Chasing Morgan

by Jennifer Ryan

  “She didn’t want her name to get out to the press. She didn’t want anyone to know she was helping the FBI. Now everyone knows. They know she’s been working with me.” He rubbed at the sides of his head to try and ease the last of the throbbing ache.

  “She sounded so scared,” he said miserably.

  The press conference continued, and Janet James’s next question almost sent him to his knees.

  “I understand this psychic, Morgan, also directed the FBI and yourself to several of the ‘clients.’ In short, she named names. That’s quite a gift if she can link these men to the prostitution ring.”

  “Morgan provided several names of wealthy, well-connected men linked with the abducted women.”

  Detective Stewart implied the entire case had been built on Morgan’s predictions. If the public thought the FBI could charge these individuals with a crime based on a psychic’s word, the FBI would look like a laughingstock. This case was turning into a media nightmare, and Stewart fed the frenzy.

  Davies physically nudged Detective Stewart from the podium. Although it appeared he simply took up the space where Stewart had been, Stewart knew the score. The FBI replaced him again. Davies didn’t care and addressed the press and the gathering audience. He looked out across the faces to the rear and spotted Tyler and Sam well away from the crowd. Sam held Tyler up. He had a firm grasp on his upper arm and Tyler looked stricken. Blood ran down his face and onto his shirt. The worst possible situation, he wondered if Morgan would ever help the FBI again. He considered the number of cases that might go unsolved if she didn’t.

  “The FBI set up a sting and arrested the individuals participating in the solicitation of a prostitute. The individuals arrested, no matter their financial standing or personal connections in the community, were arrested based on the evidence and their breaking the law. We also freed the women from their abductors, and criminal charges have been filed against those individuals. Let me emphasize that the FBI, in conjunction with the SFPD, worked diligently to uncover the evidence to bring these criminals to justice. I would also like to inform you that while the FBI on occasion uses psychics to aid in an investigation of a case, they only play a small role. While Morgan provided the FBI with information, the FBI and police bear the responsibility to prove the charges.”

  Janet James, ever aware of the camera on her, gave her most serious look. “Agent Davies, please provide Morgan’s full name. I’m sure the public would love to know who this woman is and how she can pick names out of thin air and link them to criminal activity. It makes one wonder what other abilities she might possess.”

  “Neither the FBI nor the SFPD have any further comment about Morgan and her association with the FBI.”

  Before Janet James made any further comments or questioned him further, he thanked everyone for coming, stepped away from the podium, and went directly to the chief of police. He leaned into his ear and made it clear that outing Morgan, the use of a psychic, and Stewart’s assertion that the FBI’s reputation was less than impeccable was incomprehensible. He wanted Stewart’s ass.

  A simple press conference had turned into a ticking time bomb for the FBI. Resigned, Davies wasn’t going home any time soon and headed back to his office to meet with Tyler and Sam. No doubt they’d be waiting for him.

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  SAM DIDN’T KNOW what to do about Tyler. He’d gone from devastated to angry to quiet since Morgan’s name went out to the press. He steered Tyler to the car and shoved him inside. Sam didn’t like the blood coming from Tyler’s nose, or that it took several minutes and every fast-food napkin he scrounged up to stop it.

  “You’re bleeding all over the place.”

  “My fucking head is killing me.”

  Tyler stared blankly out the windshield throughout the entire ride back to the office, disturbing Sam.

  They sat in the parking garage for nearly five minutes with no indication Tyler intended to move. Ever. “We’re here, get out.” Sam gave Tyler a shove to get him moving.

  They took the elevator up to the fifth floor in silence. Sam kept an eye on Tyler as he made his way to his cubicle and dropped into his seat.

  He stared at his desk without really seeing it. Sam didn’t understand why Tyler took this so badly. No one could possibly find Morgan without knowing her last name. Even they didn’t know it, or where she lived. They’d considered trying to find her on several occasions. Tyler always stopped at the last minute. He didn’t want to jeopardize the tenuous relationship they had with her. He had a gut feeling that if he found her without her permission, it would ruin things between them, and she’d disappear from his life.

