Christmas Haven (8 page)

“Do you know your neighbors?” Morgan asked.

“Not well. I leave early and get home past seven most nights.”

“Long day.”

“Says the guy who’s on duty every day of his life.”

“We have that in common,” Morgan said. “What?”

“Our jobs are also our vocations. You dedicate your life to teenagers and I dedicate mine to the citizens of Port Whisper. Of course, I know you probably think mine is a cakewalk compared to what you see every day, but you’d be surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“As the chief, and son of the previous chief, everyone looks up to me and confides in me. There’s stress in being perfect all the time, stress in counseling people when I have no training in psychology. I hope I respond in a helpful way, either by offering advice, or just listening. But I never really know.”

“How do you decide what to do?”

“I pray for guidance. I know you don’t want to hear that, but God is the beacon of light as I navigate my way through life. When all else fails, I add the person to my daily prayer list.”

“You pray every day?”

“First thing in the morning, right before breakfast. It energizes me, helps me focus on what’s important.” He glanced at her, then back to the cars ahead. “Guess that makes me a dork or something.”

“No, I just don’t remember you being so religious.”

“Don’t you remember us going to church together? Holding hands as we sang the hymns?”

She did, but didn’t want to. She couldn’t deal with the emotional pain of the past right now.

“I guess,” she said.

“I sought God’s light to help me cope with Dad’s moods, to help me…” He faltered. “Get over you.”

“Do you hear God when you pray to Him?”

“It’s more like a feeling, a direction. I surrender myself in a given situation, and do what feels right in my heart. God is about love, after all.”

They turned onto John Street.

“That’s my building,” she said.

“I’ll park a few blocks away in case someone’s watching. I don’t want them to track us by getting my plate number.”

“Oh, okay.”

He pulled up to the curb and glanced at her. “When we get inside, stay behind me, okay?”

“Sure.”

They walked side by side the two blocks to her building, Morgan continually scanning the street. Although her place was tucked away behind the Seattle Center, there was always plenty of foot traffic during big events.

“Hang on,” Morgan said, stopping short about ten feet from the apartment building.

She peered around him. The front door was ajar.

“Sometimes we leave it open when we’re moving stuff in
and out,” Julie offered. She didn’t want to assume this was a nefarious sign related to her stalker.

“Just the same, let’s take it slow.” He edged his way toward the front door, just as one of Julie’s neighbors wheeled a dolly stacked with boxes around the corner.

“Oh, hey,” she called out to Julie.

“Hi, Heather.” Julie’s anxiety eased. “See,” she said to Morgan. “She left it open.”

“Did you connect with your uncle?” Heather asked.

“Pardon me?” Julie said. She didn’t have an uncle.

“Your uncle stopped by this morning looking for you. He said you missed dinner last night and he was worried.”

Morgan glanced at her, slightly shaking his head.

Julie got the message. “We must have just missed each other.”

“Can I help with the door?” Morgan offered, holding the door for Heather.

“Thanks.” She smiled at Morgan and a twang of jealousy shot through Julie. How silly. What right did she have to feel jealous about anything Morgan did? She studied him. Was he attracted to Heather? No, he was fixated on the stairs leading to Julie’s apartment.

“See you guys later,” Heather said, pressing the elevator button.

“’Bye.” Julie started up the stairs, but Morgan gently grabbed her arm.

“Me first,” he said.

“Right, sorry. I don’t have an uncle,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Do you think—”

“Probably. Let’s focus on getting your clothes and getting back home.”

Home.
It had been a long time since she thought of Port Whisper as her home.

They got to the second floor and she pointed to her apartment. He opened his hand and she passed him her keys. “Stay
flat against the wall. If something goes wrong, head down the back stairs to the restaurant next door and call 9-1-1.”

“Okay.”

“Under no circumstances do you come inside until I tell you it’s safe to do so.”

She nodded, fighting back another adrenaline rush.

