Some weeks later, Morgan sat in the waiting room while Rachel had a checkup with the doctor. It was her wish that she went in alone, and he was not about to argue with a pregnant woman. Instead, he took the time to browse social media on his phone, finding his Aunt Gladys and flicking through the pictures she’d posted of her son. Each time he saw Dusty’s face, it served as a reminder that he’d done the right thing. No matter how much he’d upset people or pushed his own limits while investigating his cousin’s murder, Morgan knew it’d all been worth it.
Even his aunt’s latest status update said as much:
My son’s killer is dead. Good riddance.
Not that he’d ever be contacted, reached out to, or thanked. But that was okay. Morgan hadn’t done it for the gratitude; he’d done it for the sake of vengeance. However, the more he’d learned, the more he’d come to realize that things weren’t so black and white. Arthur St. John had done a terrible thing, although his reasons were understandable. His own death had been the only outcome that would suit him.
Morgan took a moment to regret that he couldn’t save him.
Closing the screen and stashing the phone away in his pocket, he heard the click of the door and looked to the doctor’s office, where Rachel came out with a big smile on her face. He smiled and took her arm. They left the building together. He helped her into the car and drove her home. They discussed the appointment along the way—apparently she was healthy and there were no problems with the baby so far. Morgan had guessed as much, but it was still music to his ears. After the year he’d had, he almost expected something to go horribly wrong. He could only hope it worked out okay.
They spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms, discussing whether they wanted a boy or a girl. After talking and squabbling and laughing out loud, they reached the conclusion that they’d both be happy either way, and that only time would tell.
“Do you think he or she will be into sports?” Rachel asked as they lay on the couch that night, the lights low and the TV off. Soft, romantic songs played on the Friday-night radio station, perfectly setting the mood.
“Knowing us? Probably not.”
They both smiled and nuzzled into each other’s cheeks.
“He’ll be smart though.”
“And caring,” Morgan said, and if their kid grew up to be anything like Rachel they’d be remarkable too. The work she’d done at HUCINS was exceptionally generous, and he didn’t think it possible for a person that kind to conceive anything but more goodness. “I just want to be the best dad I can be.”
“You’ll be great. We both know it.”
Morgan appreciated the compliment, but he still had his doubts. “We can only hope. At least the big cases are done now. I just have to rely on the simple jobs, keep the money rolling in, and start hoping for the best. If it all goes downhill, I’ll have to get a real job.”
“We can worry about that later.” Rachel sat up. “Let’s just fret about doing right by our child, and in the meantime you do whatever you need to do. Whatever happens in the end, I think it’s time to make your job official. If you’re happy to, that is.”
There was nothing Morgan wanted more now than to continue being a private investigator, but if all his cases were going to involve serial killers and psychopaths, then he didn’t know how long his marriage would last. Avenging Dusty had put a strain on them, and he didn’t want to repeat that, but if he could get away with tracking cheating husbands or solving petty thefts, they’d do well enough. “I’d love that.”
Rachel beamed a huge, perfect, white smile—the same smile that brightened her already bright eyes and made her a sight to behold. “Then it’s time we get you going with a website and a phonebook entry. I’m here for you, Morgan, and if you need my support in this, then you have it until my dying breath.”
Morgan smiled with her. “I know.”