heaven. She pulled Andrea against her, hearing her sigh as Morgan wrapped her in an embrace and drew her cheek across Andrea’s stomach.

“Oooh, that’s even nicer.”

Morgan’s hands spread across Andrea’s naked back momentarily before dropping to her ass. “Oh, Jesus. Ever since I saw you in that damn leotard, I’ve wanted to touch your ass. Now that I have in the shower, I’m addicted to it.”

Andrea moaned softly as Morgan kneaded her butt. Her own fingers slid through the short fiery curls on top of Morgan’s head. “I like your hair this way.”

“Yeah?” Morgan mumbled against Andrea’s stomach. She was still trying to get used to the cut, but if Andrea liked it, then who was she to complain? Morgan looked up the short body, her sight following the line of terrain over ribs, breasts and neck, to finally settle on that angelic face whose eyes shone in the dim light.

“It suits you,” Andrea added with a smile.

“Well, if I had known, I would have cut it sooner.”

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“No, you wouldn’t have. You’re stubborn. I would have had to cut it in your sleep.”

“Yeah, probably.” Morgan brushed her lips over Andrea’s abdomen and felt the answering shiver.

“Thank you,” Andrea said.

“For what?”

“For being there when I needed you. For saving me in more ways than one. For loving me.”

Morgan swallowed hard. Love? Was she ready for such a leap? Andrea’s hand cupped her chin and tipped her head up for a kiss. Lips and tongues touched and tasted, relearning all those secrets that had been glimpsed in stolen moments. Morgan’s hands moved, gently massaging Andrea’s ass before tracking to the thin straps of her G-string. Morgan felt her stiffen. “Are you okay with this?” she asked.

“It’s nothing.”

But Morgan wasn’t convinced. “If you don’t want to do this…”

She tried to hide her disappointment.

Andrea guided Morgan’s hands down to her G-string, hooking Morgan’s fingers under the flimsy material. Morgan’s gaze followed the path of the underpants to the floor, then rose slowly to absorb the expanse of perfect skin now on display. Again she brushed her lips across Andrea’s skin, barely touching her in passing, but expressing a tenderness that couldn’t be spoken, at least not yet.

Morgan’s hands wandered to reacquaint herself with Andrea’s body. She loved how Andrea felt. Her fingers traced lines down her soft limbs. Morgan closed her eyes to sense the subtle signals emanating from Andrea’s body as her strong hands gently explored her. When Morgan removed Andrea’s bra and garter belt, Andrea whispered, “Yes.”

She caught Morgan’s gaze and inhaled sharply as Morgan gently squeezed one of her nipples before moving to the other, teasing her.

“Oh, God, Morgan. What you do to me.”

Morgan’s slow caress became a solid pinch, which caused Andrea to buck in her grasp. “Please—”

“Please, what?” Morgan’s voice fell to a low rumble, the intonation leaving no doubt that Andrea was going to be loved in the best possible way.

Andrea groaned as Morgan started sucking her nipple. “Please, honey, put me out of my misery,” Andrea said with a gasp. 303

“Not yet.”

“Please, Morgan.”

Emboldened by Andrea’s desire, Morgan expressed her inner thoughts. “You don’t want me to love you?” She brushed her mouth over Andrea’s nipple. “To touch you?” Morgan rubbed her hand over Andrea’s pubic hair. “To kiss you?” Morgan teased Andrea’s other nipple with her tongue. “To taste you?” Morgan dipped her finger to find Andrea’s wetness then placed her fingertip in her mouth.

Morgan looked at her beguilingly and taunted Andrea to deny her inner desires. “Then get on with it,” Andrea whispered.

“Tsk tsk, Ms. Worthington. You must learn some patience. All good things come to those who wait.”

Morgan suddenly found herself on her back on the bed. Andrea grabbed her boxer shorts and her clothes flew off in a flurry. So much for teasing. Andrea didn’t stop until Morgan was as naked as she was.

“I see you’re impatient after all.”

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough, Morgan O’Callaghan. All the barriers for why we couldn’t be together are gone, and yet you still say no.” Andrea softened her tone. “My love, I must have you now.”

“I didn’t say no. I just said slow down. But if you’re not happy with that, then as you wish, my lady.”

Morgan pulled Andrea down to the bed and rolled over on top of her. She slid her body against Andrea’s, allowing them both to feel breasts against breasts, stomach against stomach, and hip against hip.

Andrea moaned.

“What is your heart’s desire?” Morgan asked as her lips found Andrea’s neck.

“My heart’s desire? I thought I was looking at her.”

“How do you want me to love you?”

“Just by being you, Morgan. You’ve already given me everything I want, so this is just the icing on the cake. Show me, my love. Show me how to love you.”

