Shirlee McCoy - Running for Cover

“Believe me, I know it. It’s pretty much all I’ve thought about for the past twelve hours.”

“Did you speak with Jake this morning?”

“Briefly. He called me a few hours before the wedding to let me know that he contacted the Spokane Police Department. They know I’m on the way. Other than that, he didn’t have much to report.”

“No leads?”

“None that he was willing to share.”

“I’ll make some phone calls. See if any of my old pals in the New York City Police Department have information about your ex’s murder.”

“I’m sure that Jake is already taking care of that.”

“I’m sure he is, too, but I don’t think he’d frown on another set of eyes and ears. Besides, I’ve got some buddies on the force. They may be willing to share information with me that they wouldn’t with someone else.”

“Even if it’s information that can help break a case?”

“The information I’m talking about is more the speculative type.”

“You mean gossip,” she said, moving toward the Northwest Airlines gate.

“Gossiping wouldn’t be a very manly thing to do. I prefer to think of it as dispersal of unproven information.”

“Dispersal of unproven information, huh? I’ll have to remember that one.” They’d reached the gate, and Morgan stopped, turning to face Jackson. With the dark glasses off, Jackson could clearly see the fear and worry in her eyes. “I know it may seem like I’m not grateful to you for what you’ve done, but I am. You saved my life, and I don’t take that lightly.”

“You saved your own life, Morgan. I just happened to be there to help out.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I think we both know the truth,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

The jolt of awareness that shot through him was as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

Surprised, he met her eyes, saw his own shock reflected there.

She dropped his hand, took a quick step back. “Take care, Jackson.”

She hurried away before he could respond.

That was fine. He’d ignore what he’d felt. Chalk it up to fatigue and stress or too many months out of the dating game. What he wouldn’t do was let Morgan travel to Washington alone. She was in too vulnerable a condition. If she ran into her enemies again, she’d have no way to defend herself. No hope of escape.

He watched until she was through the security gate, and then he followed, trying to blend in with an older couple moving into the boarding area ahead of him. No sense in letting Morgan know he’d booked a flight to Spokane until it was too late for either of them to trade in their tickets.

Morgan was a hundred yards away, sitting with her back to the security gate. Not a good move. Anyone could walk through without her noticing. Jackson was tempted to tell her that, but figured it could wait. They’d have plenty of time to talk about safety measures on the flight to Spokane.

He took a seat on a bench several rows away from Morgan, positioning himself so that he was partially hidden by an information desk. They’d board the plane in a half hour. That would be soon enough to let Morgan know he was sticking around. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t be happy about it, and he was just as sure he didn’t care. He’d made the mistake of believing Lindsey when she’d brushed off his concern over a bruised cheek and a broken finger. An accident, she’d said. And he’d taken her at her word. Two months later, she was dead.

God knew Jackson regretted not asking more questions, regretted not allowing himself to imagine the unimaginable.

Regretted it, but regret didn’t change what had happened, and it couldn’t bring his sister back.

He was going to Spokane. He was going to finish what he’d started because he had to.

For Lindsey.

For Lacey and Jude.

For Morgan.

And maybe, more than anything else, for himself.

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