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“SORRY I’M LATE.” THE aroma of fresh coffee drew Cole straight to Morgan’s coffee pot. He raised the carafe from the warmer. “May I?”
“Help yourself. You know where everything is.”
He couldn’t begrudge the irritation in her tone. By the time he’d finished at the station, it was after two, and three by the time he’d rolled into bed. He’d managed a few hours of restless sleep before letting Tom know he’d been stuck at work and was running late. Better to face Morgan in person. After another hit of caffeine.
“Good morning, Mr. Patton.” Austin looked up from papers he and Morgan were going over.
Cole poured his coffee and took a reviving sip. “Good morning, Austin.”
“Last night was really cool. You caught that bad guy and didn’t shoot anybody.”
Cole tried not to smile. “I told you before, just because cops have guns doesn’t mean they want to shoot people. I tried to find a better way to keep everyone in the restaurant safe. I had help from a few other people.”
“Yeah, like that fat man sitting on the bad guy. I’ll bet he didn’t like that.”
Cole shot a glance Morgan’s way. She was focused on her laptop, not intervening in the conversation, so he guessed he was on steady ground. Austin wasn’t showing signs that last night had traumatized him.
He’s holding up better than you are.
Cole leaned on the counter, waiting for the caffeine to hit his bloodstream.
“You can let the others know they’re welcome to come in for coffee,” Morgan said.
“I’ll do that.” He scraped a thumbnail across his stubble. “Look, about last night.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m sure you had a good reason for not letting me know you were all right.”
Austin seemed to shrink into himself.
Cole shot Morgan a glance, chinning toward the boy. She must have understood that Austin picked up on the tension.
“I meant to say thank you for watching Bailey,” she said.
“Not a problem. He’s a good dog. Everything work out on your trip?”
Morgan nodded. “I think so, yes.”
He stepped close enough to see that she and Austin had been looking at the ledger and notebook pages. “Find anything?”
“I did,” Austin said. “We were matching numbers, and I found a page that almost fit.”
“Austin’s got sharp eyes,” Morgan said, squeezing the boy’s arm. “I heard from a woman who worked with my uncle, and she explained that they are probably what we thought. Financial reports.”
There was more, but he’d let her decide when the time was right to fill him in.
“I should get to work,” he said. “Maybe we can catch up on my lunch break.”
“Sure. If I’m around.” Her tone said she would make a point of not being here.
He’d wasted the I’m sorry card when he’d walked in apologizing for being late, instead of for not letting her know he was all right. “Okay,” was the best he could do.
She ran her thumb across her fingertips. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check my email. Austin, how’s your playlist coming? Will you need any new sheet music?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “After I try them at Mr. Detweiler’s house, I’ll be able to tell.”
“Sounds like a plan. Now, you need to get your school assignments done.”
He huffed, but went upstairs. Was sending Austin out of the room Morgan’s way of telling Cole she was ready to talk?
She busied herself with her laptop while he hid behind his coffee mug, pondering the best way to open a discussion.
“When did you plan to tell me about the bones?” she asked. “Why did I have to find out from Tom?”
Problem solved. He set his mug on the table and sat beside her. She didn’t flinch or move away, a good sign. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I knew you were busy, and it was an emotional time for you. There was nothing you could have done except worry, and I didn’t want that.”
Cole explained what had happened, from Bailey digging up the first bone to the opening of a Pine Hills case, to the excavation process, to what Kovak and Detweiler had found, to waiting on DNA results.
He dragged both hands through his hair. “I was going to tell you. I didn’t think you needed to hear it at three in the morning, though.”
“What about what happened at Burger Hut?” she asked, her tone coated in frost. “You shooed everyone outside, and then you didn’t call. Or text. With or without capital letters and punctuation.”
His eyebrows shot up. Okay, he should have been in touch, but why was she critiquing his texts?
“First, the rabbit took my cell phone, too, and I didn’t get it back until I was at the station dealing with reports and statements.” He rested his fingers on her thigh.
There came the flinch.
He removed his hand. Her blazing eyes bore no resemblance to a cute fawn’s.
“You could have been killed. What were you thinking, rushing that guy all by yourself?”
“It’s my job, Morgan. Protecting people, remember.” He exhaled a lungful of air. “When I saw you and Austin in the restaurant, my heart stopped. I did the only thing I could think of. Get you—and everyone—to safety, which meant getting rid of that threat and getting you all outside so I could deal with the next threat.”
“I saw it online. Why didn’t you just grab a cell phone and call 911 once you overpowered the gunman? That fat man and the other people had him secured. Why put yourself at more risk?”
“I didn’t know who else was in the kitchen. I had to remove that threat first. I was lucky. There was only one accomplice, and he was incapacitated. It could have been more, and they could have come out shooting.”
“At you,” she snapped.
He kept his voice lowered. “But not at you, or Austin, or anyone else in the restaurant.”
He couldn’t find the words to mention that part of the reason he hadn’t slept was because he realized that despite Morgan’s aggravating quirks—or maybe because of them—he loved her. You couldn’t say that to somebody you’d known for only a week. Particularly while said somebody was reaming you a new one.
Her silence sliced through him like a sleet-filled winter storm.
~~~
MORGAN KEPT HER GAZE averted, unable to meet Cole’s eyes or trust her voice. This wasn’t the time to tell him how she felt. What it had been like, sitting there in the semi-darkness, seeing him walk into the restaurant seconds after the man in the Easter bunny mask had taken over the room. How afraid she’d been, that the man might have known Cole was a cop and shot him right there. How she’d wished Cole hadn’t been there at all, but was relieved that he was. How her emotions were all over the place, but deep down, she knew she loved him.
How could you love someone you’d met a week ago?
