Dangerous Secrets (34 page)

‶
Morgan, I need to know what is
going on. I can′t help you if you won′t tell me the truth.″

‶
The truth!″ she burst
out, swiveling in her seat to look at him.
‶
What about telling me the
truth? What about leveling with me? For the past twelve years you′ve been
privileged to my life, every aspect of it, and why? I′m a nobody. Yet
you, and God knows who else, can diagram my life like it was a complex
sentence.″

‶
Not totally,″ he
contradicted her, using a calm voice, when he again wanted to grab her and make
her understand the life he thought so much about was in danger. But he′d
hurt her emotions, not just hurt them, trampled over them, riding roughshod
like some cowboy outlaw. She wasn′t one of the scum of the earth he was
used to dealing with, and he wasn′t immune to her.

He touched her hand. She pulled it away.
‶
Morgan,
I′m concerned about you.″ She looked at him men.
‶
Why
is someone trying to kill you?″

‶
I don′t know.″ Her
answer seemed serious, honest. Jack decided not to push her. She had something
or she knew something. He had to give her time to trust him enough to want to
tell him the truth. He only hoped whoever was trying to kill her would wait
that long, however long that turned out to be.

‶
All right.″ He changed
the subject.
‶
We
have to ditch this car.″

‶
Why? It′s faster than
anything we could rent or steal.″

‶
It′s been made. That guy
in the helicopter had plenty of time to get the make, model and color, not to
mention the license tag number.″

‶
He′ll get nowhere with
that.″

She surprised him again. She′d taken
extreme precautions to make sure she could survive. From the looks of her
plans, she expected to be alone, dependent on no one and nothing but her own
resourcefulness. Suddenly he felt sad. He knew what her life had been like on
the streets and since, but it was a paper life, unreal, a dossier to be
computer tagged and filed, read by privileged eyes only. What had it done to
the person sitting beside him?

‶
Morgan, you′re not alone
this time. I′m here.″ His fingers stroked the back of her hand. A
few seconds later his fingers closed around her hand. Her thumb moved across
his palm. The gesture was small, only a mere brush of her finger, but for
Morgan it was a step the size of the Grand Canyon. She didn′t work in a
team. She trusted no one and relied on no one. She was a loner, just as he was.
Even her choice of sport, gymnastics, was a solitary event There were six women
on the United States team, and while they could only win the gold medal for
their country based on the combined scores of the group, the individual
performance was the rate at which they were judged. Yet simply running her
thumb over his hand, wrapping five long slender fingers around that of another
human being, was like a scream. And he was here to make sure that scream was
heard.

Chapter 6

Janine Acres sat at a table in the bar in the
Continental terminal of Atlanta International Airport sipping a Margarita.
She′d had it shaken and salt generously applied to the lip of the glass.
For an airport bartender, used to adding water to scotch or tonic to gin, the
man made a masterpiece of a Margarita. Janine loved them, but rarely drank any.
They killed too many brain cells, and she often needed all her brain cells to
cope with training the future gymnasts of the world.

She smiled at the thought. This was what she
and Allie had joked about doing when they trained together. They were going to
become coaches and have a school that turned out only Olympic-class gymnasts.

Janine checked her watch. Where was Allie?
Alicia Tremaine. On the team, she had been Jan and Alicia was Allie. Life
hadn′t quite given them their dreams, but it hadn′t squashed them
either. Not like they were doing to Morgan Kirkwood.

Janine owned and directed a gymnastics school
and camp in Clay, West Virginia. When Allie finished competitive gymnastics,
she landed a job commentating on sports at a major cable station. Since then
she′d gone on to acting and now starred in a television sitcom. That′s
what probably held her up, Janine thought. It was hard enough to reach her by
phone. Even by cell phone. You had to go through a ton of secretaries and
assistants before getting to her, then she had so little time to talk. But when
Janine mentioned the news report on Morgan, the two agreed to meet.

As Janine checked her watch for the third time,
Allie appeared in the doorway. Who would have thought that skinny kid, who
tried to hide in the doorway of the gymnastics class, would become the
head-turner of stage, screen and television? Janine watched her approach,
noting the men at the bar swiveling around with interest as she passed them.
Allie seemed not to notice them as she scanned the area. Janine stood up as her
friend approached. They hugged, covering the years of absence that kept them
apart.

‶
I ordered you a drink. I hope
it isn′t too watery,″ Janine said.

‶
I guess that′s my cue to
apologize for being late,″ Allie said, slipping into her chair.
‶
I
apologize.″

Janine suddenly smiled.
‶
Allie, you′re
going to be late for your own funeral.″

The tension that Janine felt somehow eased. She
licked the salt rim and took a drink. Allie swished the straw in her scotch.

