The adrenaline rush gone, her legs turned to rubber. With unladylike grace, she plopped into the dirt.
I did it. I really did it.
She grinned, mentally patting herself on the back. She’d never been in a situation where she had to physically defend herself before. Even though her actions had been clumsy at best, she now had a greater sense of self confidence. She’d led a fairly sheltered life, didn’t have any “street smarts,” yet when faced with a dire situation, she’d been able to take care of herself. At least to a certain degree. Extremely proud of herself, she wanted to bask in the moment.
“Sara!” came a deep, gravelly voice.
Startled, she twisted around. Morgan stormed toward her. Ignoring her hammering heart, she sat quietly, waiting for him as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
He stood over her, glaring. And looking downright terrifying. Hands fisted, his eyes were narrowed, lips thinned, and his jaw set. He looked every bit the predator he’d reminded her of the day before. Danger dripped off him in droves. For some reason, Sara wasn’t the least bit afraid.
“What the hell is going on here?” His voice had a hard, cold edge to it.
Leaning back and craning her neck, she couldn’t resist the impulse to take in every inch of his rock hard body as she gathered her composure. Today he had on cowboy boots, faded jeans, and a denim shirt. He didn’t look anything like an investigator. She should know—she’d dealt with enough of them. She made a point of looking over her shoulder, and as if on cue, the drunk groaned.
Quite casually, she said, “What it looks like, I suppose. What do
you
think is going on?” For emphasis, she raised her eyebrows.
He took a step to her side, peering into the grave before turning back to her. “Do you know how lucky you are?”
Sara didn’t reply. She knew it had been more luck than expertise that had saved her. If the man hadn’t lost his footing and landed in the hole, and if Morgan hadn’t shown up, she still could have been in a lot of trouble. She hated being so vulnerable, but was glad it had all worked out. This time, anyway. She made a mental note to practice those moves Cat had taught her a little more often.
Extending her hand, she waited for him to help her up. He finally took hold and pulled her to her feet in one swift motion. Pain shot through her arm. “Ow!” He let go so fast she almost tripped. Suddenly his hands circled her waist, holding her close. Lost in his dark eyes, she simply stood for a long moment and stared. Another groan from the hole broke her stupor, and she stepped back. What was wrong with her?
“You’re hurt,” Morgan said.
Looking through the tattered sleeve, she studied the bruise forming on her upper arm, knowing there was a similar bruise on the other arm.
That explains it.
“At least you aren’t bleeding this time,” he said with a wry smile.
She grinned, remembering the episode in the study. “No, thank goodness. However, this ‘gentleman’ was determined I have a drink with him. He didn’t much care for it when I politely refused.”
Morgan’s glare darkened a bit more when he looked at her torn sleeve again.
After she tucked her purse back on her shoulder, she rubbed each of her upper arms with her hands. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward up for a brief moment. “You surprised me. When I saw y’all going at it, I thought you didn’t stand a chance. Looks like I was wrong.”
“A new concept for you?” When he ignored her, she asked. “Well?”
He stepped back. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
A voice floated up from the open hole. “Hey! Whadda ’bout me?” Hic.
Morgan scowled as he looked into the grave.
“Get me outta’ here, man. And keep that bitch away from me. I should have ’er arrested for bodily harm. Oooh. I don’ feel so good.”
Sara peered down at the drunk, sitting cross legged in the dirt, holding his head. She almost felt sorry for him. But not quite. He’d brought it on himself. And now that she thought about it, the man was lucky he’d fallen into the grave. From the expression on Morgan’s face when he’d arrived, he would have done more to the drunk than dump him in a hole. So, in a way, she’d done him a favor.
Without a word, Morgan punched a number into his cell phone. “Yeah, Reece. Send a unit out to the cemetery. Mrs. Adams has just been assaulted.”
She didn’t want the drunk arrested. He probably just needed to sleep it off, so there was no need for the police.
He looked her over critically before turning his attention back to the phone. “She’ll be all right. I’ll make sure she comes in to fill out the paperwork.”