This wasn’t a Hallmark or Lifetime movie. This was real life.
Her email chimed an incoming message.
Thankful for the distraction, she ignored Cole’s presence—or tried to—and checked the screen. From the woman who’d worked with Uncle Bob.
Morgan opened the message, skimming through the opening pleasantries, hunting for the meat.
I’m concerned about the reports you sent. I don’t want to jump to conclusions based on a single example, and it’s hard to believe Mr. Tate would be involved in anything fraudulent. Please forward the rest of these duplicates to me. These could be innocent errors, but it’s critical they be checked out.
Uncle Bob involved in fraud?
“Something wrong?” Cole’s voice reminded her he was still there. And that he was a cop. Of course, even though his job didn’t venture into the world of finance, he’d be a stickler for doing the right thing.
With a sigh, she pushed away from the table and found the rest of the sheets from Uncle Bob’s notebook. As she snapped the pictures, Cole repeated his question.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Uncle Bob’s associate from way back when needs to see them.” She turned the laptop so Cole could read it.
“Out of my area of expertise,” he said.
“Mine, too. Let the pros handle it. They know what they’re doing.”
As she spoke the words, she realized that’s what Cole had been doing last night. His job. As a professional. It meant he was willing to put his life on the line for people he didn’t know.
Could she love someone who risked his life every day—even when he wasn’t working?
The heart wants what the heart wants.
Hearts didn’t look at someone’s job. Loving Cole and making a life with him were two separate pieces. And there was the little matter of whether or not he loved her.
No time for love, real or imagined. She had Austin to think about, and that meant keeping her distance from Cole.
She sent the emails. Cole’s freshly showered scent did nothing to help keep her distance. “I should see if Austin needs help with his homework.”
“I’d better find out what Tom wants me to do today. I’ll let them know about the coffee.”
After Cole left, Morgan put off going to check on Austin—he’d call if he needed help—and fetched three mugs from the cabinet, filled a cereal bowl with sugar and a measuring cup with milk and set them beside the coffee maker, along with some spoons. Once Tom said they were done in the kitchen, she’d unpack and have a standard sugar bowl and creamer.
Sugar bowls and creamers. Nice normal thoughts.
Morgan remembered the lie she’d told Ms. Accorso at Children Services, about Austin having a piano teacher lined up. She knew there was no one suitable in Pine Hills, so she went back to her top five choices for Portland and Salem. Her first choice had updated his website, which now bore a red banner across the top. Not accepting new students at this time.
Maybe if she’d touched base sooner—but then, she hadn’t known Austin would be staying with her so soon.
Her second and third choices were also not accepting new students. Her fourth had openings. Should she make an appointment, let Austin audition? The woman’s rates were almost as high as Morgan’s first choice, and Morgan wasn’t convinced she’d be getting her money’s worth.
First things first. She went upstairs to make sure Austin was doing his homework.
“I’m done with my history, but I need a computer for math.”
“I think you’re supposed to work the problems on your own, not with a computer,” she said.
“No, it’s a website with assignments. We get extra credit, and math is easy.”
Morgan went through the assignments Austin’s teacher had given her and found the math activity site. “Okay, come down to the kitchen and I’ll set you up.”
The lesson was on ratios, and Austin whipped through the problems. “It’s like fractions, and I get those. Like how many quarter notes in a whole note, or eighth notes.”
“Good comparison,” she said.
“Can we go to the Detweilers’ now? I want to do my playlist.”
“Works for me. Let Bailey out first, and I’ll tell the workers we’re going.”
Before they left, Morgan called Sarah to make certain they weren’t intruding. Cole had said Randy kept more regular hours unless there was a case to work on, and she imagined last night’s events at Burger Hut might be keeping him busy, or he might be catching up on sleep.
“No, that’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “He slept in this morning, but he’s at work now. I heard you were there, and so was Austin. Was it scary?”
“Yes. Thank goodness it didn’t last long, thanks to Cole. Officer Patton.”
“Yeah, Randy told me how he kept his cool and subdued the gunman. I’m glad I wasn’t there.”
“Must be nerve-wracking, being married to a cop. Even a detective has to take risks, right?”
“Even more so in Pine Hills. Randy and Kovak are detectives, but they’re also all-around cops. Pine Hills isn’t big enough to have dedicated detectives, so they pull their weight on the streets, too.”
“Does that make it worse for you? Knowing he can be on the front lines? Do you ever wish he had a more ... normal job? A safer one?”
She laughed. “Like a cook at Burger Hut? Seriously, Pine Hills is normally a very safe place to live. I understood Randy’s job and what it meant before we got married. Any one of us could get hit by a car simply crossing the street.”
Yeah, but the odds were much slimmer.
~
AT THE DETWEILERS’, Austin was eager to share his playlist.
“Fifteen pieces?” Morgan said. “That’s a lot to practice. Something I like to do is narrow things down to my top five. Why don’t you put the stars by the ones you think are most important, and work on those?” She handed him a pen.
Brow furrowed, Austin starred five pieces, then took his sheet music envelope from the top of the piano and set his first choice on the rack.
“Warmup exercises first,” Morgan said.
With a groan, Austin opened his Czerny exercise book.
While Austin practiced, Morgan used the Detweilers’ Wi-Fi to continue her search for a suitable piano teacher.
“I think this is my number one piece for Momma,” Austin said, interrupting her search.
She set aside her laptop to listen.
Austin moved into Beethoven’s “Pathetiqué,” bringing tears to her eyes. The child’s love for music—and his mother—poured through his fingers into the melody.
She pulled out her phone and recorded his playing. When the piece ended, she said, “Stand up and take a bow” and captured that on her recording as well.