Fire Storm

by Marlow Kelly

  She’d watched him while he talked to the store owners who made up his client list. To them he was charming, professional, and gracious. He even helped one elderly man unload a large delivery of feed, hoisting the oversized bags as if they weighed nothing.

  It would be easy to believe he was a handsome, amiable businessman if she didn’t know better. In their clash this morning, he’d been hard, uncompromising, his cold eyes glittering with barely contained rage. That was the real Timothy Morgan.

  Dana approached him as he walked across the parking lot, raising her hands away from her sides so he knew she wouldn’t go for her weapon.

  The idea behind her trailing him was to unnerve him, force him to make a mistake, but it didn’t seem to be working. If anything, the opposite was true. She was the one who was unsettled. The confrontation on the Hopefalls Highway had brought up memories she would rather leave buried. He obviously had no intention of hurting her since he could easily have killed her after he’d snatched her gun. It was time to try a different approach. Besides, sometimes you had to use a little sugar to get what you wanted.

  “That was a neat trick with the gun. Where’d you learn that?” She stopped in front of the driver’s door so he couldn’t get in his truck without forcing her out of the way.

  He didn’t face her. Instead, he turned to face the store and slanted his gaze in her direction. “I told you I was a Ranger.”

  “So, Morgan, how long have you been a salesman for Tillman’s?” She rested against the door, getting comfortable.

  “You can call me Mr. Morgan, Timothy, or Tim, not Morgan. And I’ve worked for them for three years.” He marched to the passenger side, reached through the open window, grabbed his black cowboy hat, and put it on.

  “Do you like it?” Her gaze met his as he walked back to join her. His eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat, now looked green instead of gold. A quiver of awareness scattered down her spine as her body reacted to him. It was a warning. Her attraction to him was inappropriate, and yet she couldn’t seem to control it.

  “What’s not to like? It’s a comfortable hat.” The lines around his mouth deepened as he grinned.

  He’d been deliberately obtuse just to goad her. “I meant the job.” She squinted against the bright afternoon sun, her head throbbing. She needed food and drink. That was why she was responding to him physically. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with dehydration.

  “I get to drive through Montana, which I love. I talk to people about their store or farm. I sell a good product, and most of my customers are happy.” He seemed comfortable with this line of questioning.

  “And you claim to make a living doing this?” She allowed her skepticism to show. His job could easily be a front for a drug operation.

  “I do okay. I’ll never get rich, but I’ve built a decent customer base. It was slow at first. Organic eggs and chicken is a growing market. It’s something people want on their supermarket shelves.” He stood next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Okay, your turn. How long have you been a police officer?”

  She allowed him to change the subject, lulling him into the idea they were having a simple conversation.

  “Twelve years, including six years as a detective in Spokane.” She hooked her thumbs onto her belt. She wanted him to know he wasn’t dealing with some country bumpkin with no experience.

  “A detective?” His voice had risen.

  “Yep.” She’d shocked him. Good.

  “What the hell are you doing working for an idiot like Booley? Everyone knows he’s only ever worked in Hopefalls.”

  “Logan needed a change and my grandmother left me a house in town. The rent-free accommodation more than made up for the drop in salary.” Too late she snapped her mouth shut. She’d revealed her situation without thinking, blurting out the words. What was wrong with her? She’d never let her guard down with a suspect—ever.

  “Does Booley know?”

  “About what?”

  He pointed to the SIG Sauer at her side. “Your little problem.”

  She had overreacted this morning and given herself away. She glanced at him and then shifted her gaze to the endless prairie. He’d obviously guessed she’d experienced some kind of trauma. He could have Googled her while she was following or maybe it was just instinct. “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Have it your way. I noticed you didn’t argue about Booley being an idiot.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief at the shift in conversation and tried to think of something to say to defend the chief, but nothing came to mind. She couldn’t even say she got along with him because she didn’t. Booley was part of the deal she made to ensure her son had a future where he didn’t end up in jail. Plus, there was no way she could work in a city. She had hoped the slower pace of a small town would help with her panic attacks, but after this morning, she wasn’t so sure.

  Morgan’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. “A friend of mine is back in town so I’m heading to dinner.” He tapped out a text and then reached around her to open the door to his truck. He faced her, crowding her personal space. His scent, a combination of hay, earth, and sweat, surrounded her. His breath warmed her neck. She held still, resisting the urge to reach up and kiss him.

  What was she thinking? This man was the enemy. The way he’d position himself was a tactic: use his larger size and proximity to intimidate her. It wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t allow it. She stood her ground and tilted her face, meaning to stare him down. Her pulse jumped when she caught a glimpse of his mouth. “It’s too early for dinner.” She was grateful that she managed to get the words out without stuttering.

  His gaze was hard and unrelenting. “Good, ’cause you’re not invited.”

  He stepped to the side and tugged open the door, which propelled her forward and out of his way.

  She turned to face him, her determination returning. “Who are you going to meet?”

  “I told you, a friend.” He climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Where are you going?”

