Marta Perry - Murder in Plain Sight

Geneva reached across the table to clasp Jessica’s hand in hers. “We’ve put you in a terrible position, bringing you here. My dear, I never dreamed it would be this bad for you.” Her eyes swam with tears. “Maybe you should give this up. I don’t want you to be hurt, but poor Thomas…”

Jessica squeezed her hand firmly, her heart touched by the obvious caring in the older woman’s expression. “I wouldn’t think of giving up on Thomas. I’m not going to be scared off by a few nasty notes.”

And a few slashed tires, her mind added. To say nothing of that person in the parking lot. And the dead bird.

“Well, you can’t continue to stay at that dreadful motel by yourself,” Geneva said. “You must move in here with us, where you’ll be safe and we can look after you.”

“Jessica may not think this place is all that safe.” Trey’s jaw was tight, but a tiny muscle twitched as if to testify to the enormous effort it took to control his anger. Ugliness and danger had come right to the very doorstep of the Morgan family’s peaceful enclave. No doubt he thought that was his responsibility, too.

“It’s not that,” Jessica answered his emotion as much as his words. “We’re all upset right now. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

“Jessica’s right,” Leo said. “We’re not in any shape to make decisions now.”

“Besides, maybe Chief Byler will find something,” Jessica added. “He seemed very competent.”

“Adam’s a good guy. Smart. He can’t touch the original crime, but this was in his jurisdiction, and he won’t take it lightly.” Trey’s tension seemed to ease. “Maybe you have a point. We can talk all these through once we’ve had a decent night’s sleep.” He turned to her. “If you want to stay here tonight-”

It took all her determination to make her stand. Smile. Look braver than she felt. “No, thanks. I’ll head back to the motel. Again.”

“I’ll follow you there.” Trey’s tone didn’t allow for any argument.

Once again Jessica said her good-nights, once again she and Trey walked outside together. He waited while she got in and started the car, and she didn’t miss his glance into the backseat, as if to assure himself there were no unwelcome surprises. Only when she’d locked the door did he walk to his pickup and climb in.

She’d expected to have some reaction once she was finally alone, but she didn’t, perhaps because she wasn’t really alone. Trey was there, in the reflection of his lights, shining and steady in her rearview mirror.

By the time she pulled up to the motel, she was yawning. Maybe she’d actually sleep tonight. This time the space directly in front of her unit was free, and she pulled in with only the faintest inward quiver.

Still, she was cautious enough not to open the door until Trey had drawn up beside her. He got out, leaving the truck’s motor running.

She slid from the seat before he could open the door for her, grabbing her laptop. “Thanks so much for the bodyguard duty. I’ll be fine now.”

He managed a smile, but his strong-boned face looked stern in the dim light. “My mother always told me I should walk a lady to her door.”

“That sounds a little old-fashioned for Geneva.” She fell into step with him. “Are you sure you’re not making that up?”

He gave her a look of mock astonishment. “My mother might look like a flower child from time to time, but she was brought up in the strictest Main Line tradition. We learned to write thank-you notes before most kids learned their ABCs.”

“We?”

“My brother and sister and I.”

She stopped at the door, fishing in her bag for her key. “I saw a picture in the family room. They’re younger than you, aren’t they?” She hadn’t had any trouble picking out Trey’s face in the family photo-he hadn’t really changed all that much from his younger self.

“Link and Libby. Twins, two years younger than I am.” His mouth twitched. “It’s a good thing they’re not here, or they’d be in this thing up to their necks.”

“And then you’d have someone else to protect.” She looked up in his face as he took the key card and opened the door for her. “Don’t you ever get tired of being in charge?”

If his face changed at that, she couldn’t be sure. The door opened, letting out a soft glow from the lamp she’d left on. She tried to smile, tried to find something casual to say.

“I’ll…”

He touched her cheek, and whatever she’d intended to say was lost in the warmth that emanated from that touch. Her breath caught as his palm cradled her face, tipping it up to his.

His lips found hers, tentatively at first, and then more surely. His hand trailed down her neck, and she felt the pulse there pound against his palm. Warmth flooded through her.

He pulled away, finally, looking as startled and bemused as she must have looked. His fingers trailed down her cheek, leaving heat in their wake.

“Good night.” His voice was husky. “Lock the door.”

He waited until she was inside, until the dead bolt clicked. And she waited until she heard his footsteps recede and the truck drive away. Even then, her breath still came quickly.

Something had happened, something more than just a kiss. She didn’t know exactly what it meant, but she knew that their relationship had changed. Irrevocably.

BY THE TIME TREY reached the house, reality had set in. He couldn’t begin a relationship with Jessica when they were in the midst of something that could change lives forever. All their attention had to be focused on finding the truth.

Was that what Jessica wanted? Or would she be content with anything that cleared her client? He didn’t know. He’d stumbled into caring about her without even considering whether she shared his values.

He put the truck away and walked into the house, where he was met by Sam, tail waving gently. “Good boy.” He patted the silky head.

A light shone down the hallway-the light in his father’s study. He followed it, uneasy. Mom seldom went in there these days, although she’d practically lived there in the weeks after Dad’s death.

He paused in the doorway. His mother sat in the leather armchair that had been Dad’s, her eyes closed.

“Mom? Anything wrong?”

She shook her head, but when she opened her eyes, he saw that they had filled with tears. He strode to her, sitting on the leather hassock and taking her hands in his. “What is it?”

Sam whined a little, maybe at the tone of his voice. He padded across the room and put his head in Mom’s lap.

She gave a watery chuckle. “You two are just alike. Too worried about me. I’m fine.”

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be sitting here crying.” He tried to keep his voice even, but it did strange things to his insides to see his mother cry.

“I’m just being a bit foolish.” She wiped her eyes with both palms. “I started wondering what your father would think about all of this, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting here crying.”

“I’m sorry.” He felt about as awkward as a man could feel. “I know how much you miss him.”

“He was my rock.” Her lips curved. “Not that we always agreed on everything, mind you. But he was solid, all the way through.”

“I know.” He did know. His father had defined integrity.

“I’ve never understood, you know. I think I’ve accepted what…what he did, but I don’t understand.”

He didn’t either, but he didn’t suppose it would do any good to say so. “Maybe he didn’t want to put us through it. If he was convinced he wasn’t going to get well-”

“But he had a chance.” Her fingers bit into his hands. “The oncologist was encouraging. He said that even if Blake could never get entirely well, he could have lived with the cancer for a while, at least. We’d have had that time together.”