Authors: Jennifer Ryan
“Put him through. I’ll put him on speaker, if you don’t mind?” Davies asked Tyler. At Tyler’s acceptance, he opened the line to Morgan’s father.
“This is Agent Reed. To whom am I speaking?”
“I’ll tell you, you motherfucker, when you tell me where my daughter is. You can’t hide her from me. I have a right to know where she is.”
Tyler wanted to follow his gut instinct and hang up and never accept another call from this guy again. He didn’t know who the guy was, but Tyler meant to keep him away from Morgan at all costs.
“Well, now. With that kind of attitude, you can bet your ass I won’t give you her location.”
He wanted to know the guy’s name and how he fit into Morgan’s life. Why didn’t her father know where Morgan lived?
“You better tell me, Reed. I’m her father and I demand to know where she is.”
“How do I know you really are her father? What’s your name?”
The man paused for a moment, telling Tyler without words he did have something to hide.
“James Weston. Now, where’s my daughter.”
“So Mr. Weston. You’re from Texas, right?” Tyler needed more than a name to run down information on the guy. He needed a place to start and a state would get him closer. He’d met Morgan in Texas, but neither she nor this guy had a Texas accent. Morgan’s sounded more East Coast. This guy’s was even more pronounced. Tyler imagined Morgan had lost part of her accent after leaving wherever she’d lived before Texas. He didn’t even know if she still lived there.
“Morgan was born in West Virginia. I live in Niles now.”
“Niles Canyon? You live here in California?”
“I just said that. Now, tell me how to contact my daughter. Is she living in San Francisco? Maybe somewhere outside the city in the Bay Area?”
Davies typed the pertinent information into his computer and waited while the search went through on James Weston of Niles, California. They’d know everything about him in a few short minutes.
“We’ll get to that. I’m not convinced you are who you say you are. So, your daughter is Morgan Weston, huh?” Tyler hedged.
“You and I both know she doesn’t go by Weston. Her mama kept her last name. It’s some kind of family tradition. My ass. I don’t know any women who wouldn’t take their husband’s name. Still, she wouldn’t marry me without keeping it. I loved her, so I let her have her way, that time.”
As if she hadn’t had a say other times. Tyler found that an odd thing to say. Weston’s tone told him this man expected to get what he wanted without question. Apparently, he’d wanted Morgan’s mother, and he’d conceded the last name in order to have her. Probably the last thing Morgan’s mother ever got Weston to concede to her.
Tyler wouldn’t be surprised to find a few domestic disturbance calls to the Weston house. Maybe Morgan’s mother even filed charges of domestic abuse against her husband. Something Tyler had seen many times in his career. He could talk to a man like Weston and know just how the scenario played out between him and any woman he had in his life. Tyler wondered where Morgan fit in the picture. Had Weston abused her in some way, too? The thought made him sick.
“So what name does Morgan go by?”
“Her mama went by Standish. We may have been married before God, but that woman came from Satan. She bore that demon of a daughter. Should’ve known right off she came from a long line of witches. She put a spell on me. Every single one of them Standish women was the devil’s spawn.”
Tyler looked to Sam and Davies for some kind of support or understanding of this guy. One second he spoke like any normal man wanting to find his daughter, even if he did it in a hostile tone. The next second, he was spouting off about spells and the devil. He was talking crazy, and they had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth or lying.
“So, Morgan’s a demon witch who comes from a long line of witches. Well, let me just scroll through my contact list and give you her address. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. This guy couldn’t be for real. If he was, Morgan probably had a good reason for hiding from him.
Davies read the files popping up on his computer. He turned the screen so Sam and Tyler could see.
James Weston, recently released from prison after serving twelve years of a fifteen-year sentence for voluntary manslaughter. He’d killed his wife, Fern Standish. Another notation stated Morgan Standish had been the key witness during the murder trial.
Tyler scribbled a note to Davies for him to get a copy of the police report and court transcript. He wanted to know exactly what happened to Fern Standish and just what part Morgan had played in sending her father to jail.