  He shrugged, yanking the door closed. “I’m not giving you directions. You decided to stalk me. Now you have to keep up.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dana trailed Morgan to Granite City. Given their last conversation, she’d expected him to drive like a maniac and try to lose her, but he was surprisingly steady and deliberate.

  Granite City was small compared to other cities in the United States with only fifty thousand residents, but it was a good size for Montana. She and Logan had explored it after their move to Hopefalls.

  She parked her beat-up Chevy next to Morgan’s shiny black Ford. He stood at the rear of her vehicle waiting for her. His hands were empty and hanging loose by his sides. She didn’t know if he was relaxed, or if he was purposely keeping his hands where she would see them. After this morning, it could be either scenario.

  She joined him as he walked across the lot to the square. “Tell me where we’re going?”

  He grinned. “The Dumb Luck Café.”

  “What kind of a place is it?” You could tell a lot about a person by the places they frequented and the company they kept.

  “You’ll like it. A lot of cops hang out there.”

  The bistro-style café sat adjacent to the police station, meaning he was probably telling the truth and it was a cop haunt. Tim opened the door for her. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that was totally unexpected. She nodded a thank you and stepped ahead of him but then came to an abrupt halt because there was a lineup of people waiting to order. There wasn’t much space between the door and the cash register.

  Heat radiated from Morgan as he crammed in behind her. Quivers of need cascaded down her spine. Damn. She tensed. It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong. It was just that her body seemed hyperaware whenever he was near.

  It wasn’t his closeness that made her tingle. It must be that she hadn’t had sex in a long time. Yes, that was it. It had been years sin
ce her last date. Okay, problem solved. She wasn’t responding to Morgan. It was just some errant hormones reminding her of her abstinence.

  Morgan tapped her on the shoulder and made a shooing motion with his hand, telling her to take a step. The lineup had cleared, and she hadn’t noticed.

  If he thought she’d answer to a hand wave, he was sorely mistaken. He could ask her to move forward and be polite about it. She shook her head in reply.

  He rolled his eyes and stepped around her.

  It was her turn to tap him on the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing butting in line?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. “I was stuck next to the door, and you wouldn’t go. You snooze, you lose,” he said, resorting to a worn-out cliché.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Maybe if you’d asked instead of giving me a vague hand signal, I might have understood.” That was a lie. She’d known exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

  Dana decided to let it go. It didn’t matter who ordered first.

  Wait, maybe it did. She was supposed to be tailing him, which meant he should go first.

  He stepped up to the server and ordered a coffee and turkey sandwich from a white-haired woman behind the counter.

  Dana took the opportunity to look around the coffee shop. It was surprisingly upmarket with an assortment of high tables with stools, armchairs with coffee tables, and plain tables and chairs. Bold red letters marked the exit at the back of the building, but she didn’t think she’d need it. The Dumb Luck Café was clean and nicely decorated with a caseload of fresh baked goods that made her mouth water. And there was a steady stream of customers, many of them in police uniforms.

  Morgan made his way to a sectional couch that formed a U-shape in front of an unlit fireplace.

  She ordered a mocha coffee, a meatloaf sandwich with potato wedges, and a brownie and then sat on a high stool behind Morgan. She probably could have sat with him, but that would’ve crossed the line from observing to participating, and she wasn’t ready to do that.

  Her sandwich was rich, delicious, and instantly appeased the dull pain in her head. She would’ve preferred thin-cut fries with lots of salt, but they only had wedges, and she would take whatever junk food she could get, especially when Logan wasn’t around to tell her off.

  A broad-shouldered man wearing a cheap gray suit entered the cafe. Immediately, he made eye contact with Morgan, nodded, and then proceeded to the counter to order his food. His thick black hair was cropped military short, and he had sharp blue eyes that seemed to notice everything. She would bet her next paycheck he was a law enforcement officer.

  This was interesting. Morgan was meeting a cop. Was he making some kind of deal? There was no way she would let him negotiate his way out of Aunt Alice’s manslaughter charge. Dear God, what was she thinking? This was supposed to be about Ben, but emotionally it was impossible for her to separate the two cases. And that was the problem with this whole set up. She was too involved. She couldn’t trust her own judgment. In the past, she’d always been able to think through the variables of a case in a logical manner. She could examine the evidence, talk to witnesses, and do background checks. Here she was lost, and not just because of her personal interest. This case didn’t fall under the jurisdiction of the Hopefalls Police so she didn’t have access to any of the pertinent details.

  Morgan smiled and stood as the officer approached. His jacket opened to reveal a badge—FBI. Morgan was meeting with the FBI. Whatever he was into must be bigger than she imagined.

  The pair sat, but before the agent could open his mouth, Morgan looked straight at her. “Do you need us to talk louder so you can take notes?”

  The agent turned to stare at her. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m under surveillance,” Morgan announced and then took a sip of his coffee, as if her presence was nothing to be concerned about.

  “Why?” The agent narrowed his eyes, assessing her.