‶
How have you been?″ Allie
began.

‶
Fine. The school is going well.
I have more students than I can handle.″

‶
And you love it,″ Allie
said.

Janine grinned.
‶
I admit it. I do.″ Then
she turned serious.
‶
You know Morgan loaned me the money to begin the
school. She even donated some of the equipment. I still have it. I don′t
know how it would ever have gotten off the ground without her.″

‶
I didn′t know that. What
happened to the endorsement money you received?″

‶
Spent.″

‶
Janine, you spent it all? On
what?″

Janine wasn′t that proud of her past.
‶
Parties,
high living, family.″ She frowned.
‶
Suddenly I was no longer young,
no longer a darling, endorsements went to someone else. I spent like there was
no tomorrow and then it
was
tomorrow.
The only person who knew was Morgan. She came through with the loan and the
school was born.″

‶
Morgan was always
friendly.″ The sarcasm wasn′t lost on Janine. Morgan was anything
but
friendly. She was cautious, staying
by herself, waiting, hanging back, looking to see when someone would spring at
her.

‶
I′ve been thinking about
that recently,″ Janine said.

‶
What? How friendly Morgan
was?″

‶
Remember that last six months,
before we left for Korea? Morgan became a different person.″

‶
It was the pressure. She wanted
to win and she wasn′t the favorite. We all knew it. And our coach kept
harping on it during every practice session.″ Allie took a sip of her
drink.

‶
That was only psychological
pressure. He thought she′d work harder. She was exactly that kind of
person. Tell her she can′t do something and she′ll find a
way.″

‶
She sure did,″ Allie
confirmed.
‶
It
surprised the hell out of me when she went through that routine on the beam.
I′d never seen anything like that before.″

‶
She did pull a big rabbit out
of her hat that night.″ Jan hesitated.
‶
But before that, during the
training, I thought her nerves were on edge too, but I don′t think so
anymore.″

‶
Why?″ Allie asked.
‶
What′s
happened?″

Jan wasn′t sure she knew if anything had
happened. In fact she felt pretty stupid right now for her intuition. It
wasn′t like her to get on a plane and fly three hours for a meeting.
‶
It′s
probably nothing more than coincidence, but after I heard that news report
about her house exploding and no mention of her, I started thinking.″

‶
She couldn′t have been
there. There was only the mention of one body and that wasn′t
Morgan′s.″

‶
Then where is she and why
hasn′t she contacted her friends?″

‶
Janine, when was the last time
Morgan contacted you?″ She waited a second, but the question was
rhetorical. Morgan hadn′t contacted any of them since she got off the
plane from Seoul twelve years ago. Even when she donated the money and
equipment for Janine′s school, she only came once in person. All the
other transactions were between their two lawyers. At the time, Janine thought
it was to save emotion between the two of them. Morgan knew Jan was the sappy
one. Morgan didn′t like to show emotion. Standing on that pedestal with
the tears and
The Star Spangled Banner
playing
had probably been the pouring out of years of pent-up passion. Her body was so
full of holding it in that if she hadn′t done something, she would have
exploded. Morgan′s life had been hard and she didn′t trust people,
but if she could help a friend, she would. Jan knew the Olympic team was
Morgan′s family.

‶
Did Morgan ever say anything to
you?″ Jan asked.

‶
About what?″

‶
About what was going on in
Seoul?″

‶
You mean with that swim coach?
God, he was good-looking.″ Allie smacked her lips together as if she was
appreciating fine food.
‶
What was his name?″ She stared across the
room, concentrating.
‶
Something Jack or Jack something, I can′t
remember, but Morgan said nothing about him. Not a word.″

‶
I don′t mean the coach. I
mean anything about anything?″

Allie shook her head.
‶
Did she say
something to you?″

‶
She mentioned only once that
she didn′t think she would die a normal death.″

Allie put her drink down and leaned forward.
‶
What
does that mean?″ she asked slowly.

‶
I don′t know. She
wouldn′t explain after she said it. In fact, she laughed it off, but you
know Morgan. She was always so serious about everything. I let it go, but now I
wish I hadn′t.″

‶
Do you think we should go to
St. Charles and talk to the local authorities?″

‶
It sounds melodramatic, Allie.
I know that, but I′m afraid something might have happened to her.″

***

Country music poured from the radio, twangy
voices that Morgan had grown to appreciate, detailed lovers losing each other, other
women trying to take your man or gossip in the town that would bring you down,
and women vowing to stand by her man. Morgan heard the messages and understood.
She′d been all those women and knew all the men. Now more than ever she
understood the stories these miniseries told in three-minute bytes. She knew
why she′d taken to them, drowned in the sorrow that each of the women
felt when the man she loved turned and walked away or put his arm around the
blonde and strutted off with a backward glance that said,
you lose.