Morgan stuck the key in the door and unlocked it, disappearing inside. The door didn’t automatically shut, the charm of an old building. She listened intently for sounds of a struggle, or for Morgan’s signal to join him. Seconds dragged like hours as she stood there, clutching the phone.

The front door to the building slammed closed down below. Footsteps echoed up the stairwell and she held her breath. What if her “uncle” had been waiting across the street for her to return home?

She peeked inside her apartment, unable to see anything but the long hallway leading to the living room.

Footsteps grew louder, closer…

The back of a man’s head came into view and she jumped into her apartment and gently shut the door. Pressing her forehead against the aged wood, she took a slow, deep breath and eyed the peephole.

Nothing. It could be an upstairs neighbor, or a visiting family member.

She was overreacting. Heading into the living room, she framed her cheeks with her hands, trying to ground herself. She turned the corner into the living room and stopped short. Sofa cushions and pillows were scattered across the floor, the coffee table lay upside down like a dead animal and books had been ripped off her shelves and thrown haphazardly onto the ground. Her favorite afghan, the one Mom crocheted as a high-school graduation present, was crumpled on the floor instead of stretching proudly across the back of the sofa.

Then realization hit her: no Morgan.

She opened her new cell phone to call the police, her heart
pounding in her chest. She was about to press Send when he climbed through her living-room window.

He stood and brushed his hands on his jeans. “I thought I told you to stay in the hallway.”

“I got spooked. I saw some guy coming up the stairs and panicked that it was my long-lost uncle.”

“Well, this is how they got in. Didn’t bother to close the window all the way.”

A knock at the door made her yelp.

Morgan put his finger to his lips and went to the door. He looked through the peephole, stepped aside and motioned for her to do the same. “You know him?”

She recognized William. “It’s my friend from work. He’s okay.”

She swung open the door against Morgan’s protest. “William?”

“Thank God you’re okay. I was so worried after your phone call this morning.”

“I’m fine, come in.”

William stepped into her apartment and eyed Morgan.

“William Pratt, this is an old friend, Morgan Wright,” she introduced.

Morgan reluctantly shook hands. Being a cop, it was natural to be suspicious of strangers, she figured. But William was kind and hard-working. At forty-six, he’d made it longer with these kids than anyone else at the office, and some days she wished she knew his secret—what kept him going with a smile on his face.

Morgan shut the door and locked it. She motioned William into the living room and Morgan followed.

“I tried your cell, but it went into voice mail. I was hoping I’d catch you before you disappeared.” William glanced across the disheveled living room. “Whoa.”

“Like I mentioned on the phone, someone’s after me and I need to fly under the radar.”

“I guess that means there’s no way you’d come into the office?”

“No,” Morgan answered.

Julie cracked an apologetic smile at William. “I’m not sure I can risk it.”

“That’s unfortunate. Dynacorp only wants to take a meeting to discuss the grant if you’re the one making the presentation.”

“That’s ridiculous. You and Helen know the material better than any of us.”

“True, and Helen was steaming when we she heard about the request. But you put it together, Julie. It’s your brainchild.”

“What grant?” Morgan asked.

“Dynacorp is a pharmaceutical company that offers grants every year to nonprofits,” Julie explained. “We applied, and our interview presentation is scheduled for two weeks from now.”

“They moved it up to next week,” William said.

“Why?”

“Something about an executive leaving the country on business.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Morgan said. “But I need to get Julie out of the city.”

“Of course. Julie, if you need anything…” William offered.

“Thanks.”

“What do you want me to tell the boss?”

“I emailed her that I’m taking a family-emergency leave. But—” she glanced at Morgan, then back to William “—let’s see how this stalker thing goes. With any luck, it will be over soon and I can make the Dynacorp meeting.”

“I hope so.”

“Here, I have a new cell number.” She wrote it down on the back of a receipt and handed it to him. “Call me with updates, okay?”

“Sure.” William turned to leave, but Morgan stopped him. “I
think it would be safer if we all left together.” Morgan glanced at Julie. “You’ve got three minutes to pack.”

