She never saw Taran come up behind her or heard him leave in a hurry.
Samantha was once again in the driver’s seat getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, which was fair since Ethan was too fucking pissed to drive safely.
All around them, firefighters lingered, but the last of the embers had been doused and there was no longer concern of the fire jumping to other buildings. Plus, it had begun to rain.
Ordinarily, Ethan didn’t mind the rain. Today rain reminded him of tears, Morgan’s tears. In his heart, he knew she was crying right now.
“Sam, I can’t leave,” he said.
“We have to,” Sam stated. “Captain’s expecting us in thirty minutes.”
“Morrison can wait. I need to talk to Morgan.”
“Yes, but I told you she said she was sorry. Call her while we’re in route. What the fuck is he doing?” Sam demanded, slamming on the brakes.
A heavy thud brought Ethan’s head around. Taran stood in front of the car, preventing them from pulling onto the narrow street. He walked around to Ethan’s side, rapped his fist on the window and waited until Ethan put the window down.
“Taran, we don’t have time for trouble right now.”
“Not here to cause trouble, Ethan. You’re to get your ass inside that diner and comfort your woman. She’s fucking crying, you prick!”
Ethan barely managed to open the car door before his little brother wrenched the thing open wide enough to threaten the solid hinges. “Easy, bro, I’m going, I’m going!”
“Hurry,” Taran urged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Everything’s gone up in flames around her and she’s worried about pissing you off. Take care of her or so help me God, I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass, you’ll walk funny for the next millennium.”
Taran could save the butt kicking for another day. It was a sure bet they’d get into it if Ethan stayed and he couldn’t risk it. Not when Morgan was crying.
Rushing off to the diner, he made his way inside, didn’t immediately see her and paused to look around.
“She’s in Cassie’s office,” Alex called out from the kitchen.
Ethan found Morgan huddled in a chair, crying loud enough to be heard in the bookstore. He didn’t hesitate to go to her, bring her out of the chair and take her into his arms.
Nothing mattered right then. Not the case, the fire, where they were or who might see them, nothing except soothing his lady.
“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. I’m sorry,” he murmured, carrying her around until he could sit on the desk with Morgan across his lap. “Just cry it out, I’ve got you.”
“I…thought I’d lost you,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard over the tears. She hiccupped and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
“You can’t do that, Morgan. Nothing can make me walk away from you.”
“I was an idiot.”
“You lashed out because you were hurting and I lashed back. I made you cry, for that I might let Taran kick my ass later.” Holding her tighter, he hoped his strength would give her the push she needed to look up.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t blame sex as the reason for the fire or why Grandma isn’t here.”
“I know. This is a fucked-up situation. If I could change it, I would. The only thing I can do is catch the sonofabitch and lock them up. It might take hours or all night or a couple of days. I’m not going to rest until it’s done.”
“Is this your way of saying you may not come home tonight?” Morgan uttered with a little more oomph.
“I’m going to try. Unfortunately, that’s all I can promise. With my job, there will be interruptions, endless hours of overtime and sleepless nights, but at the end of a case or workday, it’s you I will always come home to. Even if it means all we do is sleep for a few days until I can make love to you.”
“Even when we have a fight?” she asked.
“Especially then, Morgan,” he said. “It takes communication and commitment to make a relationship work. I’m in for the long haul, thought you knew that.”
“I’m not going anywhere either. I’m feeling sorry for myself.” Stronger now, her tears lessened and he was able to get her to lift her head. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was running.
Ethan didn’t fucking care. She was the woman he loved. It was his honor to make sure she knew that. Gently, he touched her cheek and wiped away the tears. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to go? If you need me here, I’m here.”
“You need to find this fucker and stop them before they start another fire or go too far and someone is killed.”
“We might have a female perp. Hope to God we’re wrong, because something isn’t right in the Bailey-Andrews families. I aim to find out every dirty little secret they’ve been hiding for years.”
“Be safe, please, Ethan,” Morgan insisted.
“I will, honey. Don’t worry. Sam’s got my back. I’ve got hers. We’re a good team.”
“Yes you are.” Morgan drew back and scrambled off his lap. “Go on. I can handle the insurance stuff.”
“I’ll call when I know more.” Ethan stood, stretched and gave her one more hug before he left. “Kiss me?”
“You bet,” she said with the slightest smile returning.
She was still hurting. At least he wasn’t the cause anymore. She went up on her toes, kissed him sweetly and stepped back. He’d have liked to linger, but time wouldn’t permit it.
A year might not be long enough to completely erase the sadness he saw in her eyes. Walking away, he glanced back as she knelt to pick up her phone. Alex came waltzing in as though he owned the place.
Okay, so the guy sort of did own Book Haven Diner. “Take care of her for me, Alex.”
“Got it covered,” Alex said. “She’s not going anywhere without me or your pigheaded brother.”
“Pigheaded as he is, he’s a peacemaker.”
“So I saw,” Alex remarked. “Go.”
Ethan left, wishing he didn’t have to. A lot of shit was about to hit the fan once he and Sam went into the precinct and tore into this case to find the ammunition they needed for a search warrant.
