Grave Secrets (12 page)

Sara still sat behind the wheel. Forgetting the folder on his desk, he watched and waited. Despite the hell she must be going through, she still kept her feet on the ground. However, underneath her prim and proper exterior, there was something else going on. He just wasn’t sure what. She’d been awfully skittish when they’d walked into her dark house. Well, until he’d kissed her. Then the woman came alive.

Finally the car door opened, and she stepped out. She wore low heels, a knee length skirt, and had incredible legs. Too bad she didn’t wear skirts more often. His gaze traveled up the suit, appreciating the still loose but snugger fit, a vast improvement over the baggy clothes she’d previously worn.

She glanced at something in her hand, probably his business card, then back at the building. She took a deep breath and raised her chin, which he’d learned meant she didn’t like what she was going to do but would do it anyway. She closed the car door and practically marched to his office, albeit stiffly. Because of her cut up knees, he suspected. She never ceased to surprise him.

He rose, leaving his suit jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and headed to the outer office. He could already hear Charlene’s cheery voice greeting Sara. Charlene treated everyone the same, regardless of their walks of life. Which was one of the reasons he’d hired the woman. Well, that and because she wouldn’t take no for an answer when she’d applied for a position. From then on, she’d simply taken charge as if she owned the place. He grinned at the memory.

He stopped and peered around the partially open hallway door where he could see the two women, yet out of their sight. He was curious as to why Sara Adams had brought herself to his side of town.

“—the best coffee in town. I grind it myself, so I should know,” Charlene said.

She was five-feet-ten and rock solid—sturdy, some people would have said—yet her voice held an innocent quality that put people instantly at ease. That was another reason she was so good.

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Sara smiled back at Charlene and at the same time shifted her gaze around the office. “This is very nice. I wasn’t expecting it to be so...”

Charlene barked a laugh. “Yeah. Fools ya, don’t it? Especially for a strip mall. Took a bit of doin’ but I think we pulled it off fairly well. At least you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.” She gestured toward the silk plant in the ceramic pot, the results of a dumpster diving expedition.

Sara’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled—a genuine smile and not one of those tight forced ones he’d seen her give far too often. Her faced softened, and she seemed younger. “The office looks very nice.”

“Thanks. Morgan couldn’t have done it without me.” She leaned forward and whispered loudly, as if she didn’t know he was standing on the other side of the door listening. “Do me a favor and don’t tell him that. He thinks everything was his idea.”

He’d agree he couldn’t have decorated the place without her. She had slowly but surely made the small office space, if not elegant, then about as close as you could get. In fact, he’d stack it up against the best upscale offices in town. Charlene believed the first impression was the best, so she’d made sure the furnishings were good, even if they were mostly second hand. If any of the furniture had been scratched, she had either buffed it out, placed a plant over it, or positioned the piece where the scratch didn’t show. The woman was a whiz. He’d give her a raise, except knowing her, she’d probably already done it.

“Is Mr. Daniels in?” Sara’s face returned to the taut expression she’d had when she’d walked in the door.

If she didn’t want to be here, why had she come?

Charlene raised her eyebrows and turned her head in the direction of the hallway without taking her eyes off Sara. She leaned across her desk and whispered loudly again, “Yes. I believe he’s available. I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you need to let him know I’m here?”

“Oh, he knows. You can count on it.”

Morgan shook his head. There was never a dull moment in the office. “I’ll take it from here, Charlene. Thank you,” he said when he stepped from behind the door and into the lobby.

The woman snorted.

At the sound of his voice, Sara jerked as if she’d been shot. “You do have a tendency to sneak up on people, don’t you, Mr. Daniels?”

“I thought we’d gotten past the formalities. It’s Morgan. Remember?” What happened to the casual tone they’d shared the night he’d taken her to dinner? And the way she’d held onto him while he searched her house? Damn it. What about the kiss she couldn’t seem to get enough of? Why was she so standoffish?

