Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) (28 page)

He shook his head as if he hadn’t been worried. “Figured I’d keep the motel guests safe from you. You’re not always the best marksman.”

“I hit the target when it counts.”

“Eventually.”

Feeling heat rise in her cheeks under his gaze, she glanced toward her brother who escorted a frowning Amber toward the squad car.

“I told you my story,” Amber said, twisting to look up at him.

“You can tell us again at the station,” Rick said.

“Am I being arrested?” she asked.

“Questioned.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I want an attorney.”

“Why?” Jake asked, approaching. “You’re not being detained, just questioned.”

She swiped a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “I remember how it went the last time. I want an attorney.”

“I haven’t arrested you.”

She shook her head as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. “I don’t care. I’m not saying a word without an attorney.”

“You have one you can call?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Rachel Wainwright.”

Jake’s head cocked. “The wife of the chief of homicide?”

“She’s a defense attorney. One of the best and she takes on people who can’t pay.”

“You’ve done some homework.”

She swiped away a tear, her gaze chilling. “I wasn’t coming back to this town ill prepared.”

Amber had invoked her right to counsel and there was little Jake could do but call Rachel Wainwright.

* * *

Defense attorney Rachel Wainwright arrived at the Nashville Homicide Department an hour later. Her low heels clicked on the tile floor as her long legs made up the distance under the glow of a fluorescent light. She received the call from Detective Jake Bishop that a woman he was holding for questioning was refusing to answer questions without an attorney present. She quickly ran a comb through her short dark hair and changed into dark slacks and a black V-neck sweater.

She didn’t like approaching a case cold but she’d get up to speed quickly. She picked up a visitor badge at the front desk and made her way to a double mirror that looked into a holding room where Jake Bishop and Rick Morgan sat opposite a slender blonde, who could only be described as angelic. Whereas the lighting made most look sallow, her skin glowed a faint pink. She wasn’t handcuffed. Sitting in front of her was a half-eaten sandwich and a can of diet soda. She’d not lived in Nashville when Amber Ryder had found herself in trouble five years ago and could only imagine the fear running through a teenaged girl’s mind when confronted with questions from an army of cops and reporters.

Rachel knocked on the door, then opened it. Jake and Rick stood.

Jake politely nodded. “Rachel, thanks for coming.”

She acknowledged Jake and Rick, but shifted her attention to the blonde. “Amber Ryder?”

The pale woman rose. “That’s right.”

“I’m Rachel Wainwright. I understand you need an attorney?”

She looked up with blue eyes as pale as a clear lake. “Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”

Rachel liked and respected Jake and Rick, but she was here as a defense attorney and not as a friend of the family. “Gentlemen, if you will give me some privacy with my client.”

Jake glanced at Amber, who stared up at him with wide, worried eyes.

Amber shook her head. “They can stay. I’ve nothing to hide, but I want an attorney present. You’ve heard about my past with the law.”

“Bits and pieces,” Rachel said. Most of what she heard had been from her husband, Deke Morgan. And as much as she loved that man, he was a cop first and she often did not completely share his view of the police.

Jake’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen before frowning. “It’s the hospital. Would you excuse me?”

“Sure,” Rachel said. He ducked out of the room.

Rachel motioned for Amber to sit and she took the chair across from her. “Is there anything you need?”

Amber tugged at the hem of her sleeve. “I want to see Mrs. Reed. She’ll be worried about me.”

Rachel looked up at Rick. “Detective?”

His stance stiffened just a fraction. “I can call her.”

Amber flexed her fingers. “I don’t want her to hear my story from a cop. I want her to hear it from me. She needs to see me and know I’m innocent.”

“Why not your mother?” Rick asked.

Amber looked at Rachel with watery eyes. “My mother can’t help. Is it so unreasonable for me to see Mrs. Reed?”

Rachel tapped short plain fingernails on the table. “Detective? It’s not an unreasonable request.”

Rick frowned, but before he could answer, the door opened to a scowling Jake.

“That was the hospital,” Jake said.

“How is Tim?” Amber asked.

“Still alive,” Jake said. “A miracle, considering the injuries, but he’s in surgery right now.”

“So he’s going to live?” Amber’s tentative smile beamed hope and worry.