It was time to find out who set the fires at Druid Creek Castle and Enchanted Treasures, see how they tied into Jenna Bailey’s disappearance and murder and close this case once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
Morgan was shaky by the time she finally managed to get through to her insurance company. Thankfully, Alex stood by her the whole time.
It was a relief to have him as a friend. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan.
She was glad they’d kissed and made up. Yet something still felt off. Not with their relationship, but she knew that the shaking wasn’t just because of a messed-up day or the fire.
Plus, she had the first stirrings of a headache. It’d been awhile since she’d felt one. But she’d long since realized that headaches forewarned a vision. The intense migraine part hit her after the vision and wiped her out for two days.
Hoping that maybe the headache was a result of tension, Morgan pushed through it by rummaging through Cassie’s desk for a couple of Tylenol.
“Morgan, what’s going on?” Alex asked, remaining in tune with her.
“Nothing, Alex, I’m feeling a tension headache or something.”
“I’ll get you some water to take those pills.” He went off to the diner in a hurry.
She’d hung up with the adjuster who was supposed to come out to the site in an hour, take pictures and make a report. In the meantime, she had to provide a list of what was lost.
How did one summarize the loss of Grandma’s home and Morgan’s business? She could certainly run off a copy of her inventory. Cassie’s computer had internet and Morgan had set up an online backup file program awhile ago. It was simply a matter of going online, entering her password and hitting print.
Retrieving the inventory list from the printer was easier said than done. The longer Morgan st
ood there, the stronger her headache was getting.
When Alex returned, he had a bottle of water in one hand and his cellphone in the other. “Yeah, I’m worried, Doc. She’s looking pale. Will Tylenol help? Okay. See you soon.”
“You called Ryan?” she asked, taking the water gratefully.
“He’s the best doctor I know. Take a seat before you pass out on me.”
She shook her head. She didn’t think she was at the point of fainting.
“How about lying down for a little bit?” Alex suggested. “There’s a big bed in Phalen’s old apartment. Everything’s still made up.”
Morgan thought maybe she’d do that. She took the pills, washed them down with water and capped the bottle. “Thanks, Alex. Tell Ryan not to worry. I’ll go nap. Wake me when the insurance guy gets here.”
“Forget about him. I’ll walk you over. The last time a Maddox woman left my sight, she ended up getting hurt. That happens again, I’m a dead man walking.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear that. I’m still coming with you.”
Alex made good on his promise. By the time they got to the diner, the smell of all the food, coupled with a fryer, burgers, meatloaf, roast turkey and coffee did really bad things to her stomach. The smell of meat usually didn’t bother her this much.
Taran met them halfway across the diner. “Where y’all going?” he asked.
“Over to Phalen’s apartment. Morgan’s going to rest until Ryan gets here and checks her out,” Alex answered.
“You’re sick?” Taran paled. “Shit.”
“I’m not sick. Mild headache, nothing to freak out over,” Morgan said.
“Is it one of your mojo headaches that put you out of commission for a couple of days afterward?” Taran demanded, albeit softly.
“Not really sure,” she answered.
“That does it. I’ve got the keys for Phalen’s place.” Taran took them out of his pocket and handed them over to Alex. “Let’s get her comfortable, bro.”
“You don’t have to go too,” Morgan told him.
“Yes, I really do. Ethan put me in charge, sis.”
“Same here,” Alex added.
Morgan rolled her eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in her head as a result. To avoid a hassle no one needed, she welcomed the male attention. Two gorgeous hunks tucking her in wasn’t a bad thing at all.
Taran and Alex wasted no time in getting her out of the diner and over to Phalen’s apartment. They climbed up some stairs. Alex opened the door. Taran helped her through.
Morgan finally made it to the bed, kicked off her boots and crawled under a cozy down comforter. “This is really nice,” she said quietly, sighing because it did feel good. “If Ethan calls or texts, let me know. The insurance guy can wait.”
“Told you to forget about him for now, I’ll handle it,” Alex said. “Rest and get better.”
“I could always go to my apartment. I need to run over there and check my plants, start my car. The thing hasn’t moved in two weeks.”
“When you’re feeling better, we’ll walk over there together,” Taran promised. “If you need to sleep longer, I’ll go myself.”
“Not sure if I have my keys. Remy has my spares.”
“Don’t worry. Sleep, woman. That’s an order,” Taran stated with a quiet authority that brooked no argument.
Morgan closed her eyes. This bed was enormous. The cover was decadent and the right prescription for a morning from hell.
* * * * *
Sam and Ethan walked into the squad room, sat down at their desks and went to work. While Sam began an extensive background search on the Andrews family and orchard, Ethan combed through files on Spencer Bailey and Erica White.
The Bailey family had ties to Boston and New York City. Spencer’s father, a graduate of Harvard, purchased commercial property in Boston’s Seaport district. That purchase laid the foundation for Spencer’s eventual partnership with Bartholomew Stratham.
Nothing in Ethan’s findings indicated that Bartholomew Stratham was anything other than a born-and-bred Bostonian billionaire whose great-great-grandparents originally came to Massachusetts before the American Revolution. Stratham was a widower with one child, Evelyn, who was raised to take over the business.