  “Man, come on. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

  Tyler heard Sam like an echo in the chasm of his mind. If he’d had any doubt before, or more accurately denied the obvious, he couldn’t anymore. No more Morgan. In some awesome way, she’d become a part of him. And now she was gone. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew she wouldn’t speak to him in his mind anymore. She wouldn’t call with a clue on one of his cases. He’d lost her today, and he had no idea how to get her back. He didn’t know if he wanted to get her back. The loss of her felt like a death, her presence in his mind replaced with a grief so deep it rocked him to the core. He didn’t know whether he could live through her coming back, and maybe losing her all over again. It hurt too much. More than he thought possible. He cared for her more than anyone else in his life—except maybe his sister.

  “She’s gone. She knew her name was linked to me and given out to the press. I heard her.”

  Tyler’s monotone voice shifted Sam’s concerned expression into something more disturbed.

  “What do you mean, she knew? How can she be gone? She wasn’t here. Was she?”

  Sam must have felt as out of his element as Tyler did whenever Morgan was involved. Something strange happened. The bloodstains on his shirt and sleeve reminded him of the excruciating pain when Morgan tore away from him. He couldn’t come up with a better explanation for what happened, leaving him raw and hurting.

  “I listened to that arrogant asshole tell the press everything about how we solved the case. He gave them my name and Morgan’s. He told them we’d met in Texas. She screamed in my mind so loud, my head felt like it might explode. One minute she’s there, and the next . . . she’s gone.”

  He turned from his desk and faced Sam standing in the opening to his cubicle with his shoulder braced on one side and his arm stretched across to the other.

  “I’ve never really explained my connection to her. Sometimes she calls just to talk. I’ve told you that before,” he rambled.

  Sam stood up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. Tyler’s words might have been difficult to believe, but it didn’t make them any less true. Tyler couldn’t explain it. It just was.

  “What I haven’t told you is I’d think about her and want her to call, and she would. Whenever I needed to hear from her, she called. And sometimes she was just a whisper in my mind telling me what I needed to hear.” He didn’t add she’d tell him he wasn’t alone. He was now.

  Utterly, desperately alone.

  “She’s gone. It’s as if she was inside of me, and now I’m empty.”

  At a loss, Sam opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and closed it with a frown. Next, he tried to make Tyler feel better. “Maybe this isn’t as bad as we think. I mean, what does the press really know? We used a psychic and her name is Morgan. You met her in Texas. That isn’t a lot of information to go on. It isn’t like they’re going to find her and plaster her face all over the news. Stewart made himself look like an idiot. The only thing he accomplished was telling the press the police had done all the real investigative work, and we came in and used the word of a psychic to take over their case and tie it up like a bow without any evidence. You know it will all come out in the wash.”

  Tyler remained quiet and seeped in his own thoughts—or lack thereof, since M
organ refused, or couldn’t, answer his silent plea to come back.

  “The police chief is probably ripping Stewart a new one right now for blowing your cover. Davies will make sure his ass gets handed to him on a platter,” Sam coaxed.

  “That’s something, at least.” Tyler shrugged. “I know the case is sound. The press doesn’t have any more information on Morgan than we do. What I can’t explain is why it upset her like that? I also can’t explain that I know in my gut that somehow we’ve opened up a can of worms, and those worms are rotten. I think we just put her in danger. I don’t know how to fix this, or how to protect her from something I can’t even explain.” He kicked his desk drawer in frustration.

  “Why do you think she’s in danger?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a feeling. Remember when we were working the Silver Fox case, when you met Elizabeth?”

  Sam would never forget that case. He’d met the love of his life and almost gotten her killed, twice. “What’s that got to do with now? The Silver Fox is dead.”