Jake slid his hands into his pockets. “Docs say he’s a tough guy. It could go either way.”

She lowered her face to her hands. A sigh shuddered through her before she looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tearing. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Rachel pulled out a legal pad and pen. “Detectives, I need a moment with my client.”

“Sure,” Jake said.

When the door closed behind them, Rachel looked at Amber. “Tell me what happened.” Amber recounted her story, starting with Tim calling and asking her to meet him at the motel.

The story was tight. Made sense.

Rachel had defended her share of the guilty. She never judged, believing in every person’s right to a fair trial. Some of her guilty clients had been bad liars. Some had been very skilled. Over the last few years she had developed a knack for ferreting them out. She needed to know fast where she stood with a client’s defense. Every citizen in Nashville would be following this case.

But with Amber, she couldn’t get a read. Everything about the woman spoke of truth. The mannerisms. The inflection in her voice. Even the way she looked at Rachel as she spoke. All signs of telling the truth.

But a very small twist in her gut belied the body language and the words. The woman could be hiding something, but that didn’t mean she had intended to shoot Tim. Hiding one secret didn’t mean she was guilty of another. She couldn’t pinpoint what Amber held back, but there was something. The trick now was to figure out what her client was hiding.

 

G
eorgia accepted a cup of coffee from Jake as the two stood outside the interview room while Rachel talked to Amber. “Have you been able to get ahold of Mrs. Reed?”

“No,” Jake said. “She’s not answering her cell and she’s not at her home. Which does not make sense given the time. We’re looking for her.”

She dug her fingernail into the side of the Styrofoam. “Do you think Amber knew she was Marlowe’s kid when they slept together?”

“Says a lot about her if she did.” Jake shook his head. “No wonder the guy looked like he could jump out of his skin when he was close to her.”

She glanced into her cup. “So how bad is Tim?”

“Pretty bad,” he said sipping his coffee.

“On a scale of one to ten.”

“Ten being dead?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He stared over the brim of his cup. “He’s a ten.”

“What?” A frown furrowed her brow. “How long have you known?”

“He died at the scene. The IV and the ambulance were all theater. I didn’t tell you because you had to buy into it completely so I could sell it to Amber.”

There had never been any hint of Jake’s deception until this moment. “So you just basically told a huge fat lie.”

He grimaced as if she’d insulted him. “A little white lie in my book. And when it’s a homicide investigation, all bets are off.”

She glanced toward her brother who looked perfectly content as he read a text on his phone. “Rick, did you know?” she asked

Without glancing up, he typed a message. “Pleading the Fifth.”

“Damn it.” She punched her brother in the arm. “What are you two trying to accomplish?”

“If Amber shot Tim in self-defense as she said, then she’ll continue to be glad he’s alive,” Jake said. “All her lying and the reports of promiscuity could be a result of her relationship with Dalton.

“But if she meant to shoot Tim, then she’ll be worried he will discredit her story. He might just tell us that he helped her kill Mike and Bethany five years ago. He might know something about Elisa. He has an alibi for her death, but he knows a lot more than we do. She’s going to be really worried about him talking to us.”

Georgia dealt in forensic facts. She collected data. Analyzed data. She was black and white. And all this was too very gray for her. “And if she didn’t mean to shoot him?”

“Then she’ll go on as an innocent woman would, and we will tell her the bad news in a day or two. She’s smart and if she held to her amnesia story for five years, she’s not going to be easy to crack.”

Rick rose. “I’m going to walk the halls and call Jenna. I want to check on the baby.”

“How’s she doing?” In the chaos of the day she’d forgotten about the child.

Rick grinned. “She’s doing really well. Jenna is in love.”

“Carrie had no family,” Georgia said.

“I know. I’ve got Rachel looking into it all.”

She cocked her head. “Does that mean you’re going to keep Sara?”

“We sure are going to try. The Big House hasn’t been the same since you were there to terrorize it.” The Big House had belonged to their parents and all during her childhood had been filled with laughter, the scent of her mother’s cooking, and occasionally her own tantrums.

When Rick left, Georgia’s gaze nailed Jake. “You don’t play fair.”

“No, I don’t,” he said with no hint of apology. He leaned closer and said, “But I have been more than fair with you.”