A gentle smile crossed Morgan’s lips at such sweet words. Their lips once again met, almost chaste in that single touch, taking a moment just for a simple affirmation of their commitment to one another. Morgan pulled back to study her, allowing her thumbs to brush over high cheekbones and to touch Andrea’s beauty mark.

“You are so beautiful,” Andrea said softly.

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“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, yes you are. You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

“Oh, come on. I’m tall, skinny, and covered in freckles.”

Andrea smiled as she reached up to touch Morgan’s face. “Yes, you are,” she whispered. “And entirely gorgeous.”

“Me?” Morgan had always thought of herself as the gawky teenager from all those years ago—a tall, thin, freckle-faced kid with a mass of frizzy orange hair.

“Yes. You.” Andrea pulled Morgan’s face toward her, brushing her lips over Morgan’s. “Love me,” she said with a sigh. “Love me.”

Andrea’s fingers kneaded her back, and strong fingers grabbed her skin. Morgan’s back muscles worked as Andrea drew her skin taut. She investigated Andrea’s earlobe with her tongue, and her hot breath sent goose bumps over Andrea’s sensitized skin. That same tongue wandered aimlessly down Andrea’s neck.

“Okay?” Morgan stopped and stared into Andrea’s eyes.

“Definitely.”

“No. Come on. What’s that smile for?”

“Just thinking something mushy. You wouldn’t like it.”

“No? Try me.”

Andrea brushed Morgan’s face with her fingers and slowly traced her cheek. “I was just thinking how right this is, you loving me. I’ve found my home.” Her hand lowered to rest over Morgan’s heart. “In here.”

Morgan blushed.

“See?” Andrea said with a giggle. “I told you it was mushy.”

“Yes, you did. Silly me.” Morgan grinned back. “But I like it.”

Lovingly, Andrea reached up and hooked her hand around Morgan’s neck, pulling her gently down toward her lips. Their mouths touched, slowly and thoroughly exploring. There was no rush or demand, only selfless giving to the other’s humble entreaty. Several minutes passed with nothing more than a whispered sigh or a muffled moan, as they enjoyed the intimacy of holding each other. In the silence of the room, Andrea suddenly spoke. “I love you.”

Morgan tensed and she felt an answering hesitation from the woman in her arms. “I—”

Andrea placed a finger over Morgan’s lips. “Shh. I’m not expecting an answer. I just needed to say it.”

“But—”

“No, it will come, Morgan, when you’re ready.”

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“When?”

Andrea winked. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“You seem awfully sure of yourself there.”

“I am.”

Andrea said those two words with utter conviction, two words that rang like a pure-pitch bell in the silence of the night that resonated in Morgan’s heart. Andrea was making a claim for her soul, and she was unable to stop her.

Morgan’s emotions had taken a battering recently so she let her body speak for her, worshipping every piece of skin she could find. Breathless moans and quiet whimpers spoke as clearly as a Shakespearean sonnet. Her pain was long forgotten as she reveled in the woman that was Andrea Worthington.

Morgan let herself go, replacing gentle exploration with passionate encouragement as her desire echoed Andrea’s. Nothing was sacred as Morgan led Andrea to her final destination, touching, exploring, and caressing hidden recesses. Morgan hoped that under her careful guidance Andrea’s previous pleasurable experiences would be left far behind and that nothing would ever be the same. She was making her own bid for Andrea’s heart. Shifting herself down the lithe body beneath her, Morgan was determined to reach her ultimate goal. Her injuries made the journey difficult, but she paid them no heed, intent on Andrea’s pleasure above all else.

Morgan had never felt such joy as she did watching Andrea fall apart. Consummation hit Andrea like a tornado. A strangled cry escaped her lips as Morgan drew out her pleasure. Laying her head on Andrea’s stomach, Morgan felt the rapid rise and fall of her abdomen as Andrea tried to breathe. “Oh, God,”

Andrea whimpered.

“If you say so. I don’t claim that title, though.” Morgan sighed.

“That was amazing.”

Andrea stroked Morgan’s hair. “But you didn’t—”

“Yes, I did. Through you. Your reaction was just exquisite.”

Morgan rested her chin on the soft skin of Andrea’s stomach and just watched her. She traced Andrea’s jaw with her finger.

“Exquisite,” she whispered.

“And you—” Andrea’s voice was hoarse with emotion. Gently, she guided Morgan onto her back, mindful of her still healing body.

“So much pain…”

“It was worth it.”

“I’ve never been worth that much before.”

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“You’re priceless.”

Andrea smiled then drew Morgan into more long, lingering kisses. Morgan eagerly lapped up her attention, basking in Andrea’s loving glow. Those same lips shifted, anointing her skin with butterfly kisses, discovering Morgan’s star-dusted skin along its way.

