him listening to Rachel Wainwright’s voice. A familiar tension twisted his gut. “Detective Morgan, this is Rachel Wainwright. I’m calling about the DNA in the Jeb Jones case. Have you heard from the state lab? Call me.”
He hit delete. She never made an effort to soften her requests. No please or thank you . She was all hard angles and edges. Not the kind of woman he pictured snuggling next to on a long winter night.
A knock at his door had him raising tired eyes to a uniformed officer sporting a dolly stacked high with dusty brown boxes. “Officer Morgan, you requested files on the Annie Rivers Dawson case?”
Deke rose, surveying the hefty stack of boxes. “I did. Tell me that’s all you have.”
The short, stocky officer grinned as he backed the dolly into the room. “Got one more pile as big as this one.”
“Ten boxes.”
“It was the case back in the day. Had every cop in Nashville working on it.”
“Right.” He jerked his head toward a corner. “Start piling them there.”
The officer tipped the dolly back and moved it across the room. As he started to unload, he added, “You gonna go through all these?”
He lifted the lid of a dusty, yellowed box and glanced at the files packed so tight it would take a crowbar to wedge one free. “Not unless I have to.”
“You think the DNA will go against you?”
“It pays to be prepared.”
“So you do think there could be a problem?”
“No. I don’t.” He closed the lid. Better to cut rumors off at the knees. “I’m curious, that’s all. Keep loading. I’ll be back.”
He headed to the forensics lab where he found Brad Holcombe. In his late thirties, Brad had a thick, stocky frame that built muscle as easily as it did fat. Lately, months away from the gym had softened the muscle and robbed the man of color. Red hair swept over freckled skin that burned with the slightest kiss of the sun.
“Brad,” Deke said.
Brad looked up from a pair of overalls laid out flat on a large table. In one hand he had a magnifying glass and in the other a set of tweezers. “Deke. Come to ask about the DNA?”
He wanted free of this case and Buddy’s shadow. “I have. Heard anything?”
“I called last night before I left the office. It should be here in a few days.”
The door to the lab opened and his sister, Georgia Morgan, pushed into the lab, bursting with her customary gust of energy. Unlike her brother, Georgia had a fair complexion and blond hair that she kept twisted into a bun at the base of her skull while working. She had soft cheekbones, a heart-shaped face and full lips that easily split into a wide grin. A bundle of energy, she couldn’t speak without using her hands or keeping her voice from rising or falling with emotion. “What will be here in a few days?”
Deke sipped his coffee. “Lab results.”
Georgia scrunched up her face. “The Annie Rivers Dawson case?”
She’d been born with radar. “That’s right.”
“I saw the stacks of boxes in your office.”
He’d hoped to avoid any drama with Georgia. “I must have missed you.”
She dropped her backpack on her small corner desk and shrugged off her sweater. “Thought we could invite the clan over to the Big House in a couple of weeks.”
“Why is everyone coming over?”
“It’s brother Alex’s birthday.”
“Birthday.” He’d forgotten.
She shook her head, an annoyed brow arched. “Yeah, I know. Not on your radar. That’s my job to keep this rag-tag group of Morgans together. But I live in a one bedroom apartment and you’re camped out in the Big House, so you’re gonna have to host.”
“Fine.”
Since their mother’s death, Georgia had tried to honor the birthday party tradition. The Morgan brothers had played along while Buddy was alive but now all had scurried away like rats on a sinking ship.
“I’m baking a cake like Mom always did,” she said.
Deke grimaced as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “What if I pay you to buy one from a
He hit delete. She never made an effort to soften her requests. No please or thank you . She was all hard angles and edges. Not the kind of woman he pictured snuggling next to on a long winter night.
A knock at his door had him raising tired eyes to a uniformed officer sporting a dolly stacked high with dusty brown boxes. “Officer Morgan, you requested files on the Annie Rivers Dawson case?”
Deke rose, surveying the hefty stack of boxes. “I did. Tell me that’s all you have.”
The short, stocky officer grinned as he backed the dolly into the room. “Got one more pile as big as this one.”
“Ten boxes.”
“It was the case back in the day. Had every cop in Nashville working on it.”
“Right.” He jerked his head toward a corner. “Start piling them there.”
The officer tipped the dolly back and moved it across the room. As he started to unload, he added, “You gonna go through all these?”
He lifted the lid of a dusty, yellowed box and glanced at the files packed so tight it would take a crowbar to wedge one free. “Not unless I have to.”
“You think the DNA will go against you?”
“It pays to be prepared.”
“So you do think there could be a problem?”
“No. I don’t.” He closed the lid. Better to cut rumors off at the knees. “I’m curious, that’s all. Keep loading. I’ll be back.”
He headed to the forensics lab where he found Brad Holcombe. In his late thirties, Brad had a thick, stocky frame that built muscle as easily as it did fat. Lately, months away from the gym had softened the muscle and robbed the man of color. Red hair swept over freckled skin that burned with the slightest kiss of the sun.
“Brad,” Deke said.
Brad looked up from a pair of overalls laid out flat on a large table. In one hand he had a magnifying glass and in the other a set of tweezers. “Deke. Come to ask about the DNA?”
He wanted free of this case and Buddy’s shadow. “I have. Heard anything?”
“I called last night before I left the office. It should be here in a few days.”
The door to the lab opened and his sister, Georgia Morgan, pushed into the lab, bursting with her customary gust of energy. Unlike her brother, Georgia had a fair complexion and blond hair that she kept twisted into a bun at the base of her skull while working. She had soft cheekbones, a heart-shaped face and full lips that easily split into a wide grin. A bundle of energy, she couldn’t speak without using her hands or keeping her voice from rising or falling with emotion. “What will be here in a few days?”
Deke sipped his coffee. “Lab results.”
Georgia scrunched up her face. “The Annie Rivers Dawson case?”
She’d been born with radar. “That’s right.”
“I saw the stacks of boxes in your office.”
He’d hoped to avoid any drama with Georgia. “I must have missed you.”
She dropped her backpack on her small corner desk and shrugged off her sweater. “Thought we could invite the clan over to the Big House in a couple of weeks.”
“Why is everyone coming over?”
“It’s brother Alex’s birthday.”
“Birthday.” He’d forgotten.
She shook her head, an annoyed brow arched. “Yeah, I know. Not on your radar. That’s my job to keep this rag-tag group of Morgans together. But I live in a one bedroom apartment and you’re camped out in the Big House, so you’re gonna have to host.”
“Fine.”
Since their mother’s death, Georgia had tried to honor the birthday party tradition. The Morgan brothers had played along while Buddy was alive but now all had scurried away like rats on a sinking ship.
“I’m baking a cake like Mom always did,” she said.
Deke grimaced as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “What if I pay you to buy one from a
Similar Books
