“Doing just fine. We’re not as fast as we used to be, but we’re smarter and meaner.”
“Good to know.” She held up her finger. “Now, back to that house fire in the West End. I hear the victim was shot in the head.”
Working with the press was give-and-take. “You got yourself some good sources.”
“So you really think you found the killer?”
“We’re still doing some double-checking.” The case could easily be pronounced closed but, for reasons he couldn’t explain, something about it was too neat and easy. Lucky breaks did happen but not so much when he was around.
“And when you confirm, you’re going to call me, aren’t you?” She tossed him a wide grin with a conspirator’s gaze.
“You’ll be the first I’ll talk to.” Give-and-take.
“Darling, perhaps this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
“Right.”
When pigs fly.
Rick arrived at his home, the Big House, at five minutes to five for a family meeting. Since their mother and father died, the four siblings rarely met anymore. Georgia had tried to cobble together the fraying family ties but with each passing day and month, they grew thinner. After today’s bit of business, he wouldn’t be surprised if they snapped entirely.
The business was the final matter in Buddy Morgan’s estate. The house now belonged to Rick, and according to Buddy’s will, the owner of the Big House could not own more than ten acres of land. Deke had made it clear he did not want the land in exchange for the house so, as stipulated in the will, Rick’s land had to be offered to the remaining siblings, Georgia or Alex.
Georgia had declined the land but the remaining Morgan brother, Alex, had agreed to take it. No one had been more surprised than Rick. He’d assumed Alex’s job with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation kept him on the move so much he didn’t want to be saddled with land. And so the two brothers, via Georgia, had agreed to meet at the Big House to sign the legal papers transferring the land from Rick to Alex.
Deke and Georgia did not need to be present at the signing but, given the tension between Rick and Alex, both had offered to attend. So, by default, the Morgan siblings were having a reunion.
Rick helped Tracker out of the backseat and let him free so he could roam and take care of business. As Rick loosened his tie, he climbed the front steps and reached for the front door. As he fished in his pocket for keys, his gaze dropped to the lock and he froze. The door was slightly ajar.
Without thought, he reached for the gun holstered in his waistband. His nerves jingling, he eased open the front door. Memories of approaching the car on the dark stretch of road, gunfire, and searing pain flashed in his mind. The shrinks said he’d likely never forget that night, but perhaps the heart-pounding adrenaline would ease, given time.
The rattle of pots and pans had him hesitating even as he pointed his gun down the long hallway.
“Rick!” Georgia’s voice echoed out from the kitchen. “If that’s you, I’ll put my gun away.”
Relief flooding like a spring storm, he slid the gun back into its holster and shut the door. “I’m putting mine away too.”
Laughter drifted on the heels of more pots and pans clanging. “Sorry, my hands were full when I came in and I forgot to close the door.”
Down the hallway, he entered the dimly lit kitchen. “Where’s your car?”
“In the shop. Caught a ride with a friend. I figured I could hitch a ride back to town with you in the morning.”
His nerves danced as residual electricity jolted through sinew. “That works for me.”
Georgia had had a rough year and found staying at the Big House gave her the security she needed. Rick was glad for the company and had told her the door was always open. “I’m meeting a few friends in Franklin tonight so I’ll be back late. So don’t shoot.”
“Sounds good.” He moved to a high-tech console on the wall and pressed a button. Overhead lights blinked on, chasing away the gray light and the dark shadows.
Georgia set a serving platter on the new granite island he’d installed. “You’ve really done a great job. When you were tearing stuff up, I was a little freaked out.”
Rick arched a brow. “You hid it so well.”
She shrugged, knowing she’d been difficult and second-guessed him at every turn. “I must admit, you’ve dragged the old homestead into this century.”
He moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Hell of a project.” But the sweat and frustration had been deeply satisfying. He’d taken what had been his parents’ home and put his mark on it.
“I like that you saved Mom’s pots and pans and her china. It’s your space, but she’s still here.”
“That was the idea.” He twisted the top off the beer and took a long sip. “Do I smell food?”
“I stopped at the Mexican restaurant in Franklin and grabbed food for us.”
He picked up a tortilla chip and bit. “You figure we can’t fight if we’re eating.”
That jostled a laugh. “Then clearly you don’t remember our family dinners. Remember when you and Deke came to blows at Thanksgiving? You were fourteen and I guess he was sixteen.”
The fight had been over whose football team was the best. Banter had escalated into punches. Buddy had yanked the two apart and ordered them to eat the damn meal. The old man had also made the two clean up after every meal for a week.
“I think Alex and I can be civil. We’re just signing papers.” There’d been a time in the last year when he’d imagined pummeling Alex, but he wouldn’t tonight. He hoped.
Georgia blew out a breath as if she’d read his thoughts. “Food won’t stop you two from fighting but, maybe, it’ll slow you down.”
Rick sipped his beer, not wanting to recount any more family dramas. “Jenna said she’s almost finished with the picture of the Lost Girl.”
“Lost Girl?”