Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

  Severe pain shook Morgan to her core, making it difficult to find her night vision. Thinking she was heading for the door, she’d gone about two steps before colliding with something hard.

  The door creaked open. Someone had entered the bathroom, bright lights flashed and her migraine loomed harsher than before, blinding her before she could get a bearing on where she was or what was happening.

  “Hello? Mrs. Bailey? Is that you?” A hand came out of the light, grabbing her hair, pulling hard.

  Morgan yelped and tried to scream. Something hard and heavy smashed into her skull. Wetness trickled over her face. Helpless against colliding with the floor, she tried to break her fall.

  Caving in to the darkness that’d suddenly consumed her, she was vaguely aware of the scent of smoke.

  An alarm went off, deafening in its intensity. Rain poured down, soaking her. And then there was nothing but silence.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan reached Druid Creek Castle at breakneck speed. He didn’t recall driving, traffic or turning off the engine when he arrived or exiting his vehicle.

  His only thought was to get inside the building when he saw two massive fire trucks in the parking lot. Customers were standing outside of the castle pointing and talking as firemen went in and out of the front entrance.

  A quick assessment of the scene revealed that no one was panicked. Flames weren’t shooting out of the building. No one looked hurt or screamed for help.

  What scared him the most was the ambulance that’d arrived with sirens and lights flashing seconds behind him and headed around to the back parking lot.

  All hell had broken loose while he was having a tantrum because his woman dared go out with someone else. All he knew right then was that she’d called and she’d been in pain. That’s all he needed to know to haul ass to Danvers and help her.

  Seeing Remy Sinclair standing off to the side of the main door, Ethan headed toward the other man. Morgan wasn’t with her date!

  Angry and scared, Ethan took out his badge, flashed it as if he had every right to be there and rushed to confront Sinclair.

  “Dammit, she’s down there. Let me back inside so I can find her!” Remington Sinclair screamed at someone inside.

  “Sinclair, you’d better not be referring to my woman. Where’s Morgan?” Ethan demanded.

  Remy turned and faced him, unafraid to look him in the eye, but something was off.

  “She went downstairs to call you and do an EVP session. She was gone awhile so I’d thought it was going well and made a dash to my car to get a spirit box. When I went back inside, Alex Grant and I had started talking when the fire alarms went off downstairs and we smelled smoke.”

  “You trying to tell me Morgan’s somewhere in that fire?” Panic damn near made him smash Remy’s nose in.

  “Sprinkler system kicked in downstairs. Fire’s out. Grant pushed me out the door and went to the basement to make sure all the customers got out through the fire exits in the back. He hasn’t returned.”

  “Stay here and stay put. So help me God, if something happened to Morgan, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  “I would never let anything happen to her, Detective Maddox. I certainly never thought a phone call would cause such trouble.” Remy ignored Ethan’s orders and rushed inside with him.

  “What happened, your psychic sense didn’t forewarn of danger?” Ethan challenged.

  “I’m open-minded, but I’m not psychic the way Morgan is. Something was going on here and she followed her gut.”

  Inside the building, the smell of a doused campfire permeated everything. Some of Druid Creek Castle’s staff and waiters were outside the front entrance waiting for the fire department to give the all-clear.

  Voices came from the grand staircase that led to the ground floor. Rushing down the stairs as soon as he knew it was safe to do so, Ethan drew up short at the sight of Alex kneeling over Morgan, who was soaking wet and not moving.

  “Alex!” Ethan shouted, rushing across the floor, ignoring all except his woman lying there on the floor bleeding.

  Blood covered her face, mixing into her beautiful hair. Her eyes were closed.

  Alex turned at the sound of Ethan’s voice. His face was pale as a ghost. His concern was as frightening as Morgan’s silence. “Get your ass over here and work your magic on her, Ethan, now!”

  Sinking to the floor, Ethan gently touched Morgan’s face to swipe her wet hair back. She had a nasty gash on her forehead. Water made the trickle of blood worse.

  “Morgan, sweetie, I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered soothingly.

  He wasn’t a medic, but he knew better than to move her until the EMTs got there. That didn’t stop him from continuing to wipe the blood from her face.

