Christmas Haven (7 page)

Morgan stepped inside to the frenzy of Edith cleaning out supplies beneath the sink.

“Mrs. Burns, you really don’t need to—”

“Sure I do. I want to earn my stay, don’t I? Besides, I love to clean.”

Morgan glanced at Julie. “She does,” Julie said. “Lana and I called it a CD—cleaning disorder.”

“A clean house is the sign of a peaceful mind,” Edith shot over her shoulder.

“I’ll take these upstairs.” He carried the suitcases up the stairs and deposited them in their respective rooms. Edith had her hands full by attacking the kitchen, so he’d take care of putting fresh sheets on the beds. Morgan opened the hall closet and pulled out a set of sheets for Dad’s bed, and Morgan’s.

Julie. Staying in Morgan’s room. Surrounded by his personal trophies, which included keepsakes from their relationship: notes they’d shared in school, the silver cross she’d given him for his sixteenth birthday and the one photograph he couldn’t bring himself to rip up—the photograph of Julie on Twanka Cliff gazing across Puget Sound.

Snap out of it.
He needed to move this case forward and send her back to Seattle, not get dragged down into the past.

He shook his head and shut the closet door. Julie was standing there, holding out her hands. “Here, I’ll help. It will go quicker.”

He passed her a set of sheets. “Dad’s bed” was all he could say.

With a smile, she took the sheets and disappeared into Dad’s room. He figured he had just a few minutes to “Julie-proof” his room—hide whatever keepsakes he could find before she moved in.

The sound of humming echoed across the hall, a habit of Julie’s since she was a kid. He found the photograph and silver cross and shoved them in the bottom drawer beneath some old clothes. The box of love notes was on the top shelf of the closet.
There’d be no reason for her to go digging around up there, so he got to work on the bed.

As he stripped off the sheets, he remembered the many nights he’d lay here, holding the phone to his ear, whispering endearments to his high-school sweetheart.

A long time ago. He’d grown up, let go of the Julie dream and had moved on. Who was he kidding? If he’d moved on there wouldn’t be a box of keepsakes in his closet.

Hovering in his room, picturing himself talking to her late at night, started an ache in his chest he most certainly didn’t welcome, or need, right now.

She’d left because Morgan wasn’t what she’d wanted; he wasn’t good enough, period. He was no match against her goal of moving to the city and counseling kids, and probably finding some citified guy to fall in love with. And for the second time in his childhood—at eighteen, just as he was about to embark on the beginning of adulthood—Morgan had been abandoned.

He snapped the clean sheet over the mattress and made the bed, struggling to shelve his memories and get his pain in check. He’d need a clear head if he were going to keep Julie and her mom safe.

“Need help?” Julie said, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Nope, I’m good,” he said, not looking up. He slipped a fresh case on the pillow and tossed it on the bed. “We’d better get to Seattle.”

They went downstairs and Julie hesitated, turning to Morgan.

“Thanks again for helping us.”

“It’s my job,” he said, hoping to convince himself that his job was his primary motivation.

“I know, but letting us move in here is really going above and beyond. I mean, we could have rented a room at the Port Whisper Inn or something.”

“You’re safer here, with me.”

“You sure about that?”

“I may be a small-town cop, but I know my business, Julie.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Let’s check on your mom.” He brushed past her, needing to put space between them. How was he going to do that when they had to spend the next three hours in a car together?

“You okay in here, Edith?” Morgan said coming into the kitchen.

She wasn’t alone. Caroline Ross was unloading boxes lined up on the counter.

“Hi, Chief. Thought I’d help stock the kitchen,” Caroline said.

“Great idea,” Julie said, walking around Morgan. “Mom thinks she’s superwoman, but even superheroes need a partner.”

Julie gave her mom a hug. “We have to get going.”

Mom dried her hands on a checked towel Morgan didn’t recognize, and held her daughter’s hands. “I know this is going to be hard, sweetie. Keep the Lord in your heart and He’ll see you through, okay?”

“Sure.” Julie slipped her hands from her mom’s and made for the back door.

Morgan wondered if Edith knew how much distance Julie had put between herself and God. Jules went out the back door and Morgan nodded at her mom.