Jack drove in silence for some time. Morgan
felt as if the air had been damped down. She wouldn′t go so far as to say
cleansed, but she wasn′t angry anymore. She wondered about Jack. What had
his hand on hers meant? Where was this going, not just the car, although she
had no idea where he was heading either, but so far the direction was all
right. She wondered where this entire episode would lead them. Would they
survive it? She had to admit she was glad to have someone with her.

She′d imagined running before. She knew
it would come to this one day, but all her planning had been for one. She never
expected any allies, certainly not the one man who had occupied space in her
closed heart for the past twelve years.

Unbidden, her mind returned to the past. She
thought of him—at the end of the gymnastics arena. Back in a time, a history
they couldn′t relive, couldn′t change.

Morgan stood six feet back from the
springboard. Her heart hammered in her chest Everything about her was wrong.
She was too nervous, her hands were sweaty, her breath came too fast and she
was too aware of the activity in the room. This was her final competition. It
was now or never, she thought. This was the moment she had worked for her
entire life, yet her mind was blank. Where were the words she was going to tell
herself at this moment, where were the song lyrics, the inspirational refrain
that had been part of the opening night ceremonies and was threaded throughout
the last several days as a reminder and inspiration for the years of training
that had brought the athletes to this moment? Where were her affirmations? Even
a mantra would be welcome at this point. Yet she was numb. There was nothing
there except the memory of the last hour clogging her brain, memory of an exercise
gone wrong. What would the director say when he heard the details of her
failure? She didn′t know and didn′t care.

No one expected her to win here anyway.
They′d told her that to her face. She looked at the scoreboard. She
needed to be perfect to win. Why was she even here, even trying? No one was
perfect and they all knew it.

The short distance to the beam looked like a
mile. The springboard only a square in the vastness of the enveloping cavern.
The beam only a ribbon in a sea of blue foam. She took a deep breath and looked
at the crowd. The seats were full, everyone moving, talking, looking at her.
Then they too began to recede. They blurred into a multicolored collage, moving
away from her as if she′d been drugged. Their sound went with them,
reducing in volume until all she heard was a soft rush of a wave coming ashore.

She wasn′t the favorite in this event. If
she lost no one would think anything of it. And after what she′d done
tonight in the prison, it was all she could do to remember her routine. Morgan
closed her eyes and raised herself to her toes. Then she came down again on her
heels. She opened her eyes and found Jack Temple in her direct line of sight.
He stood against the far wall, looking her directly in the eye. She was sure
his mouth curved into a slight smile and that he nodded at her. His strength
gave her motivation. She took that strength, latched onto it, made him her
focus. Going up on her toes again she started her run. She reached the carpeted
springboard. Both feet hit the end at the same time. Using her body weight,
Morgan propelled her long frame into the air. Everything slowed down. She could
see every move, feel everything around her, as if she were in a dream, one in
which she was both spectator and participant. She was aware of her hair, her
ponytail flying about her head, the air in the room pressing against her, the
feel of her leotard against her skin. She swirled around as if she were
performing a synchronized water dance. Tucking her arms close to her body, she
completed her mount to the four-inch, fabric-covered beam with a full-twisting
front flip. Her feet connected with the apparatus with the precision of a
diamond needle cutting through metal. Her knees and ankles locked and she stood
straight and tall playing to the one man whose eyes she could see. The rest of
the sixty thousand people could have been at home with the millions of
spectators around the globe watching this performance. The only one whose
approval she sought as she stood upon the four-inch structure was Jack
Temple′s.

Her routine continued in the same manner as her
mount: slowed down, allowing her to see clearly every twist and turn. Jack
looked on as she went through the splits, the handstands, the tumbles, with
flawless accuracy. She could hear the pounding of her feet and hands as they
made contact, see the small puffs of dust form clouds as she went from one
effortless exercise to the next. Then the dismount loomed before her. It was
the most difficult part of the routine.

Height was the key. Standing at the far end of
the beam, she began the three-step run and bent her knees, then stretched— and
reached for the ceiling, clawing as much air as she could reduce to physical
possession. Climbing into the fluid medium she tucked her body into a ball, tumbled
head over heels twice, then extended herself into a straight missile, locking
her elbows in and twisting her entire frame into a full layout before hitting
the impact-absorbent floor as if her feet had just found the opposite magnetic
pole and once set could not be dislodged without a searing force. Her arms rose
into the air saluting the judge and the crowd.