A Shadow on the Ground

by Smith, Rebecca Lee

  Light from the living room window spilled into the yard. Square shards of white and amber slashed across the grass. Morgan pushed her hair out of her eyes and placed one hand on the high windowsill. She rose up on her toes, keeping her face in the shadows, and peered into the room.

  Gage sat in the stuffed armchair beside the fireplace. His hands rested on the arms, and he stared straight ahead, exactly as Jeremy had described him. Morgan craned her neck.

  “Well, hey, Morgan,” Ethan said. “Come on in. Gage and I have been talking about you.”

  Thank God, Morgan thought. It was only Ethan. His leg must not have been hurt badly after all. But why hadn't he or Gage called an ambulance for Sean? They probably couldn't get through. It had happened to her grandpa once when he’d fallen off the harvesting machine and drug himself up to the house. Living in the sticks was like living in a third world country.

  She didn’t understand why Ethan and Gage were sitting in the house while Sean was outside hurt and bleeding? Why weren’t they trying to help him?

  Panic rose in her chest then settled into her abdomen, leaden and cold. Adrenaline gushed into her veins, urging her to turn her eyes away and run.

  And yet, she still refused to believe the worst.

  She stepped up on the porch as if she were moving through a dream, as if a power source she couldn’t fight was pulling her along, forcing her to fulfill her destiny. She glanced in the front window. Gage caught her eye and shook his head no.

  She hesitated.

  And tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

  The screen door screeched open. The shadow of a man slid across the floor. Ethan stood in the doorway, still holding Gage hostage with Cal’s gun.

  “Like I said, Morgana. Your friend and I have been talking about you. Of course, I've been doing most of the talking.” He smiled, still pointing the gun at Gage. “But I think all that's about to change.”

  Chapter 18

  Gage's heart dropped.

  The look on Morgan’s face was enough to send him flying across the room to her. But he didn’t dare move. Not yet. Not while the Hamster was pointing a loaded gun at his head. He gripped the chair until his fingers throbbed and tried to channel the fight energy coursing through his limbs. Focus! Focus, dammit! His need to protect her was threatening to eclipse the reasoning center of his brain. But getting himself blown away wouldn't do anybody any good. Least of all him.

  Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance? Why hadn’t she saved herself? Had she found Jeremy? Had she come back to tell him his son was still missing?

  If only he could turn back the clock. One hour. Two. How could he have put Jeremy and Morgan in so much danger? He’d always been good at reading people, a skill that had kept him breathing on more than one occasion. But he hadn’t seen this one coming. Ethan Spannagel had made him uneasy from the get go. Why hadn't he realized the man was a complete nutcase?

  “Ethan, I don't understand,” Morgan said. She sat on the piano bench, folded her hands in her lap, and glanced up at him as if they’d just sat down to tea. “Honey, what's going on?”

  She still trusted the bastard. Gage could see it on her face.

  Gage’s eyes darted between the two of them, waiting for the opportunity to make a move, not sure what the hell it was going to be. Ethan stepped back to relax the arm aiming the gun, and in that split second, Morgan’s gaze shot to the door, to the window, to Gage, then back to Ethan’s face. She doesn’t trust him at all. She’s as petrified as I am. Why should he be surprised she was a master at hiding her feelings? Hadn’t she done the same thing three days ago when she’d pulled into the driveway and found him standing on her porch like the Ghost of Christmas Past? She’d barely blinked an eye then, too.

  He looked at her, and his heart swelled with admiration. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she clasped them tightly, all the while looking at Ethan just as calm and cool as you please.

  Ethan steadied the gun. “Your boyfriend doesn't know what's going on either.”

  Morgan snorted. “He's not my boyfriend. If he were the last man on earth, he would not be my boyfriend. If he were the last living, breathing man walking upright in the universe, he would not be—”

  “I think he gets the picture,” Gage said. “And for the record, she’s not my girlfriend either. My girlfriend is short and cheerful and...blond.”

  “I don't believe either of you,” Ethan said.