“No,” she protested. Morgan ignored her. What was it with men? Was he deaf? “I don’t want you to—”
His scowl cut her off. “Yes, you will.”
Temper flaring; using some of the moves Cat had shown her seemed like to really good idea. Only this time, on Morgan. How dare he tell her what she would or wouldn’t do?
“No, not you, Reece,” he said into the phone. “I was talking to Mrs. Adams. Oh, and they’ll need to bring a ladder—the man’s in Adams’ open grave. Nope, it wasn’t me. She’s the one who put him there. Didn’t know a purse could be considered a lethal weapon. Until today.” He grinned again as he carried on the conversation without taking his eyes off her.
Sara started to fist her hands on her hips to get her point across, but the bruises on her arms protested. Loudly. Before she turned to go, she leaned over the edge of the grave and cleared her throat. When the man glanced up, looking as if he might pass out at any minute, she shook her finger at him.
“Let that be a lesson to you. Never accost another woman. Do you hear me?” When he nodded his assent, she started to step back.
“Lady? Can I have my bottle?” the man pleaded.
She couldn’t believe it. “No!”
“Well, damn.” His head lolled to one side, then he passed out, landing with a soft plop in the dirt.
Serves him right
. With chin held high, she marched down the slope toward her car.
After a couple heartbeats, Morgan caught up with her, matching his steps to hers. “Um, Mrs. Adams—Sara—you might want to brush yourself off.”
His comment took her by surprise, and she turned to face him. “What do you mean?”
He widened his eyes as he craned his head to look at her backside. She twisted around to find herself covered in dirt.
“Oh.” Dust flew as she swiped at her pants.
“Much better,” he said as he checked the results of her efforts.
Heat crept up her cheeks. The man took perverse pleasure in making her uncomfortable. “So glad it meets with your approval.”
“What are you doing out here? There normally isn’t staff on site all the time, and any number of things can happen. It’s also a favorite hangout for some of the local winos.” Even though he attempted to sound business-like—professional—there was still a bit of humor left in his voice.
“Until the last twenty-four hours, I’ve never had a problem coming to my husband’s gravesite. Now I’m being assaulted in more ways than one.” She stopped to look at him, trying her best to ignore his dark, mysterious eyes.
“Except he’s not there.”
“And why isn’t he, Mr. Daniels? What’s the reason for exhuming his body and disturbing his final resting place?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he turned into one of those stone pillars again, expressionless. She hated that about him. Granted he’d come to her rescue—twice now—and she’d seen a more human side of him when he had. A side she wouldn’t mind getting to know a bit better. But when it came to discussing her husband, Morgan turned as cold as a slab of marble.
He ignored her question, his voice all business now. “You shouldn’t be out here alone and certainly not today. Reporters are probably following you everywhere.”
Ah. So he’d seen the paper, too. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she turned and continued walking. Clouds floated across the sky, and a lawn mower was running somewhere off in the distance. She caught a whiff of the fresh cut grass drifting on the soft breeze. And Morgan’s aftershave. To the casual observer, it was just another normal spring day. For Sara, there was no such thing as normal, only the constant hum of uncertainty and loneliness.
Morgan was right, of course, but she didn’t want to admit it to him. She’d forgotten about the picture and hadn’t thought of the possibility of being followed. It had just been so automatic to gravitate toward where she’d always gone to talk out her troubles. And she
would
be in a better mood, more able to handle the burdens she’d inherited after she’d sat and talked to the headstone a while. Funny how she could talk to Jason’s grave when, for months before his death, they hadn’t had many conversations that didn’t revolve around the baby. It did give her a small degree of comfort, though.
Her habits may be strange to some, but to her, Kaycee, and to a smaller degree, Jason, were still her world. And that she couldn’t, wouldn’t let go for anyone.
She turned to face Morgan. “What would you have me do? Go into hiding with my tail between my legs?” The thought of running revolted her. Suddenly, the adrenaline surge wore off and she wanted to sit back down in the dirt. Instead, she headed to her car again, and for the first time, noticed his vehicle parked at an odd angle in front of hers. She hadn’t heard him drive up or seen him approach, she’d been too terrified.