  “Remember the message from Morgan to you? Mind your back. Not watch your back, but mind your back, and that funny feeling you get creeping up your spine when something isn’t right. Right now, I’m minding my gut. Something isn’t right.”

  “You’re creeping me out. Hell, you’re starting to sound like her.”

  “Yeah, well let’s hope I’m not any more psychic today than yesterday. I hope I’m just overreacting to that asshole giving out information that has nothing to do with the arrests we made last night. Maybe I need a good night’s sleep. I’m completely wrung out.”

  He put his hands over his face and scrubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes.

  “Shit.” Sam ran his hand through his hair, looking as frustrated and drained as Tyler felt.

  “My sentiments exactly.” Davies came up behind Sam. “Let’s move this into my office.”

  Once they closed the office door, all the men took a moment to gather their thoughts and mentally review the scene that had played out on the steps of city hall.

  Davies took the lead to get him and Sam back on track. “This case is officially closed. The press surrounding Morgan will die down. In the end, it isn’t a big deal that the FBI used a psychic to solve the case. The evidence will stand up in court. Period.

  “The press may have Tyler’s name, but they will not show his face on TV. His cover remains sound.

  “Tyler, I can see you’re upset about Detective Stewart showboating it today with the press and outing you and Morgan. In retrospect, I’m sure you’d agree there isn’t really any damage done, except that we looked like we couldn’t solve this case without using some rather extreme measures.”

  “Morgan isn’t an extreme measure. She’s come through for us on more than two dozen cases in the last year. She’s always accurate. She’s never let us down.”

  Not like he let her down. She’d come through for him so many times, both on a case and in his personal life. She’d saved his sister and he couldn’t do the one thing she’d asked of him.

  “She asked us not to use her name. Ever. End of story. I screwed up, and it’s cost us. She won’t help us again.”

  “What do you mean? No one could possibly find her with so little information to go on.”

  “We gave out her first name, the fact that I met her in Texas, that she’s a psychic, and she can name names. Granted, she only saw the men’s faces. If they weren’t such public figures, she wouldn’t have known most of their names. You and I both know she saw a lot more faces that she couldn’t identify. The press doesn’t know that though. They think she can simply name an offender in a case and we make the arrest. The implications of this go beyond the fact that we’ve lost Morgan, or that the press may or may not be able to find her.”

  Tyler was right, and Davies reluctantly admitted, “We’ve already started receiving phone calls from all kinds of people asking to talk to her. A number of law enforcement agencies submitted requests for her help on cold cases and missing persons cases. Then there are the nuts, calling for everything from asking her to help them get rid of a ghost to contacting aliens.”

  “You see. This is just the beginning.”

  “This will die down in a few days. The press will move on to another story and the fact that the FBI uses a psychic will be just another story in the trash pile.”

  “Used.”

  “Used? What?” Davies looked at Sam, who’d been sitting quietly watching Tyler out of the corner of his eye.

  “We used a psychic. She won’t help us again.”

  “Did she call you? Is she angry about her name going out to the press?”

  “She didn’t have to call me. I heard her loud and clear. Angry about the press conference, is a matter of opinion. The sound she made, well, it made me think she was more terrified than angry.”

  Tyler felt ragged and tired all the way to his bones. He slumped in the chair, wishing to go home, fall into bed, and bury himself under the covers.

  Davies sighed with frustration and confusion. “You aren’t making sense. Did you talk to her, or not?”

  “Nope. I just know.”

  Davies let go his frustration on a ragged sigh. “Sam, help me out here.”

  Sam leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs and faced Davies. “What my partner isn’t telling you is that he heard Morgan scream in his mind. The next thing I know he’s grabbing his head like he’d been shot, he’s bleeding from his nose and saying she’s gone. Gone, as in from his head. And apparently, from us.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” Tyler said and stared up to the ceiling. “Now he’ll have me seeing the mind-benders on a daily basis and riding a desk for the rest of my life. This day just keeps getting better.”

