That night brought nothing but bad dreams. Morgan tried to close his eyes and steady his breathing. He went back to his happy place: on a jetty over a lake, surrounded by peaceful, snowcapped mountains miles away from civilization. Nothing could disturb him. He was—
Don’t you dare.
His eyes snapped open and he shot upright. Rachel stirred beside him but didn’t wake. Morgan sat there for a few moments, collecting his thoughts and trying to decide if he should go back to sleep while fatigue pricked at his dry eyes. Deep down, he knew there was no chance of sleeping—his heart was racing, and although he tried to think of anything else, something to calm him, he had nothing on the brain but that woman.
Giving up entirely, he slid out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and crept out of the room. It wasn’t until he was in the hallway that he slid on the sweater, feeling warm and secure in the house that didn’t tend to get warm until a couple hours from now. A few months ago, he would find himself drawn to the kitchen at this point, dragging his feet around like a zombie until the first sip of coffee passed his lips. But now things were different. Without a second thought, he entered Robin’s bedroom, keeping as quiet as possible so as not to wake Rachel through the baby monitor.
Morgan stood in the doorway, arms folded, and leaned against the frame. He gazed at his son, the rising sun kissing the skin of his plump cheek while he snored into a pillow. Although he was only a year old, Morgan already knew he was going to go on to do great things. How could he not, with a mother like Rachel? That woman cared for children more than anything else in the world, even if they weren’t her own. But for Robin? She’d move mountains.
The toddler stirred, hacking out a short cough and rolling onto his back. He groaned in the sweet, vulnerable way that young children do, and Morgan rushed over to pick him up, still surprised at the weight in his arms. He’d heard people say that kids grew up fast, but he had no idea it was going to be this fast. It seemed like only yesterday he was running after Dusty Young’s killer, but now here he was, one year into being a father.
It killed him that his work took him back to his old habits.
No. He couldn’t let that thought enter his mind. But was it already there? Way down in his darker thoughts, was he ashamed to be back where he started, chasing after a psychopath and questioning his family’s safety? Rachel had already expressed on countless occasions that she endorsed his career path. So then, why did it feel like he was doing something wrong? Was that why he couldn’t sleep? Was it because—
Don’t you dare.
Morgan dismissed the thought, patting Robin softly on the back and making his way downstairs. He turned on the light, now free to make as much noise as he wanted while he carried his son to the floor and distracted him from waking tears with loud toys. The bones of this house were good, and the sound rarely traveled all the way up the stairs. Morgan saw it as a blessing, watching Robin’s eyes light up as the flashing lights of a badly proportioned airplane glided across the carpet, Morgan’s hand acting as the pilot.
“Gah,” Robin tried, pointing with an excited smile.
Morgan caught himself smiling too. “That’s right: gah.”
The minutes breezed by. He glanced at the clock from time to time, realizing just how fast it was going. His nightmares fell into the background for a moment, and Morgan was grateful for the distraction. He felt his worries fall away for the time being, but it didn’t escape his understanding that those same problems would still be there waiting for him when the sun rose, lurking like a jungle predator, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
“Are you all right?”
Morgan startled at the voice. He craned his neck toward the base of the stairs, where Rachel sat clutching a robe around her chest. Her eyes were squinted, and she was doubled over like an old lady with aches and pains, but she was still every bit as beautiful as the day they’d met. It didn’t take a genius to see that.
“I’m all right,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
“Inadvertently. I—” A yawn interrupted her. “I noticed you were gone.”
“And you just couldn’t bear to be without me?”
“As is always the case. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Morgan nodded, but he didn’t really believe it. He turned back to Robin, scooping three brightly colored blocks into the back of a plastic truck and wheeling them around his son. Rachel appeared at his side, sitting cross-legged on the carpet.
“Bad dreams, right?” she said.
Morgan sighed. “Something like that.”
“Want to talk about it?”
In truth, he really did want to let go of every thought that poisoned his mind, but they’d already gone over it a thousand times. With all that was going on with her work—rejoining the fundraising organization known as HUCINS—he didn’t want to bog her down with his own insecurities. “Honestly, it’s nothing we haven’t talked about.”
“Is it the case?”
“Yes,” he said, and nothing more.
“Are you having trouble?”
“No more than usual. I just keep seeing Amy Black’s face. Whenever I start to think we’ll find her father, I imagine being able to tell her she hasn’t lost him. But then I find myself watching a follow-up scene. It’s me in one room and her in another, and I’m desperately trying to figure out how to explain that I’d got it all wrong, and that her father’s body was found.”
“Gah!” Robin yelled, laughing at the sound of the truck.
Rachel scooped him up and held him in her arms, softly swaying him while looking over his shoulder at Morgan. “It’s funny, I keep wanting to say that we shouldn’t talk about it in front of the kid, but he doesn’t understand any of this.”
“Neither do I,” Morgan confessed.
“I wouldn’t let it get to you. We both know you’re doing the right thing. Just try to think of it as a case like any other. Somebody hired you to track someone down, and right or wrong, she knew the chances when she did it. You’re a private investigator, honey, not a superhero. Don’t let it weight you down.”
Morgan supposed she was right. In spite of all his efforts, it would take a drastic turn of events for anything to become directly his fault. Sure, he’d made the phone call and been warned against investigating further, but what would it really say about him if he backed down now? He tried to picture it, only to find he couldn’t.
“Come on,” Rachel said, struggling to her feet with Robin in her arms. “The sun’s rising and I want coffee. You, on the other hand, need to go and start your day. If you still want to talk about it in a few hours, I’ll be here.”
I know, Morgan thought, helping her up.
I know.