“Which is one of the things that make him so good,” Charlene interjected. “He’s a sneaky son-of-a-gun.”

“Sure don’t get much past you, though,” he muttered.

She’d already turned her attention back to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “No. And you won’t, either. Which is one of the things that make
me
so good, boss man.”

Morgan sighed. One of these days, he’d learn he could never win with that woman. “Come on back,” he said to Sara. He led her to his office, which was furnished as well as the reception area. Except for the picture of a woman from the 1940’s, wearing a skirt and sitting on a motorcycle as she lit a cigarette. He liked the sassy broad, refusing to get rid of it despite Charlene’s insistence it totally detracted from the rest of the décor.

He offered Sara a chair across from his desk as he closed the door between them and the big ears of his receptionist, then took his own seat. Not for the first time, he was glad Charlene had found the mahogany desk and leather chairs at a company moving out of town and needing to liquidate their furnishings. Kept his office from looking like a gum-shoe operated out of it.

“How are you—”

“I wanted—”

They both spoke at the same time. An almost uncomfortable silence followed.

It’d been several days since he’d seen her, and he couldn’t help but notice the circles under her eyes were getting darker. Was she not sleeping well? It would be understandable with all that was going on in her life right now. People handled stress differently, and he was certainly in no position to judge how someone else dealt with a crisis. Right now, his anger and self-loathing was what kept him going. “Ladies first,” he said at last.

She threw him a timid grin. “I enjoyed dinner the other night. It was a very...unusual experience.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I was hoping you wouldn’t be put off by Slim’s atmosphere. Not everyone is comfortable there.”

“I can see why. It is rather, um, different. The food was delicious, though. As promised.”

He chuckled, the sound almost rusty, as if he didn’t do it much. Which he hadn’t. Not lately anyway. Not since Andy’s death.

She paused, almost—but not quite—fidgeting in the chair. “I also appreciate your checking the house for me after we got home.”

After we got home.
That had a nice ring to it. He wouldn’t mind having someone like her to go home to every night. To greet him at the door of a nice little ranch style house, with a kid or two running around. To be able to share his day and hear about hers. Someone to wake up with every morning and know you were her world.

But not her. Sara Adams was still in the running as a murder suspect as far as he was concerned. But damn if she wasn’t sexy as hell and not even trying. “No problem.”

“I—I just wanted you to know I’m not normally that spooked. It’s just since, well, for the last couple days I’ve been having, um...”

He leaned forward slightly, remembering that blood curdling scream she never fully explained and her reluctance to walk into her home alone. Surely that hadn’t been the first time she’d gone home alone when there weren’t any lights on. Had she been as scared then as she had been the night they’d gone to Slim’s?

“Having what?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said as she waved her hand in the air dismissively. “My nerves have been on edge lately and I haven’t fully gotten back on my feet. Not after what, uh, what happened at the cemetery. Normally I’m very much in control.”

She was being evasive. Again. “How are the knees?”

“Healing nicely, thank you. I’ll be good as new in no time.” She reached down and gingerly ran a hand over one knee. “The clothes, on the other hand, didn’t fare so well. I had to discard them.”

“Hmm.” Only a woman would think about the clothes rather than the importance of her injuries. Today she wore a charcoal gray suit with a light colored top that only emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. So far he hadn’t seen her in anything she didn’t look good in, even if all she’d worn had been business suits. What would it be like to see her out of the prim and proper suit, to explore every inch of her creamy skin? His mind went down a path he had no business traveling. Once started, though, he couldn’t stop. What was the color of her lacy bra, and did it have matching panties? The image of her peeking out from under her eyelashes, a wicked grin on her lips as she stood in nothing but her underwear and high heels resulted in a very uncomfortable hard on.

“Actually, that isn’t why I came.”

Her voice cut through the fantasies, forcing him to face the reality of the here and now. He leaned back in the chair, waiting for her to continue as he attempted to gain control of his libido before he had to stand.

“I’m sure you’re a busy man...”