“I’ll take good care of her, Edith.”

“I know you will. God bless, Morgan.”

“Thanks.”

We’re always right behind you.

The mystery caller’s threat echoed in Julie’s head, over and over again, as they headed to the ferry. She caught herself checking the side-view mirror for the umpteenth time.

“It’s okay. No one’s following us,” Morgan said, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

He was reading her mind again, sensing her trepidation. Was that a good thing or bad? She wasn’t sure, and she really didn’t know how to talk to him without setting him off. She’d tried
to thank him for opening his father’s home as a sanctuary, but Morgan took offense, assuming…what? From his reaction he assumed she was questioning his ability to protect her, being that he was nothing but a small-town cop.

That wasn’t what she’d meant and she’d tried telling him so, but he’d shut her down. No, when she’d asked if he was sure about her being safer with him, what she really meant was that their close proximity could open up a plethora of emotional wounds sure to drive them both nuts. And make them question everything about the past ten years.

At least it would for Julie.

She fought back the self-questioning spiral. She was tired, that’s all. After the challenge of pulling straight As in college, finding a job that would satisfy her need to do good work and then watching teens fail, no matter how hard she’d tried to save them, Julie was suddenly drained and vulnerable to so many things.

It would be too easy to fall into Morgan’s arms again. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She’d put him through enough and sensed he hadn’t forgiven her for their breakup.

Guilt ripped through her chest. She closed her eyes. She’d done the right thing. She’d sacrificed their love so both she and Morgan could pursue their own dreams. It had been the honorable, mature thing to do, right?

Don’t fool yourself, Jules. It had less to do with honor and more to do with your desperate need for redemption.

With a sigh, she fought back the niggling voice that had haunted her all these years.

“I picked up a new phone for you,” Morgan said, interrupting her mental analysis.

“Great, thanks,” she said. He actually instigated a conversation. That had to be good, right?

He handed her the phone. “Give the number to your family. I’ve programmed my number as speed dial 1. I’ve turned off the GPS so you can’t be traced, except for 9-1-1 calls. Do you
need anything from your apartment? More clothes, toiletries, anything like that?”

“I could use some warmer clothes.”

“We’ll stop by after we meet with Ethan.”

“It’s great that you keep in touch with him.”

“Yep.”

“Does he like his job with the Seattle P.D.?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“I heard you were with King County Sheriff’s police.”

“I was.”

“How’d you like that?”

“Fine.”

So much for pleasant conversation. He was being civil, polite…detached.

Fine, she’d respect his method of self-preservation, even if it felt as if he was being rude.

They spent the next few hours in silence, guilt gnawing its way through her conscience: guilt for breaking Morgan’s heart, guilt for not being able to save more runaway teens…

Guilt for not being there for Suzy when she’d needed Julie the most.

Because Julie had been with Morgan.

Boy, going back to Port Whisper last night had really messed with her head. She’d intellectually resolved her issues with Suzy’s death, at least she thought she had. But Julie considered that somewhere, deep down, the guilt still fueled her every decision.

They arrived at the medical examiner’s office in the Harborview Medical Center. Ethan Beck, a tall man with dark, cropped hair and sky-blue, eyes was waiting for them in the family lounge.

“Julie Burns, how are you?” Ethan extended his hand but Julie went in for a quick hug. Ethan had been a good influence on Morgan growing up, and she’d always be grateful to him.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “Had I known you were a
Seattle cop I would have come to you instead of running to Port Whisper.”

“What, and miss getting personal attention from a police chief?” he teased.

“Let’s ID the body,” Morgan said, irritation in his voice.

Ethan’s expression hardened. “Why don’t you have a seat in the family area. I’ll get the photograph.”

“You mean, I won’t have to actually see the body?” Julie asked, slightly relieved.

“No, wait here. I’ll get the medical examiner.”

As Ethan went down a long, gray hallway, Julie couldn’t help but remember Andy’s mischievous smile and determined attitude. He was a fighter, and she thought he’d changed his battleground. She’d thought he was fighting for a healthier, productive life.

Yet now his body, a shell empty of spirit and personality, most likely lay on a cold slab down the hall.