Ethan didn’t delve further into Eve’s history. Spencer Bailey and his connection to Erica White were his primary concern. The further he delved into files and worked background checks with a skill that rivaled his partner’s, the more he discovered long-buried secrets.
Along with his brothers, Spencer attended Harvard Business School. His cousins preferred Harvard Law School. One of Spencer’s cousins, Dylan Bailey, tried to run for political office in Massachusetts, failed and later opened a law firm concentrating on civil court cases. A brother became a Wall Street executive.
The Baileys were well known in Manhattan because Spencer’s grandfather’s father had been a Robber Baron. With the money made from industry, he bought a skyscraper and turned it into a multimillion-dollar landmark, doing the same with several other buildings.
What Ethan and Samantha hadn’t known previously was that Erica’s father, George Barnes, worked as a security guard in one of the Bailey-owned NYC high-rises and a bank on the ground floor was robbed. George was accused of aiding the thieves because he’d been on duty.
Despite claims that he’d been patrolling another floor at the time of the robbery, George was fired, arrested, put on trial and found guilty of aiding and abetting. Erica’s parents ended up divorced, broke and shattered, with her father becoming homeless after getting out of jail and freezing to death in a back alley.
Erica’s mother abandoned her as soon as her father went to jail and the girl was forced to raise herself, living her teen years in and out of foster homes and finally marrying Maurice White when she was seventeen.
Back then, Maurice was running a psychic medium scam, got caught and pled guilty. They’d divorced when she was nineteen. Ethan grimaced. Along with giving Jenna Bailey peace of mind on the other side, he sure hoped he and Sam would be able to do that for Erica White.
Ethan continued to delve. Background checks wouldn’t confirm what he suspected, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some calls to the NYC detectives who’d worked on Erica White’s missing person’s case.
After two hours of conversations with NYPD brass and a federal judge, Ethan learned that the primary accuser against George had been Spencer Bailey, who’d been an intern at the time and professed to be working late in his office that evening. George tried to prove his innocence by claiming he’d seen Spencer with a young girl.
Naturally, Spencer insisted that the woman had been his college girlfriend, who’d come to visit him, and he’d wanted to show off his office digs. Maura Andrews later verified his story on record.
Maura Andrews?
“Fucking hell, Maura Andrews, Alisa’s sister who runs the orchard, was involved with Spencer Bailey. Bet that made for some interesting family dinners over the holidays,” Ethan said to Sam, who had to stop typing furiously on her keyboard and look up.
“What’s that, Ethan?”
“Maura Andrews was involved with Spencer Bailey. I read the transcriptions from George Barnes’ trial. Maura is Alisa’s sister.”
Sam did one of her tricks with the computer, made a couple notations on a pad of paper and shouted, “Eureka!” when she hit something important.
“According to what I found out about the Andrews family, Maura was a straight A student through school and college. She’d been accepted into Harvard Business School, where she must have met Spencer. They graduated the same year.”
“Nothing about Spencer and Maura being involved?”
“Not a peep. Get this, Patrick and Melissa Andrews, Maura and Alisa’s parents, have been paying private practice psychiatrists and family therapists since the girls were teenagers. There’s also a juvenile file on Maura that we can’t have access to without a judge’s pe
rmission.”
“How much you want to bet there’s a history of fire setting in her background?”
“Think there’s a good chance,” his partner said. “We’ll have to present this to the captain and see if we can get a judge to open that file for us.”
“If Maura was a graduate of Harvard, why the hell’s she hiding out at an apple farm? Where are the parents?”
Sam tapped some keys and read her computer screen, shaking her head. “They spend winters in Miami, summers they occasionally return to Massachusetts. Holidays are spent abroad, touring Europe and fancy cruises through the Mediterranean.”
“That’s fucked up, Sam. Thought they were nearly destitute until…Spencer Bailey married Alisa, saving them and supporting them at the same time,” Ethan speculated.
“Sure enough, that could have left both daughters with emotional or abandonment issues. Maura might well be a scholar. That doesn’t mean she has social skills. The question should be why did Spencer marry Alisa? Why not marry Maura?”
“I don’t know. I suspect that their love affair is far from over and Alisa is merely a pawn. Always did like Alisa, she seemed genuine, a bit naïve perhaps, but she was devastated when Jenna went missing. Now she seems so broken.”
“I’d like to see if we can talk to Alisa one on one. Hopefully she’ll open up and tell us what she knows about her husband.”
“I’ll call her and see if she’d mind coming down to the station and talking to us about her sister.”
“Let me give her a call, Ethan. I suspect Alisa is a bit of a yes-sir, no-sir kind of person. If she thinks she’s protecting her husband and sister, she may be intimidated by an Alpha male.”
Ethan smiled. “I know how to tone down the Alpha speech. And I’m way more than a top dog, partner. Alpha doesn’t mean Dom, you know?”
“So I’ve figured out a long time ago. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Sam teased. “Anyway, I’ll call her and head over to the computer lab to do some facial recognition work on that video feed from NYPD. It’s the only thing I have that may put Maura Andrews at the scene of where Erica White was last seen alive.”
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