“But my place is a mess.”

“Can’t worry about that now, Jules. Go on.”

She knew he was right, and trusted his instincts. Trying to block out the violent image of her trashed living room, she went into her bedroom and pulled a suitcase out of her closet. She cast a glance around the room and found it curious that they hadn’t trashed it, as well. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. The thought of the intruders touching her things, her personal things…

She shook her head and shoved as much as she could into the suitcase, focusing on the essentials. Socks, underwear, jeans and sweaters. She glanced at her jewelry box, hesitated and opened the top, grabbing a few pairs of earrings.

Figuring her three minutes were up, she hurried down the hall to the living room to find Morgan righting her furniture, and William re-shelving her books.

“I’m ready,” she said.

But she wasn’t. She’d miss her place, the smell of garlic drifting through her window from the Italian restaurant downstairs, eating whole-wheat muffins and drinking tea in her cozy kitchen nook. It was a small, utilitarian apartment, but it had been her home for the past four years. She’d decided to get a small, live tree this year, and invite people from work over for a Christmas brunch.

“Okay, let’s go.” Morgan motioned William and Julie to stay behind him.

“He seems to know what he’s doing,” William said, nodding at Morgan.

“He should. He’s a cop.”

Morgan’s instincts were on red alert. The break-in indicated that not only did they want something, but he suspected they probably hadn’t found it.

And they’d keep coming.

He fought back the panic at the thought of Julie being home when the intruders had broken in. But she wasn’t. She was safe, in Port Whisper.

“Where are you staying?” William asked as they stepped outside.

“I—”

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Morgan interrupted.

“If you think that’s best.”

“It is, for your own safety,” Morgan clarified.

William and Julie hugged and Morgan found himself wanting to step between them, tell them to break it up. He was being ridiculous.

“Stay in touch,” William said.

“I will.”

William reached out to shake Morgan’s hand.

“Take care of her,” William said.

“I plan to.”

With a nod, William turned and walked toward First Avenue North. Morgan reached for Julie’s bag. “Here, let me.”

She handed it to him and they headed for his truck.

“Jules, we have to figure out what they were looking for in your apartment.”

“Maybe the files I took with me? I don’t know what else it could be. I’m just glad Andy is—” She hesitated. “I was going to say I’m glad he’s okay, but we don’t really know that, do we?”

“At least we can hope he’s alive.”

Morgan put her bag in the trunk and scanned the area one last time.

“Since we’re in Seattle, weren’t you going to stop by and see your dad?” she asked.

He motioned for her to get into the car. Morgan hadn’t thought about Dad these past twenty hours. His mind had been too focused on keeping Julie safe.

They pulled out and he considered her question. “I wasn’t going to.”

“But you’re in the city. I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”

“Us. I’m not leaving you alone, Jules. You sure you’re up to a hospital visit?”

“Of course. It’s the right thing to do as long as we’re here.”

“We’ll make it a quick one. Dad will understand.”

Morgan headed to the hospital, wondering what Dad’s reaction would be to Morgan walking in with Julie by his side. Dad had always liked Julie, that is, until she’d left Morgan. It brought all of Dad’s resentment to the surface of being abandoned by his own wife.
She’s a spoiled, self-centered female, just like your mother.
His bitter words hadn’t helped Morgan heal from the betrayal. They had rekindled his anger. Over and over again.

Morgan fought back the memory. Had to redirect his train of thought.

“Tell me about that William guy,” he asked.

“He’s been with Teen Life for twenty years, can you believe that?”

“Dedicated man.”

“And so good with the teenagers. But I think he’s tired, burning out.”

“Is he married?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“He’s divorced, actually. I never really understood that. He’s a very kind and gentle man.”

“You two are close?” Morgan asked

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just making conversation.”

“You’re jealous,” she said teasingly, a slight smile curling her lips.

“I have no right to be jealous of anything you do.”

Her smile faded and she glanced out the side window. Had he hurt her feelings somehow? Why? He was only stating the truth.