High-Caliber Holiday (13 page)

Jake led the way to the nearest lounge and Brady lingered in the doorway where he could keep an eye on Morgan's door. Archer handed a cup to Jake and took the last one for himself.

“So where are we?” Jake dropped into a chair.

Brady shrugged. “I'm just not sure where to go from here. As I see it, even if we had enough evidence to get a warrant to search for antifreeze at Eckert or Nantz's place—”

“Which we don't,” Jake interrupted.

“Right, which we don't, most car owners have antifreeze in their garage.”

Jake nodded. “And most antifreeze is made from the same active ingredients so we couldn't link a specific brand to anything we might find at Morgan's place.”

“Anyone search her house yet?” Archer asked.

“I called Rossi. His team is on it.”

Jake took a long drink of his coffee, then stared over the cup. “Eckert owns a garage. That would make him more familiar with antifreeze than Nantz.”

“Still, Nantz would have ready access to antifreeze.”

Archer leaned forward. “If we want to hone in on the best suspect, we should look at motive. The slow poisoning likely means we're looking for someone who wanted to see her suffer. Obviously this isn't the normal behavior of a stalker who professes his love as the messages she's received would indicate.”

“Are you saying we're dealing with two people here, then?” Brady snapped, sounding as frustrated as he felt.

“It could be one guy,” Archer said. “He'd just be an even sicker individual who could justify poisoning her as a way to weaken her so he could prove that she needs him, or as a way to gain a sense of control over her.”

Brady shook his head. “I don't get that mentally ill vibe from Nantz or Eckert.”

“Remember, sociopaths can hide their behavior quite well so maybe you're not seeing it.”

“Maybe.” Brady leaned against the wall and let his mind wander over other people in Morgan's life that they may have missed.

“What if we tried to set a trap for the stalker?” Jake asked.

Brady perked up. “Like what?”

“No one other than the killer knows that Morgan and Fred were poisoned. When she gets out of here, she can mix up a new batch of drinks. Then she can make a container accessible at work, tell her coworkers it's a different batch and we can watch with a hidden camera. We could place one in her home, too, and maybe one at the gym. If someone bites, we'll have our suspect.”

Warming to the idea, Brady smiled. “We can make that happen.”

“Since Morgan has to remain in the hospital it'll give us plenty of time to get our plan together.” Archer crossed his leg. “I'm guessing you'll want to stay here with Morgan, so why don't Jake and I arrange for the equipment needed to set this up.”

“Thanks, man,” Brady said. “Now all we need to do is finalize a plan and get Morgan on board.”

They spent the next hour hashing out details and assignments, and when they'd finished Brady went back to Morgan's room to relieve Darcie.

Morgan huddled in her bed, tubes running from her neck to the machine cleaning her blood and returning it to her body. She looked so beaten down that if Darcie hadn't been in the room, he'd already have had Morgan in his arms.

Darcie stepped up to him. “Can I talk to you in the hallway?”

Brady was certain Darcie was going to give him more bad news about Morgan and his gut ached as he stepped back outside.

“I'm worried about Morgan.” Darcie's eyes narrowed with concern. “The reality of being poisoned has set in and she's barely holding it together.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “Any suggestions on how to help her?”

“Just be there for her and whatever you do, don't be your usual fidgety self, pacing around the room. That'll only make it worse.” She gave him an encouraging smile and quick hug. “I've always liked Morgan, so don't hurt her, okay?”

“Hurt her? I'm protecting her.”

“I don't mean physically. We both know you're attracted to her, likely more, but you've got a thing about making money before getting seriously involved with a woman. Not to mention the chip on your shoulder when it comes to wealthy people. Don't lead Morgan on and then spring that little surprise on her.”

“I don't plan on doing any such thing.”

“I get that you're not planning it up here.” She thumped his forehead. “But I saw how you looked at her just now. You're not thinking with your brain.”

Darcie departed, and he stepped back into Morgan's room. She was sitting up in bed with only a small corner light on. Shadows shrouded her face, but he could hear the sounds of crying, and her shoulders were shaking.

He crossed the room and gingerly sat on the edge of her bed. “What is it, honey?”

She sniffled and shook her head.

He took her hand, held it between both of his. “You can tell me.”

“It's Fred. I keep thinking if I hadn't let him have one of my drinks, he—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupted. “You can't think that way. This is all on the person who put the poison in your drinks. We'll find him and he will pay.”