Hugging herself, she released a sigh.

“Jules?” Morgan said.

She glanced at him.

“It’ll be okay.”

She bit back a frustrated retort. If she heard “It’ll be okay” one more time, she was going to lose it and scream.

“Thanks,” she said.

Ethan walked toward them accompanied by a middle-aged woman in a white lab coat. She carried something in her hand: the photograph.

Julie’s pulse raced into her throat at the thought of what Andy would look like. They approached her and the woman offered a consoling smile. “He was beaten up pretty bad, but his face is identifiable. Are you ready?”

Julie nodded and Morgan put his arm around her for support. “You can do this.”

And she could, as long as Morgan stayed close.

The medical examiner held up the photograph…

FIVE

T
he air rushed from Julie’s lungs.

She turned and buried her face against Morgan’s chest. “It’s not him.”

Relief warred with sadness as the image of the dead boy’s face seared into her brain. Bruised, broken, lifeless.

“It’s okay,” Morgan said, stroking her back. For a second the comforting gesture calmed her frantic heartbeat, then anger burned its way through her chest.

“It’s not okay, Morgan. He’s dead for no reason, and…and it’s all so ridiculously senseless.”

Julie walked away from the group and went outside.

“Jules,” Morgan called after her.

She couldn’t stop running, running from the image of death, the tragedy of a boy’s life ending in such a violent way. Running from the frustration that she hadn’t been able to save him.

Leaning against the cold cement wall just outside the door, she crossed her arms over her chest and fought back the sadness eating away at her.

“Jules?” Morgan touched her hair and she fought not to lean into his touch.

She glanced up at him. “I’m just so frustrated. I give everything I have to help these teenagers, I try to save them, point them in the right direction, and yet there’s a dead boy in there and I couldn’t do anything to prevent it and—”

“Hey, stop. You’re making it sound like it’s your job to save all of them. You didn’t even know that kid.”

“It doesn’t make it any less frustrating.” She faltered, glancing at the cement walkway. “To see him that way.”

“True, but it’s not your job to save the world, Jules. Talk about setting yourself up for failure. Come on, let’s swing by your apartment.”

With a nod, she stepped away from him, breaking contact. Although his touch seemed to calm her, she accepted the fact he was being polite, that’s all. She didn’t want to rely or depend on Morgan, or anyone else, for that matter. She’d learned years ago, after Dad died, that people you depended on could be taken away, which is why she’d developed a healthy sense of self-reliance.

As they headed for Morgan’s truck in the parking lot, she refocused on Andy, stoking hope in her heart that he was still out there fighting his way back to safety.

“What’s your address?” Morgan said, turning on the car.

“It’s 109 John Street. It’s by the Seattle Center.”

“We should make it quick.”

“You think someone’s watching the apartment?”

“It’s possible.” He glanced at her and cracked a slight smile. “Nothing to worry about. You’ve got your trusty bodyguard.”

She wanted to smile back, but couldn’t focus past the image of the dead boy.

“How do you do that?” she said.

“What?”

“Smile after seeing something so horrible?”

“It’s tragic, Jules, but death is a part of life. Besides, he’s—”

“Don’t say it.”

“What?”

“That he’s at peace with the Lord.”

“But—”

“Let me ask you something.” Jules squared off at him. “Where is God when these kids are fighting for their lives? When they’re abandoned by their parents, who are supposed
to love and care for them? When they’re sleeping in the freezing cold under an overpass, or…or digging in garbage cans for food?”

“With good comes evil, Jules. You know that. It’s not God’s role to fix everything for us. Challenges make us stronger, and faith in God gives us the strength to be able to carry our burdens.”

Julie shook her head and glanced out the front window. “He never listens to my prayers.”

“He listens. You’re just not getting the answers you’re expecting.”

“Whatever.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, argue or discuss God. It always frustrated her.

They headed past the Seattle Public Library and north on Fourth Avenue. Not wanting to be obvious that she was leaving for an extended period of time, Julie had packed light, stuffing her backpack with essentials, figuring she could buy clothes when she got to Port Whisper, or better yet, borrow from Lana.