She glanced around, half expecting to see Rick or Deke, before she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re such a brave little solider for dealing with me.”

“I’ll have it no other way.” He rested his hands on her hips. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You scared the hell out of me today.”

She folded her arms. “I was doing my job.”

“Don’t give me that. You took a reckless chance.” He shoved out a breath as if he caught himself doing what he’d promised he would not.

“I thought you liked my independence.”

“You’re great on the job, and we all know you’re a badass who can take care of business. But it’s not a sin to need someone else every so often.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know what to say.”

His gaze darkened with disappointment. “Life is too damn short. Stop trying to muscle it alone.”

She moved out of his embrace, stepping back a step. “Ah, where’s the fun if there’s no challenge?”

Before he could respond, Rick returned to the room and held up a picture of Jenna holding the baby. “I thought you might like to see this.”

Georgia smiled. “Very nice, Daddy.”

He clicked off the phone. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Any word from Rachel or Amber?”

Jake turned his attention from Georgia. “Waiting on Rachel. She’s still talking to her client.”

“You really think Tim wanted to hurt Amber?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know.”

“So what do we do now?” Georgia asked, her voice more hoarse than she expected.

Jake took a sip of coffee. “I’ll be doing a little asking around about Tim for the next few hours, and then I’m going to turn Amber loose and see what she does.”

* * *

Jake and Rick arrived at St. Vincent school just before seven. The campus was just beginning to stir, and the principal’s office was open. Jake called the principal and asked if Mrs. Garfield would be willing to talk to them again. She agreed.

They found Principal Byrd and Mrs. Garfield in the front office alone, drinking coffee. When the detectives entered, the two educators set down their cups and moved to the counter where several yellowed files were stacked.

“Thank you for seeing us,” Jake said.

Mrs. Garfield shook her head. “We were so sorry to hear about Tim and Amber. What a terrible thing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake said.

Principal Byrd opened the first file. “We were thinking about your questions about Amber and Tim and if there was a connection between them in high school. I asked Mrs. Garfield to pull all the photos taken for the yearbooks the years those four were here.”

She thumbed through the photos. “I was the faculty advisor for the yearbook for several years and all the students brought their candid stills to me so I could consider them for the yearbook. To encourage the children to take pictures, we gave out weekly prizes for the best photo. You can imagine with most of the children having cameras on their phones how many pictures we got.” She adjusted her glasses and grinned. “Not all of them were ready for primetime if you know what I mean. A tad racy.”

Jake grinned. “High school never really changes.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “Regardless, after you called the principal, I spent this morning going through photos specifically looking for Amber, Tim, Bethany, and Mike. As it turned out, I’d pulled many of Bethany and Mike because we’d decided to do a tribute page to them in this year’s edition.”

She lifted a stack and laid them out much like a casino deals cards. “They are in chronological order, starting with freshman year, which as you can see is mostly pictures of Tim and Mike. They both played football and it was natural that they be photographed more.”

Jake surveyed the pictures, noting the two boys looked clean cut and all-American. In several photos, Tim had his arm around Mike and the two, wearing football jerseys, were laughing. There was only one candid of Bethany. She was in the campus garden planting flowers, smiling shyly up at the camera. As he stared at the young girl he thought about the bones laid out in the cold, damp cave. It took a twisted kind of evil to hurt someone that innocent.

“There are a few pictures of Amber beginning junior year. Most of them are on the sidelines at the football games in the fall.” She tapped one. “Amber is standing behind the cheerleaders here, and if you look closely, you’ll see Mr. Marlowe off to her right.”

Jake studied the picture of Daddy Marlowe. “He’s glaring at her.”

“Yes, he is,” she said. “Looking at this I remember once crossing the parking lot to my car one evening and I saw the two of them talking. He wasn’t touching her, but the way he leaned forward was aggressive. Angry even.”

Knowing what he knew now about their relationship, his resentment made sense. He’d slept with Amber. Thought he was having an affair with a cute young girl and then he finds out she is his underage daughter. “When was she accepted to the school?”

The principal reached for a pad filled with notes. “She was accepted only about a week before the start of school. Last-minute add-ons are not the norm, so I looked up her file. Dalton Marlowe expedited her application.”