“I know, but—” A deep sob tore away her words.

He ignored Darcie's warning, ignored his own resolve, and carefully drew Morgan into his arms. She clung to him with her free arm and sobbed into his chest. He was aware of everything about her. Her scent. The softness of her hair. The warmth of her body. The stilling of her crying and the soft contented breathing that followed.

She didn't move. He didn't, either. Neither of them willing to part, perhaps. At least, he wasn't willing. Did she feel the same way?

He pulled back. Searched her eyes. Saw the interest burning in the depths.

“Morgan, I...” He didn't know what to say so let his words fall off.

She reached up. Caressed his cheek. Her touch was tender and electrifying at the same time.

How could she cause these reactions in him? No one else ever had and he didn't know what do to. How to act. He did know he wanted to kiss her. But as Darcie just warned, it wouldn't be fair to Morgan.

She circled a delicate hand around the back of his neck. Drew his head down.

She wanted him to kiss her. He wouldn't, couldn't, deny either of them.

He lowered his head. His lips met hers. Emotions shot through his blood. She returned the kiss measure for measure. He was lost in the kiss, and if he admitted the truth, a bomb could go off in the room and he wouldn't hear it.

Not good.

He pulled back, keeping his eyes averted from her face and slowing his breathing. If he didn't already have enough reasons not to kiss Morgan, he had to remember she was counting on him to protect her. He couldn't afford to lose his focus and let her down. Her life depended on it.

FOURTEEN

M
organ watched Brady as he talked on his phone. He sat in a vinyl recliner by the window in her hospital room, exactly where he'd been all morning. Even when the nurses came in to do their checks. Or when Lacy stopped by to visit. Even when taking phone calls. He'd sat right there as he chatted with Archer about the plan they'd hatched to trap the person poisoning her drinks.

She appreciated Brady's care and concern, but she wished he would go home so she could be alone to think. Not about last night's amazing kiss, but about how she felt after the kiss. Wanting more. Wanting him in her life despite knowing that wasn't possible.

The door suddenly flew open and her father rushed in. He locked his focus on her and crossed the room in a few quick strides. Brady's hand went to his gun as he shot to his feet.

“Dad,” she said, and waved Brady off. Her mother, dressed in a linen suit, her hair perfectly in place, trailed Morgan's father into the room as she'd trailed him everywhere for as long as Morgan could remember. Always living in his shadow. A life Morgan didn't want for herself and would do everything possible to avoid.

He planted his feet wide. “I've already got them working on moving you to a private room, and I've arranged for a qualified specialist to see you.”

She tightened her hands under the blanket. “How did you find out I was here?”

“Your mother stopped by your work to take you out to lunch today, but your friend Lacy said you were here with kidney stones.”

“Hello, dear.” Her mother gave a tight smile. “I'm sorry to hear about the kidney stones. I've heard they're quite painful.”

“My specialist will get that sorted out,” her father said.

“I have everything covered, Dad. I don't need or want a private room or your doctor's help. My insurance won't cover the room.”

“Nonsense. I'll take care of the bill.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I don't want your money.”

“Don't be stubborn. You may have tried to make it on your own, but this just shows how much you still need us.”

The words stung, but Morgan took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm and firm. “You're not hearing me, Dad. I don't need your help with this. My insurance will cover most of it, and I have a perfectly wonderful doctor.”

“I don't care what—”

Brady shot across the room. “Give it a rest already. She said she was fine.”

“And you are?”

“This is Brady Owens. He's a—”

“A friend,” Brady interrupted.

A good thing, or in the heat of arguing with her father she might slip up and say something about the poison or her stalker.

“Brady,” Morgan continued. “These are my parents, Randall and Felicity Thorsby.”

Her father arched a brow and stared at Brady. “You're a friend with a gun, I see.”

“I'm a deputy.”

“If you're carrying, does that mean you're on duty?” Her father returned his focus to her. “Is there something more we need to know about here?”

“Relax,” Morgan said. “Nothing's wrong.” At least not at the moment, other than her father inserting himself into her life.

“As she said, sir,” Brady added, “Morgan's perfectly safe and there's no need for you to worry.”

Her father didn't seem to believe Brady and focused his intense gaze on Morgan again. “You will, of course, stay with us when you are discharged.”

“No.” She shook her head for added emphasis. “I'm fine on my own.”