  “Get me a towel and something warm and dry. She’s soaked,” he ordered, not sure if he spoke to Alex or Remy, who’d knelt beside them. “Come on, baby. Open your eyes. I’m here. See?”

  A soft, pained moan came from her lips as she came around. Gingerly, she turned her face into his hand. “Ethan?”

  “Yeah, open your eyes. Please.”

  “Don’t want to. Hurts. Head hurts.”

  “I know.” Someone brought a blanket over and handed it to Ethan.

  “Got this from the storage closet on this floor,” Alex explained. “I also brought a washcloth.”

  Grateful, Ethan covered Morgan and tucked it around her shoulders and arms, then continued to wipe at her face with the cloth.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan, so very sorry for hurting you,” she uttered. “Everyone leaves me. If you do, it’ll kill me. Please don’t leave.”

  “Shush now, honey. I’m not leaving, don’t worry about that.”

  “Sir, if you’d scoot back, I can take a look at her.” An EMT had arrived, moving in to assist.

  “Not going anywhere, sorry.” Ethan refused to budge. Morgan didn’t open her eyes. “She suffers from migraines. She called and said her head was hurting.”

  The EMT set to work, his attention on Morgan. He was extremely gentle when he checked her eyes and the nasty gash on her forehead just above her widow’s peak.

  Even the quickest flash of light in her eyes caused Morgan to cry out. Ethan steadied her by leaning in and squeezing her hand. “Let him check you, honey. He’s not trying to hurt you.”

  She settled at the sound of his voice and closeness. Ethan wanted to cover her with his warmth. Despite the blanket, she was chilled to the bone.

  “Can anyone tell me what happened?” the EMT asked as he proceeded to take her vitals and placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth on the chance she’d had smoke inhalation.

  “Not sure,” Alex answered very softly. “I came downstairs when the fire alarms went off and saw water trickling out of the bathroom. Sprinkler had gone off so I figured the fire must have been confined in there. I found her on the floor in the ladies room. There was blood on the sink, smoke everywhere but no flames.”

  “Trashcan fire,” someone said behind them. Ethan looked back. Recognizing the fireman’s garb as the chief, he didn’t interrupt. “It was enough to set off the alarms and sprinkler, but wasn’t a threat to the building. When the lady can speak, I’d like to ask her why she was smoking when it’s forbidden.”

  “She doesn’t smoke,” Ethan stated.

  “Someone did,” the chief replied. “Found a cigarette in the can.”

  “Doesn’t mean she did,” Alex interrupted. “Anyone from the bar could have gone into the ladies room to smoke. Common problem with a place like this, I’m just glad the sprinkler system worked the way it’s supposed to.”

  “No,” Morgan said so softly only Ethan heard her. She struggled to remove the mask, managing only to move it slightly to the side.

  “Easy,” Ethan murmured, staying very close.

  “Tried to kill me,” she whispered.

  “Who tried to kill you?” Thinking she was confused, Ethan drew back to study her face. Despite the ox
ygen mask and the blood, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Jenna’s killer,” she maintained, opening her eyes only to squeeze them shut and speaking so softly the sound barely registered. As it was, Ethan had to lean very close to hear her. “I didn’t start the fire. I think he did it. She must have told him about our conversation in the ladies room.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Morgan. Settle back down, please.” She grumbled, tossing her head. Ethan and the EMT gently urged her to stay still and let the oxygen do its thing.

  After a few minutes, she calmed down and no longer seemed distressed. When she breathed evenly, she shifted her face enough to speak to Ethan exclusively.

  “Please believe me, Ethan, you have to help Jenna. I have proof if you need it!” With strength that took him by surprise, she shot upward. “My recorder! Where’s Remy?”

  “I’m here, love,” Remy answered. “I’m listening, but you need to listen to the EMT there, okay?”

  Ethan lifted his eyes. “Call her love again, I will not be responsible for what happens to you, got it?”

  “Sorry, man,” Remy apologized.

  “Remy, get my voice recorder,” Morgan insisted, loud enough to make herself heard over the plastic mask muffling sound.