  “By the way,” Gage said, “where's Jeremy? Still roaming the countryside? I can never get that boy to come home, even when it’s raining.” He tried to control the fear his voice. The only way he could get the upper hand was to follow Morgan’s lead and keep his emotions in check.

  Morgan’s eyes cut to him, then back to Ethan. “He was scared. I guess he went up Pip's Hill and doubled back to the orchard. Don’t worry, he’ll find his way home. He got that hiking merit badge in Scouts last year, remember?”

  Okay, Gage thought. Jeremy is not a Boy Scout; she's talking in code. Did she find him? Is that what she meant? He stared at her, willing her to understand he needed more information. Please, Morgan. I know you hate me. But let me know my boy's okay.

  “Jeremy's a great kid,” she said, still watching Ethan. “He's small for his age, but he's smart. And wherever he is, I'm sure he's fine.” She looked at Gage and held his gaze for a long moment. “He's just fine.”

  Relief washed over Gage. This time he could not mistake what she meant. Jeremy was fine. She had told him his son was fine.

  “Why do you care so much about this man’s kid?” Ethan snarled. “You said you didn't want kids.”

  “I said I couldn't have kids. I never said I didn't want them.”

  “Bullshit!” Ethan shook his head vigorously. “You'll say anything with him in the room.”

  “That's not true,” Morgan said.

  “Yes, it is.” Ethan’s hair fell across his wide forehead in long, unwashed strings. His pale white-blue eyes stared at Morgan like a drugged out gallery owner Gage had had under surveillance once. He didn't think drugs were Ethan's problem. Ethan's problem was he was bat shit crazy. And obsessed with the woman Gage loved.

  Gage turned his head. Pain ignited behind his eyes. He held his arms rigid and gripped the armrests, determined to stay conscious and concentrate. Passing out was not an option.

  If he could get Ethan to move to the left, so if Ethan fired the gun, the bullet would go past Gage’s head instead of through it, he might have a chance to subdue him. He didn't think Ethan would shoot Morgan. Not as much as he cared for her. But Gage couldn’t risk taking that chance. Not when someone's mind was as far gone as this dude's.

  Every plan Gage came up with had too many risks. At best, the situation was uncertain and volatile. At worst, he and Morgan could be blown across the room into next week.

  Gage lifted his head off the back of the chair. He tried to ignore the wet oozing behind his left ear and the sledgehammer pounding the back of his eyes every time he blinked. His stomach roiled with cheese grits and ribs. He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. Vomiting was not an option, either. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to position himself between Ethan and Morgan. As long as he could get there before the gun went off.

  There was always a catch.

  Ethan stared at her. “You want him. And if you say you don’t, you’re lying.”

  “I don’t lie,” Morgan said.

  Ethan circled the room and stood behind Gage. The cold muzzle of the gun touched the back of Gage’s neck. “Well, you’re lying now. You're pretending you're not together so I won't kill him. But you are together. I saw you tonight at Hog Heaven. You couldn’t keep your hands off him.”

  “You were there?” Her blue eyes widened in disbelief. “You followed us?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Ethan sneered. “The way you act around his kid. You wish his kid was your kid, because you can’t have any of your own.” He took a shaky ste
p toward her. “So, stop lying.”

  Morgan swallowed a gasp. Her back stiffened. Her fingers skimmed across the needlepoint seat cushion, then clutched the edge of the piano bench until her knuckles turned white. Sorrow settled in her eyes. Gage had never seen her look so sad, and he wanted to gather her in his arms and make it disappear. He worried that by spilling the beans she couldn’t have children, Ethan had hit a nerve so profound, she might fall apart. But instead, she lifted her chin and looked Ethan straight in the eye. When she spoke, the sudden appearance of her soft East Tennessee accent betrayed the blow she had been dealt. “Ethan, honey, you've been under a lot of stress since your father passed. But if somethin’ else is botherin’ you, then you need to let it all out and tell me what’s wrong. We're buddies, remember?”