Her father crossed his arms. “I won't accept that.”

Brady scowled at her dad. “Morgan said no. Let it go at that.” He turned his focus on her and the scowl vanished. “You can stay at the firehouse where Darcie can monitor your health.”

She could think of nothing better than not having to take care of herself for a few days and spending it with the fine members of the FRS. But she couldn't accept Brady's offer. Not with her father watching. He'd see it as weak.
Her
as weak. As needing help. She wouldn't lose ground with him now. Not after she'd worked so hard to prove her independence.

* * *

Brady was about to argue the point further when the door opened again. Great. Just the person Brady didn't want to see.

Wearing another tailored suit, every hair in place, and carrying a stuffed bear plus a vase filled with white long-stemmed roses, Preston stepped in as if he belonged. He set the flowers on the table. “I hope I've given you all enough time to catch up.”

“What are you doing here?” Morgan asked, sounding mad.

“I was worried about you, sweetheart.” He handed the bear to Morgan who took it and set it aside without looking at it. “I hope you're coming home to recuperate with your parents.”

Morgan frowned.

“Actually,” Brady stepped closer to Morgan, “Morgan will be going to her apartment and if she needs any help, I'll be there for her. I've crashed on her living room floor before, I can do it again,” he added to see how Preston would respond.

He clenched his jaw, but quickly blew off whatever strain he was feeling. “Doesn't sound like the smartest of plans.”

“Will everyone just stop?” Morgan snapped. “I'm a big girl, and I don't need the four of you planning my life.” She crossed her arms. “Now, if this is the only reason you're here, you might as well take off, as I'm not changing my mind.”

Preston glared at Brady as if he was the cause of Morgan's refusal, but she'd told him no, too. Brady had to admit it hurt. Maybe she was putting on a show for her parents so they didn't find out about the stalker and poison, but it didn't feel like a show. Her anger with all of them felt real.

His best course of action was to stand back and wait until the others left, then ask her about it. He watched her interact with them and an uncomfortable vibe continued to linger in the room. Morgan shut her father down after most everything he said. He didn't look hurt by her treatment, just mad that she wouldn't go along with him.

And Preston? He was upset, but Brady wasn't sure why. Could it be that he really hadn't wanted to break up with Morgan? Just because he wasn't in town to leave the items at her house, didn't mean he hadn't been the one to poison her. He clearly fit the narcissistic personality. From what Archer said, a man of that type wouldn't look fondly on anyone who walked out on him as Morgan had done.

Brady wanted to question the guy, but Brady couldn't give Preston any indication that they knew about the poison and alert him to be on guard. Brady settled for watching the clock tick down until they departed. The door had barely closed when he stepped up to Morgan's bed. “Is there any way Preston could have access to your keys?”

“It's possible, I suppose. My mom never gave me a list of who met with my dad in his office, but Preston could be one of them.”

“Can you ask your parents about the keys without making them suspicious?”

“I thought we'd ruled Preston out. Did he do or say something here to change that?”

“I'm getting a weird vibe from him.”

“A vibe? That's all this is?” She shook her head. “I know him better than you and I think he's acting normal.”

“Maybe you still care about him and can't see it,” Brady said, and hoped she'd refute his comment.

“Trust me. There is nothing left between us other than casual friendship.”

“Then you won't mind if I have Rossi run Preston's prints.” Brady recovered Preston's iced tea cup from the trash. He felt Morgan's disapproving stare follow him, but he didn't care. He didn't like Preston. Not one bit. And Brady was on a mission to prove the guy's guilt, no matter what.

* * *

To Morgan's dismay, Rossi wasted no time in processing Preston's prints. A mere hour had passed before he emailed the report to Brady who handed the document to her with an I-told-you-so look on his face.

“Morgan,” Brady said. “You're not saying anything.”

She looked up at him. “What
can
I say? Preston's prints match the ones lifted from my house and car, but we have proof that he was out of town when those first roses were left for me.”

“Do we?” Brady shoved his fingers through his hair leaving little tufts standing up. “Perhaps Rossi wasn't as thorough as he should have been. He didn't actually give me details of Preston's alibi. He just said it checked out. Maybe we need to take a deeper look.”

She shook her head. “Or the prints could be from when Preston previously visited my apartment. Plus he likely touched my car when he walked me to it after dinner at my parents' house.”

