High-Caliber Holiday (15 page)

SIXTEEN

B
rady watched a nurse prepare Morgan for discharge as he stretched his neck and tried to work out the kinks from a night in the hospital recliner. The nurses had offered to bring him a cot, but he wouldn't have slept much anyway. When he wasn't watching the door for trouble, he'd been pondering Morgan's statement from last night. She'd said she'd go back to her life alone and nothing was going to stand in her way. Nothing.

Her statement shouldn't have had any impact on him, but it had bothered him big-time. Even this morning, as he whittled away on the next snowman, he let her comment run through his head. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want a man in her life. Any man. This was said almost in the same breath as her statement about not caring about money or things. Saying people were all equal in God's eyes.

Bombshell. She didn't care about Brady's past. About the things he'd let mark him all his life. Not physically, but he'd listened to the mean things other kids and people said about him and his mother, and he'd let them define him.

What had he been thinking all these years? Buying into their garbage was like taking poison and expecting the people who hurt him to get sick. But they didn't. They went on with life as if nothing happened. They probably didn't remember the hurt they'd inflicted while he'd let it hold him back. People judging him for his profession could well be the reason he was freezing at the trigger, too. Well, not anymore. God willing.

Can You help me? Help me forget the past. Move forward.

Hopeful for a change in his take on life, he glanced at Morgan. Wished she could get over the same hurt with her father.

And help Morgan do the same thing.

The urge to wrap her in his arms and whisk her out of there, to take her home to the team where she'd feel cared for and valued for who she was, was almost too much for him. He started on the snowman. Slicing hard. Quickly. Furiously. Small strips of wood flew everywhere. Making a mess and he didn't care. All he cared about was releasing his frustrations.

The older nurse turned to look at him. “What are you making?”

He held out the chunk of wood that didn't look like much right now. “Christmas ornaments. I give a boxed set to my friends every year.” He dug a finished snowman from his pocket. “Here's one that's done.”

She took it and studied it. “It's amazing. My grandpa whittled. You don't see many people doing it these days.” As she handed it back, she gave him a pointed look as if asking for more information.

“No, you don't,” Brady responded, but didn't continue though she kept looking at him. He never told people that he'd taken up this particular hobby as a kid because it was free and they couldn't afford all the sporting equipment and things the other kids had to pass the time.

“So, you're almost ready to release Morgan?” He changed the subject.

“Once I get her discharge instructions, she'll be good to go.” She turned her focus back to removing the tape holding Morgan's IV needle.

Brady caught Morgan's attention. “I don't suppose you'd reconsider staying at the firehouse. Skyler and Logan are on their honeymoon and you can stay in their condo. You wouldn't be putting anyone out and you wouldn't have to hang out with all of us if you didn't want to. Though I think it might be good for you to be around people who care about you.”

At the look of surprise on her face, he regretted mentioning the last bit. He hadn't meant to, but she deserved to know there were people in her life who wanted to help her with no strings attached. He could almost see the thoughts running through her head.

“I think staying at the firehouse sounds like a good idea,” she finally said.

Her simple words flooded his heart with happiness. The rush of emotion surprised him, and he needed some breathing room.

He jumped to his feet and headed for the door. “I'll be out in the hallway if you need me.”

“Don't tell me needles make you squeamish?” Morgan teased.

“Nah, they don't bother me,” he said, and pulled open the heavy door without making eye contact.

The way I'm thinking about you is another story.
He let the thought chase him out of the room and hoped it would stop distracting him by the time she was ready to step outside where if they were wrong about Preston, her stalker could be waiting for her.

* * *

Morgan had barely been discharged when she walked into PEA's building, carrying fresh energy drinks made at her apartment. With each step, she wondered if she had the strength or might drop to the ground. The nurse had warned her to take it easy, but Morgan had to deliver the drinks to set up the sting. They could wait a day for her strength to improve, but the search of Preston's home and office turned up nothing, and Rossi was starting to think they were wrong about Preston. That her stalker was still out there. She didn't want to waste a minute trying to put an end to being stalked.

She went straight to the refrigerator and set the neatly labeled drinks on the top shelf, then headed to her cubicle. As much as she knew spending time with Brady wasn't a good idea, she still wished he was with her, giving her the sense of security she always felt when he was around. But he believed it would put her coworkers on edge if he came inside so, instead, he remained in his truck.

Lacy poked her head around the cubicle doorway. “You're back. I didn't think you were supposed to come in yet.”

“I'm not, but I wanted to turn over a few clients to you so they don't fall through the cracks.” Morgan felt as if she was lying to her friend, but technically she wasn't, as she
did
want to check in on her clients.

“You shouldn't have bothered.” Lacy watched Morgan carefully. “I've got everything under control.”

“I'm sure you do, but you know me. Just wanted to double-check.” Morgan nodded at the chair by her desk. “Have a seat, and we'll run through the client list.”

Lacy sat. “Who do you want to talk about first?”

Morgan opened the first client file and they worked down the list until lunchtime. Morgan wasn't hungry, but as Lacy sat back and stretched, her stomach grumbled. The girl had an appetite that would even challenge the men of the FRS.

“I'm planning to order a pizza,” Lacy said. “Will you still be here and want to share it with me?”

“Thanks, but I'm set with this.” Morgan held up her drink. She'd added blueberries this time, making the liquid a bright purple. She wanted the color to tip off her coworkers that she'd made a change.

Nantz walked past the cubicle, then did a double take and backed up. “Blueberry, huh?”

She forced out a laugh. “And here I thought you'd be surprised to see me.”

“That, too, but man, what's in that thing?” He smiled. “It's glowing an alien color.”