All that had happened between them came down to this. Bodies became aroused and souls soared as Andrea allowed her spirit free rein to express her love as only she knew how. Instinct and emotion seemed to guide Andrea’s hands, lips, and tongue in her discovery of love, expressing all that she was with a passionate reverence.

“Exquisite,” Andrea repeated.

Morgan had forgotten what this was like. How could she? Love was a life-altering experience. How had her mind wiped it from her memory? Was it because she had never experienced true love before? She might have thought she had, but she hadn’t. The silence drew around them like a warm blanket, and they were unwilling to disturb the serenity. Morgan clumsily reached down for a cover and pulled it over their sated bodies. “Sleep,” she said softly.

And so they rested, snuggling together in the soft nest as they began to drift off into a contented sleep. Several moments passed before Morgan murmured one final thought. “I love you, too.”

Andrea snuggled closer.

That final barrier had disappeared.

Morgan was ready to live again.

About the Author

Erica Lawson is a “dinky di” Aussie, born and raised in Sydney, Australia, 52 years ago. She has been married for 32 years and has two grown-up daughters. She has no fancy degrees or diplomas, content to finish schooling at secondary grade at age 17 and join the workforce. She has worked as a secretary for most of her working life, taking time off to raise said kids, in a variety of interesting fields from a government scientific organization, the fire brigade, the film industry and finally, for the last 15 years, with a psychiatrist. Many of her friends will attest to the fact that she finally found her niche in the last job, gaining many helpful hints for her own state of mind.

Erica was a “late bloomer” in starting her writing career. For many years, she never felt the need to express herself on paper. Her artistic needs didn’t emerge until her mothering needs had abated, whereupon she discovered that there was a world outside the family home. Some encouragement finally pushed her out of the writing nest and she spread her wings to fly as high as she could. This is her first published work.

Coming soon from Blue Feather Books:

Unfinished Business, by I.Christie

It appears that Lady Luck is smiling on Claire Hanson, a detective in the Petima Police Department. She wins a stack of money in the office pool and then has her annual vacation moved forward. Some friends loan her their RV, and she sets off for some much needed R&R at her favorite campground. But Lady Luck is a fickle mistress. On her way to the campground, Claire picks up the enigmatic MaryLyn Smith. While at the campground, a series of unfortunate “accidents”

befall Claire, and MaryLyn is never around when they happen. Claire chalks it up to coincidence, but when the RV is raided by law enforcement officials who find planted contraband and Claire is severely beaten in the incident, she knows these aren’t chance events. What she doesn’t know is whether MaryLyn is involved or not.

Claire has long suspected that the Petima Police Department has a number of dirty cops—so dirty that they’ve had officers who won’t join in their dealings murdered. When Claire receives a not-so-veiled threat that she might find herself in a body bag if she doesn’t play along, she makes it her personal mission to get to the root of the problem—or die trying. At every turn, she finds herself questioning everything she thought she knew about her friends and work associates…

and about MaryLyn.

As Claire works her way through the knots and tangles of the web of deceit, she is never sure who can be trusted and who will try to ensnare her. Can she expose the corruption and once and for all take care of the Unfinished Business?

Lesser Prophets, by Kelly Sinclair

We were the despised, the unloved, the fitfully tolerated, the novelty acts, and in some fortunate places, the embraced and even cherished.

In those safe harbors, we celebrated each stage of our growing emancipation even though others of our tribe were faced with hangman’s gallows or less deadly alternatives and dared not show their true faces. We passed as “normal” when possible, and we were penalized when we could not pass. We only had freedom when they said we could be free. That was our world. We knew none other.

But then God, or Fate, or the Omniscient Divine—or merely happenstance—negated all the rules, and our status was forever changed.

This is how the new world began. We were the Lesser

Prophets, and this is our story.

Coming soon, only from

Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles:

Tempus Fugit

Mavis Applewater

978-0-9794120-0-4

In the Works

Val Brown

978-0-9822858-4-8

Addison Black and the

M.J. Walker

978-0-9794120-2-8

Eye of Bastet

Diminuendo

Emily Reed

978-0-9822858-0-0

Merker’s Outpost

I. Christie

978-0-9794120-1-1

Whispering Pines

Mavis Applewater

978-0-9794120-6-6

Detours

Jane Vollbrecht

978-0-9822858-1-7

From Hell to Breakfast

Joan Opyr

978-0-9794120-7-3

Journeys

Anne Azel

978-0-9794120-9-7

Accidental Rebels

Kelly Sinclair

978-0-9794120-5-9

Playing For First

Chris Paynter

978-0-9822858-3-1

www.bluefeatherbooks.com

Document Outline

- PM_Front_Pages.pdf

- PM Text.pdf

- PM_ Back Pages.pdf

Table of Contents

A BLUE FEATHER BOOK

Table of Contents

A BLUE FEATHER BOOK