Shirlee McCoy

Running for Cover


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have?”

      She shrugged, her hair brushing against the slim column of her neck. Dark, oversize sunglasses hid her eyes but did little to draw attention away from her bruises. They were dark blue and green against her tan skin, and Jackson wanted to take her to the nearest hospital and make sure she stayed there until she recovered. “I’m still sorry. You must miss her a lot.”

      “I do. Lindsey was a great person,” Jackson said, knowing that words could never adequately describe his oldest sister. Sweet, funny and intelligent, she’d loved passionately and without reservation. In the end, it was love that had been her undoing.

      “Were the two of you close?”

      “Not as much in the few years before her death, but when we were kids, we were.”

      “I guess that makes it harder.”

      “It does, but I realized a few months after she died that I could drown in regret or I could learn from my mistakes and move on.” Learning had been the easy part. It was the moving on that Jackson was still having trouble with.

      “It takes two people to make a relationship strong, so I’m sure you weren’t the only one at fault for the distance between you and your sister,” Morgan said as she tried to maneuver her carry-on over a curb. She grimaced, releasing the case and grabbing her side.

      Jackson put a hand on her shoulder, holding her steady as she caught her breath. He could feel delicate bones and tense muscles beneath her jacket, could feel her arm tremble as she shifted beneath his touch. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, that he’d make sure of it, but he doubted she’d want to hear it. He grabbed her carry-on instead, ignoring her sputtered protest.

      “You should be home in bed, Morgan. Not traveling to Washington.”

      “You might be right, but I’m going anyway. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to visit my parents. Too long.”

      “It won’t hurt to wait a few days, give yourself a chance to heal.”

      “It will if…”

      “What?”

      “Nothing.”

      He let it go. She didn’t have to finish the thought for Jackson to know what she was thinking. If the men who’d attacked her got their hands on her again, she might be out of chances to visit family and reconnect with those she loved. “Do your parents know you’re going back home?”

      “Know? I left a message on their answering machine, and they’ve called me ten times to make sure I haven’t changed my mind. If my father had his way, he’d be heading here to play escort.”

      “That might not have been such a bad idea.”

      “I’m about fifteen years too old to need an escort. Besides, by the time he returned my call, I’d already booked my flight. There was no way he could get here before I took off.” She smiled wanly, pulling off her sunglasses as they stepped into the airport. “Speaking of which, my plane boards in an hour, and I’m going to wait by the boarding gate until then.”

      “Is that a subtle hint that this is good-bye?”

      “I wouldn’t call it a hint, and I’m sure it wasn’t very subtle. But I didn’t sleep much last night, and I’d rather sit and be quiet than stand and chat,” she said, brushing a few strands of inky hair from her cheek, the sleeve of her jacket riding up to reveal blue-gray smudges circling her wrist.

      An image flashed through Jackson’s mind. Lindsey the last time he’d seen her. The deep black bruises on her neck. The tubes that had snaked from her broken body. The pale, lifeless face that had once been vibrant and filled with humor. “Be careful, Morgan. The men who attacked you last night are still on the loose.”

      “Believe me, I know it. It’s pretty much all I’ve thought about for the past twelve hours.”

      “Did you speak with Jake this morning?”

      “Briefly. He called me a few hours before the wedding to let me know that he contacted the Spokane Police Department. They know I’m on the way. Other than that, he didn’t have much to report.”

      “No leads?”

      “None that he was willing to share.”

      “I’ll make some phone calls. See if any of my old pals in the New York City Police Department have information about your ex’s murder.”

      “I’m sure that Jake is already taking care of that.”

      “I’m sure he is, too, but I don’t think he’d frown on another set of eyes and ears. Besides, I’ve got some buddies on the force. They may be willing to share information with me that they wouldn’t with someone else.”

      “Even if it’s information that can help break a case?”

      “The information I’m talking about is more the speculative type.”

      “You mean gossip,” she said, moving toward the Northwest Airlines gate.

      “Gossiping wouldn’t be a very manly thing to do. I prefer to think of it as dispersal of unproven information.”

      “Dispersal of unproven information, huh? I’ll have to remember that one.” They’d reached the gate, and Morgan stopped, turning to face Jackson. With the dark glasses off, Jackson could clearly see the fear and worry in her eyes. “I know it may seem like I’m not grateful to you for what you’ve done, but I am. You saved my life, and I don’t take that lightly.”

      “You saved your own life, Morgan. I just happened to be there to help out.”

      “That’s nice of you to say, but I think we both know the truth,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

      The jolt of awareness that shot through him was as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

      Surprised, he met her eyes, saw his own shock reflected there.

      She dropped his hand, took a quick step back. “Take care, Jackson.”

      She hurried away before he could respond.

      That was fine. He’d ignore what he’d felt. Chalk it up to fatigue and stress or too many months out of the dating game. What he wouldn’t do was let Morgan travel to Washington alone. She was in too vulnerable a condition. If she ran into her enemies again, she’d have no way to defend herself. No hope of escape.

      He watched until she was through the security gate, and then he followed, trying to blend in with an older couple moving into the boarding area ahead of him. No sense in letting Morgan know he’d booked a flight to Spokane until it was too late for either of them to trade in their tickets.

      Morgan was a hundred yards away, sitting with her back to the security gate. Not a good move. Anyone could walk through without her noticing. Jackson was tempted to tell her that, but figured it could wait. They’d have plenty of time to talk about safety measures on the flight to Spokane.

      He took a seat on a bench several rows away from Morgan, positioning himself so that he was partially hidden by an information desk. They’d board the plane in a half hour. That would be soon enough to let Morgan know he was sticking around. He was pretty sure she wouldn’t be happy about it, and he was just as sure he didn’t care. He’d made the mistake of believing Lindsey when she’d brushed off his concern over a bruised cheek and a broken finger. An accident, she’d said. And he’d taken her at her word. Two months later, she was dead.

      God knew Jackson regretted not asking more questions, regretted not allowing himself to imagine the unimaginable.

      Regretted it, but regret didn’t change what had happened, and it couldn’t bring his sister back.

      He was going to Spokane. He was going to finish what he’d started because he had to.

      For Lindsey.

      For Lacey and Jude.