Davies pointed to the screen and Tyler stared in disbelief as he looked at a picture of a young Morgan Standish. She looked to be about twelve. No mistaking her. He’d never forget those blue eyes or that golden hair. When he’d met her, he assumed she was eighteen or nineteen. According to the records, he’d been right. Now twenty-four, she had a Texas driver’s license. The photo was about seven years old. She looked so young.
“It’s none of your business if she wants to see me or not. I have a right to know where my daughter is.” Impatient, his voice grew louder.
If Morgan’s testimony cost James twelve years of his life, Tyler didn’t need to guess why he wanted to find her. Revenge.
“Just tell me how to get in touch with her. That’s all I want.”
“Her last name wasn’t given out. So tell me how you know it’s the same Morgan.”
“It’s her. No one but Morgan could pick out those men and name them. She’s better than any so-called psychic out there. She’s seen things since she was just a little bit of a thing. Used to scare me sometimes the things she knew. She can do things too. She can get into your head, hear your thoughts, crazy things like that. More too.”
The
more too
interested Tyler. He already knew she could read his mind. He wanted to know what else she could do.
Sam’s hand locked on Tyler’s arm. The stunned look on Sam’s face as he stared at the computer screen disturbed Tyler. He read the information on Morgan. An open cold case, the police considered her a missing person. She’d gone missing after the trial. No one knew if she’d been kidnapped, or simply left on her own.
Tyler’s chest ached. Twelve years old when she disappeared, he thought about the first time he’d met her and the fact that she looked like a student with her backpack. They’d met in a restaurant while he finished his meal and she’d just ordered iced tea and a bowl of soup at the table beside him. He considered her order and appearance and realized she might have been on her own for more than five years before they met. He wondered what she’d done, and where she’d lived for those five years. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been through. He didn’t want to imagine it. He didn’t want to think about her alone and on the streets at such a young age.
Time to get
Dad
off the line, so they could do some research. What could they do about Morgan? She’d asked them not to give out her name, and now they knew why, at least partially. She was hiding from her past.
“Listen, Weston, why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll get back to you with Morgan’s information. I’m not giving out her number without talking to her first.”
“All I want is her phone number. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, she can hang up. Either way, I’m her father, and I want to talk to her.”
Tyler wasn’t about to give him anything. He didn’t know how to contact Morgan. Her calls always came through with a blocked number. He’d never had a reason to dig any deeper. If Weston got the number he’d be able to find her, or at least come close. You could find out just about anything about a person using the Internet. Tyler planned on doing a little research himself using the FBI’s resources and the Internet once he got rid of Weston. They already had all the information they needed on him. Davies had spent the last few minutes digging up everything on Weston and his troubled past. They needed to know about Morgan.
“I hate to tell you this”—actually he didn’t—“but I won’t give out her number to you or anyone else. The next time she calls, I’ll let her know how to get in touch with you. We’ll just leave it up to her.”
Probably never going to happen, even if by some miracle he did hear from Morgan. No way she’d want to contact her father. After all, she’d sent him to prison. He couldn’t imagine Morgan’s devastation, losing her mother by her father’s hand.
“The next time she calls, huh. You don’t know how to get in touch with her.” James laughed. “She’s crafty, that one. You probably have no idea what she’s capable of doing. I’ll just bet you’re looking up information on me and her. You’re probably more interested in her though. You’ll be lucky if you find anything on her after the trial. That girl lit out as fast as she could.
“Maybe you’ll get to her before I do. It won’t make any difference. You talk to her; you tell her I’m coming for her. Well, on the other hand, she probably already knows and this is all for nothing. You have a good night, Agent Reed.”
He hung up before Tyler responded, his sardonic laughter ringing in Tyler’s ears.
T
HEY SORTED THROUGH
all the information they gathered on James Weston and Morgan Standish for two hours. Tyler learned more about Morgan in that short period of time than he had in the five years they’d talked on the phone, and it shamed him.