“I don't get you.” Brady crossed his arms, frustration oozing from his pores. “You want this to end. You want us to find the person who poisoned you, and yet you won't even consider that we might need to relook at Preston.”

“I can't,” she fired at him.

“Why?” he shot back as quickly.

“Why? Why?” Her voice carried to the ceiling. “Because I was engaged to him, all right? What kind of judge of character does that make me if I almost married a stalker?” She crossed her arms. “It would say I can't rely on my judgment for anything. That's not something I need to hear at a point in my life when I'm striking out on my own.”

Brady's frustrated look vanished. “It doesn't say that at all. You heard Archer. These men are masters at manipulating and hiding their ways.” Brady sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, the warmth of his fingers thawing hers. “If it turns out he's not who you thought he was, you can't beat yourself up about it. Just be thankful you broke it off with him when you did.”

“Maybe you're right. I don't know.” She sighed and took a deep breath to bolster her confidence to admit the next thing. “I still don't see Preston as a stalker, but I can see him wanting to retaliate for a perceived wrong.”

“A wrong like you leaving him?” Brady's voice dropped, his hand tightened.

“Yes,” she whispered as she looked down.

Brady continued to hold her hand, and with the other, he crooked a finger under her chin to lift it. He met her gaze. Held it. “Then you consider him a possible suspect in the poisoning?”

Did she? Did she really? “I want to say no, but you're right. We need to at least keep him on the suspect list.”

“I know that was hard to admit, but it's a step in the right direction.” Brady smiled as he squeezed her hand. “Are you up to helping me set a trap for him?”

“A trap?” She jerked her hand away.

Brady looked like she'd slapped him, and he slid back. “We have to find out, Morgan. One way or another, we have to find out.”

She resisted sighing. “What do you want me to do?”

“I'd like you to call Preston. Tell him you had to change the locks on your apartment and car. Ask if he'll stop by here to pick up a new set of keys and take them to your father since you can't leave the hospital. When Preston arrives, I'll tail him to see if he uses the keys or has copies made before he hands them over to your dad.”

“That sounds so underhanded.”

“And you think poisoning you isn't underhanded?”

She imagined the scenario playing out. Seeing Preston use the keys to leave a rose or picture. The thought sent a shiver over her body. “No, it is, but...”

Brady took both of her hands this time, his big, strong fingers wrapping around hers. He watched her for long moments, his eyes seeking something. “I get it, Morgan. Trust me, I do. It's hard to treat someone you once cared about this way.”

“Exactly.”

“I'm asking you to take a big step. Forget about your past with Preston and help me either rule him out or catch him in the act.” Brady smiled, his expression comforting. “Can you do that for me?”

With the way he was looking at her, his eyes soft, his smile warm, his expression caring, she'd agree to just about anything. Even this. She nodded.

“Good. Thank you. It's the right thing to do. I know it is.” He released her hand. “I'll get an extra set of keys made. You call Preston. Okay?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling like she was betraying a friend. But if Brady was right, Preston could be the man who tried to kill her, and she had to learn the truth no matter how painful it might be.

* * *

“Don't worry, I got this,” Cash said outside Morgan's door, but his words gave Brady little comfort.

He didn't want to leave Morgan in anyone's hands. Not even Cash's. As a former Army Delta, he was a force to be reckoned with and anyone intent on harming Morgan would likely take one look at Cash and turn the other way.

Still, things could go wrong quickly. Brady ought to know. He'd performed the same security duty for Cash's fiancée, Krista. Done everything in his power to care for her just as Cash would have, and she was still almost killed.

The memory of her near death cautioned Brady to be even more diligent and careful with Morgan. “I trust you, man, but you trusted me, too. Then my detail for Krista went wrong. Remember?”

Cash ran a finger around the collar of his shirt and tugged. “Won't likely ever forget it, but it all ended okay.”

“Eventually.” Brady stared at Morgan's door. “Maybe I should stay and let you follow Preston.”

Cash lifted dark eyebrows. “I'd be glad to do it for you, but if it turns out this guy poisoned Morgan, do you really want to miss out on bringing him to justice?”

“Of course not,” Brady answered without thinking. “If he's our guy, then I want to see the cuffs slapped on his wrists and the sorry excuse for a man thrown into the back of a patrol car.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, fine. But I want you to stand right next to Morgan when she hands Preston the keys. And then I expect a text from you every five minutes telling me things are okay.”