She chuckled again, but her mind was all over the fact that he took particular notice of her drink, which is what she'd hoped to accomplish.

“I don't know how she comes up with the combinations.” Lacy mocked a shudder.

Another coworker stopped to welcome her back and soon a small group huddled around her cubicle. She assured them she was fine and when they departed, she settled down to finish the list with Lacy.

Morgan glanced at the clock. Noon. She'd been there long enough, and though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, she was wiped out and needed to rest. She grabbed her belongings. “Thanks for humoring me on the list, Lacy. I'll rest easier. You can reach me on my cell if you need anything.”

“I won't bother you,” Lacy said firmly as they walked to the door together.

“Just don't be afraid to call if you need to.” Morgan stepped into the sunshine, pausing to let it warm her for a moment, then crossed the alley to Brady's truck.

He wore an earpiece and a mic hung on a cord around his neck. He was talking to Jake and Archer, who sat in a carpet-cleaning van down the alley. In addition to placing cameras here, they'd put them in the gym and her apartment, too, and they were monitoring all the camera feeds.

“I'm signing off now to take Morgan home. Call me if anything happens.” He pulled out the earpiece and tossed it into the cupholder.

She buckled her seatbelt and swiveled toward him. “Anyone take the bait?”

“Not yet.” He frowned. “Maybe now that you're gone, something will happen here.” He shifted into gear. “Did it seem like any of your coworkers were onto the real reason for your hospital stay?”

“No, and I even talked to Nantz. He was his usual self.” She frowned. “I hate that we're keeping the poisoning from everyone. And I especially hate that we haven't told them Fred's real cause of death.”

“I get that, but we can't risk them knowing.”

“I know,” she said, and let the conversation drop.

“On the plus side, Rossi just called. Eckert was hauled in last night for a bar fight. He had a set of lock picks in his pocket.”

She shot forward in excitement. “Meaning he knows how to pick a lock and could have gotten into my apartment?”

Brady held out a hand. “Hold up. Don't get too excited yet. Eckert has the tools and the skills, but we still don't have anything to connect him to your apartment. And he's claiming he has them because he's into locksport.”

“What's that?”

“It's a sport where guys try to defeat locking systems.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“I'm serious. They have groups to share knowledge plus participate in activities and contests. He said his former brother-in-law is a locksmith and got him started. Rossi said it checks out.”

She sat back. “Still, we have a guy who clearly knows all about antifreeze and could break into my car and apartment. Since Preston seems iffy now, Eckert sounds like our best lead.”

“Rossi thinks so, too. It's illegal to own lock-picking tools with the intent to use them in a burglary. Eckert claims that's not what he was doing, but it allows Rossi to hold him for additional questioning while Rossi investigates. It may not pan out, but at least we have a lead and Rossi has reason to dig into Eckert's background more.”

She nodded.

“Rossi also said that he finally interviewed the last guy who sent a threatening letter. He was traveling during the times in question. So that rules out all of the people from the lawsuit who sent threats.”

“I'm glad it's not one of them,” she said. “I'd hate for more lives to be ruined.”

All the talk of who was trying to kill her took the last bit of her energy. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The doctors said she would feel weak and tired, not only from the poison but from the dialysis, but her lack of energy surprised her, as did falling asleep for the drive to her apartment where she packed a suitcase.

At the firehouse, Brady held her elbow as he escorted her up the steps to Skyler's condo. He carried her suitcase in the other hand. Morgan knew she should shrug off his help to assert her independence, but honestly, she needed him right now and liked his help. Problem was, she also liked the warm feel of his hand on her arm.

Brady unlocked the condo door and stepped back. “Skyler says you should make yourself at home.”

Morgan whipped around to look up at him. “Don't tell me you called her on her honeymoon.”

“Are you kidding? I'd like my head to remain attached to my neck.” He chuckled. “They're coming back tomorrow night, and she called Darcie to ask her to do a favor. Girl stuff, she said.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, now.” She grinned. “Girl stuff is important.”

“If you say so.” He laughed again, and his smile warmed her to the core.

She quickly averted her eyes and caught sight of a Christmas wonderland. “Wow.” She turned in a circle to take in the stockings on the fireplace, two tall trees and garland mixed with small candles strung everywhere else. “It's like a magazine.”

“Skyler loves Christmas. Her parents never celebrated the holiday so she goes overboard with it.”

“I can understand that.”

“Your parents weren't big on Christmas, either?”

Morgan shook her head. “Just the opposite. We had party after party, but they were for grown-ups and business associates. No children. The house had to be professionally decorated, and I wasn't allowed to touch anything.” She circled the room and ran her fingers over soft pine boughs. “But this? This all looks very touchable and fun.”

He didn't speak, so she turned to look at him and found him staring intently at her.

“What?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

“You sound so excited. Like a little kid. But you only have one tiny tree at your place.” He paused as if thinking about going on. “It looked perfect to me. Like you described your parents' decor.”

What? Perfect? Her?
She flashed him a surprised look and considered how not including any memories from her past in her apartment had made it barren and sparse, like a model house rather than a real home. “I guess maybe I embraced more of my parents' lifestyle than I thought. But when I have children, you better believe the whole place will be filled with decorations, presents and, most importantly, love.”

He suddenly sobered and swallowed hard. She had no idea what she'd said to change the atmosphere.

“I should let you rest,” he said. “I'll be downstairs in the office. I want to check the video feed from our cameras and do more research on Eckert.” He rested his fingers on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. He seemed to come to a conclusion before he took a deep breath and blew it out. “Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I will,” she said, but she decided she wasn't going to call him for anything that wasn't life threatening.

At the door he turned. “We're pretty secure here, but lock up after me, just in case.”