Then a thought hit her. “Wait. How’d you know where I was, or that I needed help?” He always appeared out of nowhere whenever things were happening to her.
Which didn’t start until after they’d exhumed Jason’s body.
“I followed you.”
Her jaw dropped at his open admission. “You what? From where?”
“From the restaurant.”
“And did you follow me there, too?” This was too much. Would she never have any peace again? She’d only met him twenty-fours ago, yet everywhere she turned, there he was.
“No. I happened to be eating at the burger joint across the street and saw you leave the parking lot. Decided to see where you went, but you got away from me in traffic.”
“Oh, you did.” She didn’t try to hide her displeasure.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Good thing.”
The ire drained out of her. “Well, it could have been worse.”
“How?”
“The grounds crew could’ve covered the grave and I wouldn’t have had a way to get the drunk away from me.” She inwardly shuddered as she chose not to think of what might have happened.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure their boss will have a word with them about that little oversight.” He paused, then asked, “Why’d you come out here?”
Focusing on anything but him, she evaded the question. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe.”
She blew out a weary sigh. What difference did it make if he knew? He wasn’t going to relent until she told him something. “I feel connected to Jason here. I talk to him and when I leave, I feel as if he’s given me strength to go on for another day. That’s all I need, usually. Just to be able to endure one more day in a world without my baby and husband.” When she paused, she realized that wasn’t what she’d intended to tell him. She’d intended to be vague—tell him basically what she thought he’d want to hear. But the truth just slipped out. Let him believe it or not.
“Besides, I wanted to pray for the dead baby found there. I’m sure it didn’t have a decent burial and someone needed to say a prayer for it.”
“So you visit the grave fairly often.” He didn’t pose the statement as a question.
“Yes,” she said simply, not looking at him.
They were almost to the car, and she was more than ready to leave. This was no longer the peaceful place it had once been. The gaping hole in the ground served as a silent testament to the turmoil she was going through. She had a suspicion it would no longer be her quiet refuge, regardless of the outcome of the police investigation. Despite everything, the urge to press her cheek to Jason’s cool headstone once again tugged at her. Except it lay on the ground...up the hill...next to the empty grave.
****
A pang of regret assaulted Morgan as Sara talked about her family. The longing in her eyes drove a spear directly into his gut. What would it feel like to have someone love you so deeply she only found solace at your gravesite? Outside of his parents, and except for two or three people, he’d never meant that much to anyone and doubted he ever would. Which was the way he preferred it. Or thought he did. He deliberately never saw the same woman more than a few times before breaking it off. He didn’t do commitment. He’d seen his parents’ so called commitment, which equated to his dad ignoring his mother’s problems.
Her fatal problems.
Shoving the emotions aside, he refocused on Sara. He wanted to see her expression, to see her eyes when he asked the next question.
“Did you see Andy Ford outside of the office?” He paused a moment, then added, “On a personal level?”
“Excuse, me?”
“Will you answer the question?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but where Andy was concerned, Morgan’s emotions got the best of him.
“Yes, I saw him. We attended the same company functions.”
“Any other times? Like after your husband died?”
“He belonged to the country club, so I’d see him there, too.”
Morgan watched for signs that she was lying, but she held his gaze, unblinking. She appeared to be open and honest. Experience had taught him looks could be deceiving.
“Why are you asking about Andrew?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that two men, tied closely together and both in executive positions within the same company, died of heart attacks?”
“Of course not. Being a corporate executive is stressful and people die from heart attacks all the time. I just hadn’t realized how much Jason had internalized the demands of the company until he was gone. If he’d confided in me more, maybe I could’ve helped him. I don’t know.”
“He hadn’t told you about his heart condition?” He moved closer to her.
She backed up a step, putting some space between them. “No. I’m sure he wanted to protect me, though. I was pretty far into the pregnancy when his problem developed. At least that’s what the doctor told me. Then we had the stress of dealing with a newborn in the house. I know he didn’t sleep well. I tried to be quiet with the baby, but he stirred every time I got up with her.” She gripped the huge purse and pulled it close to her chest.