Weston hadn’t been an outstanding parent. He hadn’t even been a good parent. Seven domestic disturbance calls on record. Tyler could only guess how many times the cops weren’t called to the Weston-Standish home. Morgan had been sent to a foster home for a few weeks when her mother ended up in the hospital for minor injuries and psychiatric evaluation. Morgan’s mother had become severely depressed in the end and hadn’t been able to properly care for her daughter.
Morgan’s juvenile records were sealed. Davies offered to get them. Tyler declined. None of their business, they certainly didn’t have any reason to dig up her past. They’d already gone beyond the point of decency, justifying their actions because her father had called and essentially implied a threat to Morgan. He’d already killed her mother. They only wanted to make sure Morgan was safe.
That’s what Tyler kept telling himself. He just wanted her to be safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had his doubts.
“Look what I found,” Sam said from his cubicle across the aisle. “I searched the Internet for anything on ‘Morgan’ and ‘psychic.’ I found a few interesting sites that have a lot of information about her.”
Tyler got up from his desk and stood behind Sam and read over his shoulder several of the bookmarked web pages.
Tyler read silently about the court case in which she testified for the prosecution against her father. Vilified in the press, they called her a witch and talked about her ability to see things. They made her sound crazy and delusional. He read an account where several rocks had been thrown at her outside the courthouse where she testified. Police had to aid in getting the crowd to stand back, so the star witness could enter the building. Harsh treatment for a young girl in this day and age.
The trial had been sensationalized because Morgan’s father and his attorney had gone to the press and made Morgan out to be crazy, psychic, and possessed by the devil. Every religious zealot and crackpot showed up at the courthouse to rid their community of the devil’s demon.
“Small towns,” Sam said. “They made her out to be the bad guy, even though her father killed her mother. She saw it all happen. She told the police where to find the weapon. She didn’t see him get rid of it, but she knew. We both know how she knew where to find the knife.”
Tyler nodded. “She saw it in her mind, or however she does what she does. Twelve years old and people are yelling ‘Witch!’ and throwing rocks and all she wanted is justice for her mother. On top of it all, her vicious father sent those close-minded, intolerant jackasses after her. I can’t imagine what that did to her.”
“I’d say it did a lot,” Sam said sadly. “Look at the next article. She went missing the day the trial ended. Her father hadn’t even been found guilty or sentenced, and she’d already taken off. People speculated one of the crackpots outside the courthouse had kidnapped and killed her. That seemed to be the consensus for a while. Then, nothing. It looks like the cops just tossed her file into the cold case pile. I’ll bet they didn’t do more than wait to see if a body turned up. When it didn’t, they forgot all about her. No one wanted to deal with the strange girl who saw things.” He looked up at Tyler as he read the article. “It’s sad. None of them understood her, so they made her the villain. There’s hardly anything about her father and the murder. They were all fascinated with her. They made her into some sort of sideshow freak.”
“No one cared enough to remember she’d witnessed her mother’s murder,” Tyler said, disgusted. “They gave up on her. No one helped her. They tossed her into a system that didn’t want to deal with someone different. They treated her like a freak instead of a scared little girl.” Tyler shook his head in disbelief. “Twelve years old, Sam, and look what a town did to her.”
He felt sick.
Doo, do, do, dooo—
“You really need to change that thing,” Sam teased. He closed out the web pages with the news articles and Tyler answered his phone.
“Oh, God, Maria. I’m sorry. There was this big blowup at work. I’ve been stuck in a meeting with my boss and digging through information on a case.”
Today turned into a rotten day, and he thanked his lucky star Maria didn’t lay on the guilt trip because Tyler had forgotten their date. He grinded the heel of his hand into his tired eye.
“Yeah, it’s been a bad day. I promised dinner at Decadence, but it’s too late. How about I pick up a pizza and come to your place? Yeah? I want to see you, too. Okay. Let me tie up some things here, and I’ll be over within the hour. Yeah, I can’t wait to see you.”
He hung up and realized he did want to see her. He hadn’t made anything work out with Morgan today, but he could try to salvage the tenuous relationship he had with Maria. He needed something good to hold on to, and the only thing he had was her.