  “No one’s going to the mind-benders. Even the thought of seeing the agency shrink sends a chill up my spine.”

  Tyler agreed. They were always trying to get you to tell them about your feelings. He wasn’t about to dump his feelings on a stranger, who wanted to analyze everything from his upbringing to his choice of job and his need to control things.

  “So, you think she won’t help us again.”

  “No. I don’t. We . . . I gave her my word. She wanted to remain anonymous. Only the three of us know she worked with us. That is until I gave her name to those detectives. Stewart just wouldn’t bend on knowing where I got the amazingly accurate leads. I should have made something up. I should never have told them about her.”

  “Stewart should have kept his mouth shut,” Sam snapped.

  Tyler appreciated Sam’s anger.

  The door to the office opened and Agent Davies’s assistant peeked in. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed, but there’s a man on the line claiming to be Morgan’s father. He’s demanding to talk to Agent Reed. Do you want to take the call?”

  All three men stared at the woman standing in the doorway like she’d just announced the president was on the line. Actually, they wouldn’t have been this surprised to get a call from the president.

  Agent Davies recovered first. “We’ll take the call. What’s his name?”

  “He won’t give it. He’s extremely rude and agitated. The operator sent him to me when he refused to give any information. They thought he might give me a name if he felt like he’d get a chance to talk to Agent Reed. No such luck. He refused to speak to anyone but Agent Reed.”

  “Put him through. I’ll put him on speaker, if you don’t mind?” Davies asked Tyler. At Tyler’s acceptance, he opened the line to Morgan’s father.

  “This is Agent Reed. To whom am I speaking?”

  “I’ll tell you, you motherfucker, when you tell me where my daughter is. You can’t hide her from me. I have a right to know where she is.”

  Tyler wanted to follow his gut instinct and hang up and never accept another call from this guy again. He didn’t know who the guy was, but Tyler meant to keep him away from Morgan at all costs.

  “Well, now. With that kind of att
itude, you can bet your ass I won’t give you her location.”

  He wanted to know the guy’s name and how he fit into Morgan’s life. Why didn’t her father know where Morgan lived?

  “You better tell me, Reed. I’m her father and I demand to know where she is.”

  “How do I know you really are her father? What’s your name?”

  The man paused for a moment, telling Tyler without words he did have something to hide.

  “James Weston. Now, where’s my daughter.”

  “So Mr. Weston. You’re from Texas, right?” Tyler needed more than a name to run down information on the guy. He needed a place to start and a state would get him closer. He’d met Morgan in Texas, but neither she nor this guy had a Texas accent. Morgan’s sounded more East Coast. This guy’s was even more pronounced. Tyler imagined Morgan had lost part of her accent after leaving wherever she’d lived before Texas. He didn’t even know if she still lived there.

  “Morgan was born in West Virginia. I live in Niles now.”

  “Niles Canyon? You live here in California?”

  “I just said that. Now, tell me how to contact my daughter. Is she living in San Francisco? Maybe somewhere outside the city in the Bay Area?”

  Davies typed the pertinent information into his computer and waited while the search went through on James Weston of Niles, California. They’d know everything about him in a few short minutes.

  “We’ll get to that. I’m not convinced you are who you say you are. So, your daughter is Morgan Weston, huh?” Tyler hedged.

  “You and I both know she doesn’t go by Weston. Her mama kept her last name. It’s some kind of family tradition. My ass. I don’t know any women who wouldn’t take their husband’s name. Still, she wouldn’t marry me without keeping it. I loved her, so I let her have her way, that time.”

  As if she hadn’t had a say other times. Tyler found that an odd thing to say. Weston’s tone told him this man expected to get what he wanted without question. Apparently, he’d wanted Morgan’s mother, and he’d conceded the last name in order to have her. Probably the last thing Morgan’s mother ever got Weston to concede to her.