  “Either Officer Hayden has taken it upon herself, or she’s been ordered, to tail me.” There was no inflection in his voice—no malice, hate, not even anger, which was surprising given the situation.

  The agent took a long drink from his water bottle and then said, “I spoke to David an hour ago. He filled me in on what happened to your neighbor.” He turned to face her. “So, were you ordered or did you take it upon yourself?”

  “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” Dana stared at the table, uncomfortable. Although whether she was embarrassed about being so obvious in her task or the job itself she couldn’t say. Shadowing Timothy Morgan wasn’t panning out the way she expected. She’d known from the beginning he would recognize her, but he didn’t seem troubled by her presence. Which meant one of two things—he had nerves of steel or he was innocent with nothing to hide.

  The agent patted the empty cushion next to him, signaling for her to sit with them. “Join us. Tim has always had a weakness for policewomen, soldiers, sailors, and strong women in general.”

  Morgan rolled his eyes. “Officer Dana Hayden, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Finn Callaghan.”

  Special Agent Callaghan smiled. “Please, call me Finn.”

  Dana moved to stand next to the empty seat. “Why are you meeting a federal agent? Are you involved in some kind of investigation?” She kept her gaze on Morgan, expecting him to squirm in his seat or show some other sign of guilt, but he smiled, revealing a charming, arrogant, irritating grin.

  Agent Callaghan picked up his Rueben sandwich. “This is a social visit. We’ve been friends for fifteen years since basic training. I can vouch for Tim’s good character and would be willing to do so in court if need be.”

  She sat, a new headache forming behind her eyes. Morgan wasn’t meeting some lowlife criminal. He was meeting a friend who just happened to be an FBI agent. What did that say about him? For years, she’d believed he had caused Aunt Alice’s death. She’d read the Hopefalls Police Department file when she’d first moved to town but hadn’t rechecked the facts or the witness statements. She had accepted Booley’s suspicions as fact. But could she believe the assumptions of a man, who just yesterday, had contaminated a crime scene? She was a trained detective. Maybe it was time to reexamine Aunt Alice’s case.

  Morgan shrugged. “We can pretend she’s not here.”

  Agent Callaghan laughed and then said, “Don’t be rude. Besides, it’s nice to see you with a woman.”

  “I’m not with him.” The pulse at Dana’s temple began to pound.

  “So, you heard from David about me?” Morgan changed the subject, playing with a plastic stir stick, rolling it along his fingers. Small scars covered his big knuckles—fighter’s hands.

  “Yeah, but he was a little fuzzy on the details, and homicide doesn’t fall under the FBI’s jurisdiction. We can’t interfere in an investigation unless we’re invited by the local police.”

  “That won’t happen.” Dana held her coffee cup to her forehead in an attempt to stop the pain.

  Morgan curled his lip in a sneer. “Why, because Booley won’t do it? My lawyer pointed out that it’s not his case.” He turned to Finn. “Detective Ramirez from Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department is investigating.”

  Agent Callaghan nodded. “He’s a good cop. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really… As far as I can tell, they think I shot Ben North over a gun. The weapon in question is a limited-edition Colt six-shooter. Apparently, it’s worth a lot of money.”

  “People have been killed for less,” the agent admitted.

  Morgan’s eyes widened as he gave his friend a hard look.

  Callaghan shook his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. I mean, other people have killed for less.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a bottle of aspirin, and placed it on the table in front of her.

  “I know, but why would I? I’m talking to a realtor about selling the ranch. Even if I drop the pr
ice to make it competitive, the property will still sell for millions.”

  “Are you sure there’s no other way?” Callaghan asked. “You love that place,”

  Morgan shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Technically it’s not my land. It’s Dad’s. Everything will go toward his care.”

  “I wish there was some way I could help.” Callaghan patted Morgan’s upper arm in a male show of sympathy.

  Morgan shrugged. “It’s probably for the best. These accusations about Ben’s death have put an end to the idea of ever settling there. I would be happy if I never set foot in Hopefalls again.”

  Dana pictured the Morgan place, situated between Molly’s Mountain and the Kootenai National Forest. It was vast and stretched for miles. She hadn’t driven past the gate to Wind Valley Ranch since her return to Hopefalls, but she remembered it from before Aunt Alice’s death. The Morgans had been rich. They’d employed people from the town. It was mostly seasonal work, but still, they had authority and clout. All that was now gone.

  The conversation turned to cooking. An FBI agent wouldn’t lie about them being friends since basic training. It seemed that Timothy Morgan wasn’t the man she imagined him to be. She hadn’t seen anything today to suggest he was a criminal. That trick with the gun was impressive. If she hadn’t been on the receiving end, she would’ve found it entertaining.

  She took a sip of her mocha. It was smooth and rich with the perfect amount of foam. She hated that her body reacted to Morgan. Even now sitting in this coffee shop with a pounding headache, she felt the live wire of sexual excitement skittering through her veins.

  “Why are you frowning at me?” Morgan’s question brought her back to the conversation.

  Her face heated. There was no way she would admit she’d been thinking about his physique. “I need to go to the restroom.”