  “Where is it, Morgan?”

  “Restroom,” she answered.

  Remy stood up. The fire chief stepped in front of him. “Sorry, can’t let you go in there. Fire inspector can take a look when he gets here. Only thing I found in there was a cellphone on the floor where the lady was found. She’s real lucky the smoke was minor and the fire doused quickly.”

  “I need my recorder. EVPs are on it,” Morgan insisted. Opening her eyes again, she grabbed Ethan’s arm. It must have hurt for her to do it, but she gripped so hard she left a mark. “Find it, Ethan. Jenna spoke to me.”

  “Jenna who?”

  “Bailey, she doesn’t like being called Jennifer,” Morgan answered, being careful to confide only in him. “Erica White was right. Terrence Mills didn’t kill her.”

  “Honey, what you’re saying’s impossible,” Ethan said, confused and unaware that he’d spoken louder than he’d intended. “How can you even know about Erica White or Terrence Mills?”

  “I may be of help, Chief Winslow, Detective Maddox,” a woman said, interrupting Morgan before she could speak again.

  Ethan looked up to see Alisa Bailey standing with the fire chief. As beautiful as ever, Alisa looked terribly sad.

  He didn’t blame her. A parent shouldn’t have to bury her only child. Knowing Terrence Mills had gotten a hold of Jennifer Bailey in order to sell her at auction to become some fucker’s sex slave still made Ethan sick to his stomach.

  Seven other teenaged girls who’d been reported missing or ran away from broken homes were found with Jennifer. All lured by the promise of a boy they’d met on the internet, one who gained their confidence. All executed and torched because Terrence panicked when the authorities gathered the necessary warrants and went to arrest him.

  Mills was paying for his crimes. But Ethan and Sam had failed. They’d failed Jennifer because they’d followed Alisa Bailey’s spiritual advisor’s insistence that Jennifer’s stepfather had been responsible for her death.

  “Mrs. Bailey,” Ethan greeted softly, being careful not to move Morgan.

  “Ms. Everhart couldn’t have started a fire,” Mrs. Bailey admitted. “She complained of a headache. I think it must have made her say crazy things. I’m sure she didn’t mean them. She didn’t have cigarettes with her that I could see.”

  “Didn’t mean to upset Alisa,” Morgan muttered. “I saw her, Ethan. I spoke to Jenna. She’ll not rest in peace until you expose her stepfather.”

  “Morgan, stop, you can’t make accusations such as that,” Ethan warned softly.

  “You don’t believe I’ve spoken to Jenna,” Morgan said.

  “I believe that you believe it. I believe someone hurt you. On the chance that that person’s still near, we can’t talk about this here. You’re confused, sweetie, and hurting.”

  “For once, I’d like you to support me. Guess that’s too much to ask.” Morgan turned her face away from his hand. He’d been stroking her hair back behind her ear while the EMT placed a bandage on the wound.

  “Does she need stitches?” Ethan asked the man.

  “Probably a few, but the wound isn’t terribly deep,” the medic said. “I’d recommend getting her to the ER. She could have a concussion or go into shock. I checked her lungs and they sound clear, but I’m keeping that oxygen mask on her until a doctor tells me otherwise.”

  “Please don’t make me go to the hospital unless it’s necessary.” Morgan spoke quietly to the EMT, doing her best to ignore Ethan, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Seeing her deflate because of his doubt, Ethan had to take a chance. Morgan believed what she’d said. Ethan didn’t know what to believe, but to push it aside because he didn’t understand wasn’t fair to her.

  “Alex? How fast can Ryan get here?” Ethan asked.

  “He’s already on his way. Maybe five minutes, tops,” Alex answered.

  “Dr. Ryan Hathaway can take care of Ms. Everhart,” Ethan told the EMT. “If he thinks she’s got a concussion, I’ll take her wherever he recommends.”

  “Not you,” Morgan hissed with more venom than Ethan expected. She looked so sad and lost and uncertain, the pain and the blood on her face and in her hair making everything that much worse.