  “I don't want to be your buddy. Don’t you understand? I want to be your—” Ethan’s face crumpled. “You used to love me, Morgan. Why don't you love me anymore?”

  “I do love you. You’re one of the dearest, sweetest people I know.”

  “Really?” Ethan said.

  “Well, how dear,” Gage said. “And how sweet. But I’m not sure how far that sentiment is gonna fly, once he shoots me in the face.”

  ****

  Morgan held on to the piano bench as if it were her salvation.

  Her eyes followed Ethan like a cornered cat. His gaze wandered to the mirror above the dining room sideboard. He scrutinized himself, then frowned, as if he recognized the man holding the gun but couldn’t quite put a name to the face. She’d stopped trying to talk to him. He didn’t want to talk to her. He wanted to get back at her.

  Like Gage had predicted, it had all come back to bite her on the ass.

  In the past, Morgan had relied on Ethan’s friendship. He’d always come through for her, never judged her mistakes, never let her down. He’d been a good friend, even though she’d taken him for granted. He’d hinted at his feelings, but she’d ignored them. Because as long as she ignored them, she didn’t have to face the fact that if she rejected him, he would not want her in his life. She’d been too selfish to let him go. Another mistake she was sorry for. It had been cruel to let him believe they might end up together someday when she knew in her heart that would never happen.

  And now, she could only pray that he loved her enough not to kill them all.

  She glanced at Gage.

  His steely gaze scanned the room. The knot in his jaw moved back and forth. She could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes, trying to anticipate Ethan's next move. His hands held onto the edge of the chair, the muscles tense and ready to catapult him across the room. He looked strong and formidable, but behind his head, an amoeba shaped bloodstain had spread across the blue slipcover, and when he turned his head to look at her, his face couldn’t hide the pain.

  She steered her gaze away from Gage and focused on Ethan.

  “Ethan, please,” she begged. “You and Sean have always been friends. He's lost a lot of blood. Please let me call an ambulance and get him some help. He's my brother.”

  Ethan laughed. “And you would do anything for your brother, right?” He shook his head. “Jesus, Morgan, you hate this farm. You loathe it. But when your brother asked you to stay, you stayed. No questions asked. See, I knew if Sean thought the farm was going under, he'd talk you into staying. Because you’re the strong one, and that’s what you do. When has your brother, or any of your family, been able to do anything without your help?”

  Morgan stared at him. “What do you mean Sean thought the farm was going under?”

  “Good question,” Gage said. “And I think I’ve got the answer. Ethan is the one who cooked the books, only in reverse. He made it look like the orchard was in financial trouble because he had a pretty good idea that Sean would convince you to stay and help get it back on its feet.” He looked at Ethan. “Am I on the right track?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Ethan said.

  “How could you do this?” Morgan said. “Sean’s been working sixteen hour days trying to save the orchard. He and your father did everything they could think of, called in every favor my grandfather had. And it was all a sham?”

  “I wouldn't have let it go on forever,” Ethan said. “I wanted to buy some time until I could convince you this is where you belong. Here. With me. We were starting to get close again. You felt it, too. I know you did. Until this...this jerk showed up with his kid. I tried to scare him away by shooting out his windshield, but the godammed jerk wouldn’t leave.”

  Morgan crossed her arms. “Yes, I think the word jerk is a very apt description.”

  “I tried to tell you tonight why I came here,” Gage said. “At the restaurant. But then we started dancing, and as the man waving the gun said, you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

  “Oh, please,” she said. “It was the other way round, and you know it. Don’t blame me because you didn’t have the balls to tell me you had a hidden agenda. God, I should have known better than to trust you. But you have this infuriating habit of showing up at the exact moment I need someone. I should have gone on pretending I didn’t remember you. And then, you made me believe you cared about me. ‘Oh, I'll help you, Morgan. I'll get your brother a lawyer. Never mind that I came here to steal the flag that could pay for that lawyer.’”