When she hesitated and he couldn’t stand it any longer, he blurted, “Just say it.” Charlene had told him to work on his people skills. Obviously he wasn’t making much progress. Not today, anyway.

Something flared in Sara’s eyes, but she masked it. She stilled her nervous hands, tilting her chin up again before she spoke. “I’d like to hire you to find my daughter. I’m sure this wouldn’t interfere with your other investigation.”

Was she serious? Apparently so from the expression on her face. “Mrs. Adams—Sara—I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure it would be ethical of me to—”

“Please.”

Her eyes pleaded with him for a long moment, and his heart lurched.

“Morgan, time is running out. I can feel it.”

He frowned before schooling his features back to the mask he normally wore. “There are other P.I.’s in town. I can give you a few names.” Why did she want him in particular? Was it so she could throw him off his primary investigation?

“I’ve tried others, several in fact. No one has had any luck.”

“And you think I will?”

“You’re my last hope,” she whispered. Her chin quivered once before she sucked in a breath.

His first instinct was to tell her flat out no, but he held back the refusal as a thought occurred to him. If he took her case, even though it was a good possibility the missing baby had already been found in the father’s grave, he could get closer to her. Find out what he needed to know about her husband’s and Andy’s deaths.

He scrubbed a hand across his face, swiveled to look out the window and contemplated her ulterior motive. Maybe it was to distract him, as if he weren’t distracted enough by her, by the kiss he’d started. There was no way, though, he could take her case—not and still remain objective about the murders. She’d have to find someone else. Satisfied he’d made the right decision, he turned to face her.

“I’ll do it.”

What the hell was he doing? Maybe he’d agreed because the thought of a kid out there without its mother ate at him. His own mother had cared but was buried so far in herself, she couldn’t be the kind of mom she wanted, or that he needed. He knew, because she’d told him just days before she killed herself. Even at ten years old, Morgan had blamed himself for not being able to stop her.

Sara let out a huge sigh, and her face lost the stoic composure from a moment before. “Oh, thank God. How soon can you start?”

“You haven’t heard my fees.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll pay any amount—do whatever it takes to get my baby back.”

Spending the insurance money before they ask you to return it? Instead of voicing his thoughts, he pulled a legal pad out of the side drawer of his desk, flipping it to a clean page. Silently kicking his own butt again, he asked, “What’s her name?”

Scooting to the edge of the chair, she peered over the desk, hope gleamed in her eyes. “Kaycee, spelled K-A-Y-C-E-E. I know she’s alive, Morgan. I just know it. I can feel her.” She paused, her fist clutched over her heart. Tears formed in her eyes. She swallowed hard as her chin quivered.

Sara Adams was determined to prove everyone wrong. She might be the one disappointed in the end, but with those big doe-shaped eyes silently pleading with him, he couldn’t turn her down. He tore his gaze away and concentrated on the paper in front of him. In his bold scrawl, he wrote
Kaycee Adams Investigation
at the top and dated it.

“You’re now officially on the clock,” he said as he looked at his wristwatch, noted the time, then drew his gaze back to her. He’d ask questions even the police hadn’t thought to ask and would have her entire life history before she walked out of his office. Exactly what he’d wanted all along.

Sara leaned back in her chair. The tension and worry that had etched her features moments ago were gone. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

She smiled sweetly. “You will. I know it.”

The pressure on his shoulders increased. Her complete trust in him unnerved him—threw him off guard. Suddenly he wanted to believe the kid really was alive. Somewhere. He swore to himself. What kind of sucker had he become?

She sat the large purse she’d been gripping on the floor and turned those big blue eyes on him. Waiting.

Suddenly, he realized he was sitting there like an idiot. As a distraction, he picked up the phone and pushed a button. “Charlene, hold my calls.” Like she would interrupt him while he was with someone. His ears burned as she scolded him for treating her as unprofessional, then she hung up on him. He smiled to himself as he dropped the phone back in the cradle. Finally able to get a grip, he refocused on Sara, pen held just above the tablet.