Had she blackmailed him into getting her a spot in the school? It would explain much of his behavior.

Mrs. Garfield picked up the remaining junior year pictures and laid them out. “As you can see, more pictures of Mike and Amber. She’s with him a lot of time at lunch, in the hallways, at the school play, and by the football field. They are clearly a couple.”

“What about Tim?”

“Not so many pictures of him. And the ones we have, he’s not with Mike much, and if he is, he’s not smiling.” She picked up the third stack. “There are quite a few candids of Amber and Bethany. Amber seems to be involved in the clubs. She and Mike are still caught on film together in the spring but not as much. And,” she said, flipping more pictures, “she’s with Tim a few times.”

The photos were taken from the bleachers and shooting down on Tim and Amber who are standing so close they are touching. She is touching his chest and his hand is cupping her bottom. Amber’s hair was dark and long in high school, but even then, she had a dark, smoky, seductive look that would have made every boy at that school look twice and dream of having her. However, what really struck him was Tim’s appearance. Long hair. Beard. He didn’t look anything like the young conservative man on the rise. He looked like the guy in Texas who was a person of interest in the murder investigation.

Rick exchanged a glance with Jake. “When was that picture taken?”

“The spring of their junior year,” Mrs. Garfield said. “Their ill-fated trip was six months later.”

“Do you know much about Tim’s family?” Jake asked.

“Old Nashville family,” Principal Byrd said. “Father passed away a couple of years ago and mother travels a great deal. It was always assumed, according to his guidance counselor’s records, that he would go to law school.”

Mrs. Garfield showed them one last junior year picture. It was of Amber and Mike. But in the background Tim was glaring at them both. His expression looked dark and angry.

Jake tapped the image with his finger. “If looks could kill.”

* * *

Georgia’s cell rang minutes after she entered her apartment after a long night at the police station. She’d dropped her bag and was staring into an empty refrigerator as she fished the cell out of her back pocket. Her front doorbell rang and she moved toward the door and opened it without much thought.

She found herself face to face with Amber, who stood there holding a tissue to her nose. Her watery eyes were wide and bloodshot and her nose red as if she’d been crying.

Tension chilled Georgia’s skin. “Amber?”

Amber sniffed, dabbing her nose. “I didn’t know what else to do. Where to go.”

She gripped the door. “I thought you were going back to Mrs. Reed’s house. You said you wanted to see her.”

“I did go back to her house and she’s not there. I don’t know where she is and I’m in a panic.”

Jake had released Amber during the early morning hours as he’d promised. Now was the big test. Was she a victim or a killer? “Where is your mother?”

“I don’t know. She should have gotten home by now.”

She stepped aside, allowing the woman to enter. Had she found out about Tim? “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”

“I’m fine. I’m exhausted.” A sigh shuddered through her. “I just needed a place to catch my breath. And to figure out my next move.”

“Next move?” Georgia closed the door. So why was she here? “Have a seat.”

Amber settled on the couch, leaning back and studying her for a moment. “Rachel was able to convince them to release me. She took me to see Mrs. Reed. I searched the whole house for her and when I couldn’t find her, I got a cab here.”

Nothing she said sounded wrong. But she always had a good explanation. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? Maybe a bagel?”

“That would be great. I’m starving.”

She moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of bottled waters. She twisted off the top of one and handed it to Amber. From the freezer she removed frozen bagels and placed them in the microwave. “How’s Tim?”

“Detective Bishop said he was improving.” She sipped, drinking for several seconds. “I called the hospital on the way over here, but they won’t release any information. They can only give out information to family. His mother was always in Europe this time of year, so I’m guessing they’re trying to find her now.”

“That’s standard with hospitals. It’s against the law for them to release confidential patient information.”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes for a moment. “I never thought that life would repeat itself and I’d be back in this damn town defending myself again. I only came back here to find answers.”

Georgia watched Amber twist a thread on the hem of her shirt around her finger and tighten it until the tip of her finger turned red. “You shot Tim in self-defense and the cops will piece it together. Jake and Rick are fair and smart and they’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She rubbed her fingers against the darkening bruise on her cheek. “Tim is crazy. He was obsessed with me in high school. Obsessed. I was with Mike and he hated it. Several times I caught him standing outside my bedroom window.”