  “Try to see if you can stop me.” Keeping an eye on Alisa Bailey, he leaned in close to Morgan. “Hush now, honey, I want to hear what you have to say. I can’t if you’re in danger and Jenna’s mother is standing there watching. I failed that woman. I can’t fail you. Understand?”

  Carefully, he touched his hand to her temple, keeping her focused on him. Morgan’s gaze, though glazed with discomfort, held his. For a moment he was lost in her.

  Then she began to struggle and he refused to let her win. “You didn’t fail, Ethan. Jenna’s stepfather killed her. If I can find Erica White, I plan to prove it. Then I’m going to nail that asshole to the fucking wall.”

  “You’re not to do anything, you hear me? You’re going to have to trust me and let me do my job.”

  He didn’t know why or how it happened, but right then and there he believed Morgan. If there was one shred of evidence out there that would expose Bailey for what he’d done, he’d find it.

  “So now you want to play hero, Detective? What’s changed in two minutes? Hoping to get laid? Can’t, got a headache.”

  “I’m not a hero, but I am your man, Morgan Everhart. That means I support you in all things, even those I don’t understand. Don’t shut me out because I’m a stubborn sonofabitch, okay?”

  She held still for a moment longer. Ethan held his breath, waiting for her decision. Ultimately, she inclined her head once and closed her eyes, settling down so that her head landed right on his lap.

  “Ethan, Ryan’s here,” Alex interrupted. “Sit back.”

  “I’m staying right here,” Ethan answered. “Where’d Mrs. Bailey go?”

  “Fire chief took her outside,” Remy told him. “Detective Maddox, I’m sorry about all this. I swear Morgan was fine when she came down here. A little agitated by the activity in this place, but that’s par for the course. She’s used to it.”

  “What are you saying, Sinclair?”

  “Morgan was down here a long time. EVP sessions can take hours. Ghosts don’t run on our schedule or timeline. To manifest, they draw on energy. I suspect Morgan offered hers and the battery on her cell is probably dead.”

  “Lights were blown in the ladies room,” Alex said.

  “I’d try to find that digital voice recorder. I know she had it with her when she left the table. I saw it. Now it’s gone. Who has it? Why set a trashcan on fire?” Remy’s challenge was the push Ethan needed to see things through Morgan’s eyes. “Someone went through a great deal of trouble to ke
ep her quiet, don’t you think?”

  “Morgan certainly wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the safety of others,” Ethan agreed, easing back enough for Ryan Hathaway to move in.

  The EMT backed away, standing close enough to lend a hand if the doctor needed him. Ryan had a medical bag with him and set to work with the efficiency of a man very comfortable dealing with patients.

  The fire chief had already given the all clear for the building, allowing the crowd to come and get their belongings. Some of the staff returned to their posts, taking care of those who’d been in the bar and the backroom.

  Ryan spoke in quiet, confident tones, finding answers with the barest of nods from Morgan or simple yesses and nos. In a few minutes, he’d redressed the bandage on her forehead, found a soft icepack from his kit and pressed it to the nasty black and blue swelling that’d risen on her forehead and removed the oxygen mask.

  “Morgan, sweetheart, are you allergic to penicillin or any painkillers?” Ryan asked softly.

  “No, nothing,” she told him. “Hurts, head to toe.”

  “I’m sure it does. I’m going to give you a couple shots. The painkiller might make you sleep. Due to the head injury, I’ll have to rouse you from time to time.”

  “Do I have to go to the ER?”

  “I’d like to get some x-rays to be sure you’ve no skull fractures. I’m on staff at North Shore Medical Center already and a colleague of mine is working the ER tonight. How about I call my nurse and radiologist to meet us there?”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “I’m coming with her, Doc,” Ethan stated, relieved to know that Dr. Ryan Hathaway, an orthopedic surgeon with his own practice in Danvers, was also on staff at the local hospital and had friends in high places.

  “She needs to be changed into something warm and dry,” Ryan stated. “Once she’s ready, the EMT can get his stretcher.”

  “On it,” Alex said. “I’ll run up to our apartment and grab some sweats and a tee shirt.”

  Alex rushed off. “Remy, come with me. On the chance the inspector doesn’t find that recorder, I want to know what it is, how it works and what it all means.”