  Gage leaned back. “This may not be the best time to point out that if you cared as much about your brother as you say you do, the sale of that flag could have sustained the orchard.”

  She glared at him. “That's why you came back that night. Not to ask a favor for your son. Not to see me. But to steal the flag. You’d heard Sean was in jail. You thought I'd be at the sheriff station with him. You expected the house to be empty.”

  “I came back for Jeremy’s sake. And because I wanted to see you.” Gage pressed his hand against his head. “I needed to know you were real.”

  “I should have kicked you to the curb the day you got here. But I wanted so desperately to believe you.”

  “You can believe me. The moment I saw you again, I knew I could never take anything from you whether you stole it or not. Didn't I tell you to take the flag to the bank where it would be safe? Didn't I let Jeremy find you a buyer for it? Didn't I—”

  “Didn’t you what? Show up after twelve years and expect me to fall in love with you again? In all those years, did you ever look for me?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’re a private investigator, for Christ’s sake. And you never even looked for me.”

  Ethan slammed his fist against the upright piano. “Shut up!” he cried. Vibrating piano keys chimed beneath the mahogany lid. “Hasn’t anybody noticed I'm holding a gun on you?” He looked at Gage. “So, you’re the one.”

  “The one?” Gage asked.

  “The one who got her pregnant then dumped her. The one who broke her heart and screwed her head up for the rest of us.”

  Gage stared at Morgan. “You were pregnant?

  Morgan nodded slowly.

  “I didn't know,” he said hoarsely. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “What was I supposed to do? Show up on your doorstep holding a baby, in the snow, like the upstairs maid in a Victorian novel? You didn’t want me, remember?”

  “But I did want you,” Gage said. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. At twenty-two, I wasn’t strong enough to fight my father and Bert. I was too naïve to realize I could have been a good father to Jeremy without marrying his mother. I wanted to leave Suzanne as soon as Jeremy was born, but I couldn't walk away. Jeremy needed me. And I couldn't ask you to wait.”

  “You should have let me make that decision,” she said.

  Gage took a deep, ragged breath. “I have to ask you—the child. What happened to the—”

  “Denny threw her against a chair,” Ethan said flatly. “I was the first person she called.”

  “I had an ectopic pregnancy,” Morgan said. “My abdomen hit the back of the chair so hard, my fallopian tube ruptured. I would have lo
st the baby anyway.”

  “But can you still—”

  “Conceive? Yes, but since I only have one ovary and one fallopian tube, it will be twice as hard.”

  Gage’s eyes glistened. “Not such a bad thing, having to try twice as hard. It could be fun.”

  “I should have killed Denny then,” Ethan said. “I should have.” His focus was beginning to wander. “I should have gone to Atlanta, found Denny, and killed the bastard. But tonight, I finally did it. I smashed his head in, then pushed him into the kettle. It felt so damned good.” His eyes settled on her face. “I...I did it for you, Morgan. Everything I do is for you.” EhE

  He sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Why don't you love me?”

  “Ethan, I’m sorry,” she said.

  Ethan laughed. “She’s sorry. She’s sorry. All of this was for nothing—the orchard, Dad's death, Sean, Peach.”

  “What about Peach?” Morgan asked.

  “He started the fire at Bad Moon,” Gage said. “To get rid of Peach, right?”

  Ethan lowered the gun. “That slut was going to move in here and help Sean with the farm so you could leave again, Morgan. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to make sure you stayed here. With me.”

  Morgan shook her head. “And the fact that Peach swears she has a copy of Harlan’s will and you could lose a chunk of the estate if he named her as a beneficiary didn’t enter into it?”

  “How did you know about that?” Ethan asked.

  “I listened to the voicemails Peach left on your father’s cell phone,” Morgan said. “Peach thought he was going to leave her set for life. But she sounded unsure about it. I wonder if Sean warned Harlan about her. Your Dad and Sean were pretty close.”

  “Stop it!” Ethan spun around. For one terrifying moment, Morgan thought he was going slam the gun into Gage’s head.