Dangerous Lies (Badge of Honor #2)

Chapter 5

FIVE

Megan opened her eyes, and panic gripped her chest. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, the bedsheets felt rough and scratchy against her skin. Her heart rate spiked, and the pounding in her head intensified. Nausea churned as the remnants of a nightmare—running through the woods, chased by a masked killer—collided with the disorienting reality of her surroundings.

“You’re okay.” Movement on her left preceded a firm hand taking hers. The touch was unfamiliar. She turned her head to find Jax sitting in a chair next to her bed. His chin and cheeks were covered in thick whiskers, his dark hair a tousled mess as though he’d been running his hands through it. Faint morning light filtered through the window behind him.

Jax’s brows creased with concern. “Are you in pain? I can call a nurse.”

She shook her head to stop him, wincing at the sharp throb that followed the movement. The pain was manageable, a dull ache compared to the vivid terror of the nightmare that’d left her heart racing. Her surroundings sharpened into focus. A hospital room. She remembered being admitted last night for observation after being diagnosed with a concussion. It’d taken ten stitches in her scalp to close the wound from the pistol-whipping. Tests, bloodwork, an MRI, and a litany of paperwork had left her drained. She must’ve fallen asleep.

Jax released her hand and poured water into a cup. He held it to her lips, and the cool liquid soothed her parched throat. She felt as weak as a newborn, her hands trembling as she reached to take the cup from him. Megan drank again, the second sip easing her headache slightly more.

He frowned. “You look pale, like you’re hurting. The doctor said you could have pain medication. I’ll call a nurse?—”

“No.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. His shirtsleeve was soft beneath her fingertips. “As a former addict, I avoid taking prescription pain medication if I can help it.” Megan hadn’t used drugs in over ten years, but she was hyper-aware of how fragile that recovery could be. She drew in a breath and some of her nausea faded. “I’ll be okay. How long have I been asleep?”

“Only a few hours.” Jax reclaimed the chair next to her bed. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night. The man hadn’t left her side since climbing into the ambulance, except for the brief time she was changing into a hospital gown.

Jax’s protection was both awkward and comforting. Guilt, heartbreak, and anger were intrinsic to all their interactions, and yet, Megan knew he would never let anyone to harm her. He’d proven that last night when he saved her life. The gratitude she felt added a layer to their already complicated relationship. Megan wasn’t sure how to navigate the tangled mess.

“Is it common to avoid pain medication?” Jax asked, cutting through Megan’s thoughts. “For addicts, I mean.”

“Everyone is different, but as a general rule, it’s a good idea to avoid any addictive substances. Oxy was my drug of choice, so I’m especially careful with any kind of pain medication. I also have regular check-ins with my sponsor. Prayer helps too. Recovery isn’t a one-and-done thing. It’s a decision you make every day.”

“I’ve known a lot of addicts in my life, but none that were sober. Working undercover for the ATF might’ve given me a skewed perception of drug abuse.” His gaze grew distant, as if he was seeing something in his mind’s eye. “When Oliver started using, I couldn’t understand it. He had a football scholarship, excellent grades, a family that loved him. Yes, he struggled after his friend died in a car accident, but why throw his life away? It made me angry, and I didn’t respond well.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. There’s not a guidebook to tell you how to navigate such a difficult situation.” Megan’s heart tightened at the pain in his voice. “Oliver loved you very much. Deep down, we both knew that what we were doing was wrong, but drugs got rid of the pain. It’s an escape.”

Jax tilted his head. “What were you escaping?”

“My mom died. That’s why I moved to Knoxville to live with my grandparents. When I met Oliver, he understood me. We were both grieving. Drugs were a terrible way to cope, but neither of us understood the hurt we were causing to ourselves or others. Addiction changes your brain. It makes you lose sight of everything except your next fix.” She handed him the empty cup before resting her head against the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“My grandparents will be here soon.” Nana and Pops had rushed to the hospital the moment they learned Megan had been attacked. Once the doctor assured everyone she’d make a full recovery, Megan had convinced them to go home and get a few hours of sleep. “What are the chances they’ll bring coffee?”

“I’d say better than average.” Pops entered the room, carrying a tray of takeout coffees. His thick gray beard and full head of hair gave him a rugged, lumberjack look, especially paired with the flannel shirts he favored. Years ago, a nasty fall on a roofing job had left him with a slight limp, but nothing could diminish his steady strength.

He kissed Megan’s forehead. “Hi, Ladybug.” His gaze drifted to Jax and narrowed. “Detective.”

There was no love lost between Clay Ingles and the Taylor family. Jax may have saved Megan’s life last night, but her grandfather didn’t consider that payment enough for all the pain their accusations had caused his granddaughter. Still, she appreciated the fact that Pops was cordial… even if it was grudgingly.

Nana bustled into the room on her husband’s heels, her silver hair soft and fluffed like a cloud, rosy cheeks flushed with the brisk morning air. She carried a tray covered with aluminum foil. Megan’s mouth watered as the scent of yeasty bread filled the room. Rose Ingles had worked in a bakery for most of her career and, although she’d retired fifteen years ago, retained all her skills.

“I brought breakfast,” Nana said. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.” Megan wanted to weep with joy when her grandmother lifted the aluminum foil to reveal homemade kolaches. She’d missed dinner last night and, with the head injury, hadn’t felt like eating much anyway. But now her hunger roared to life. It was probably why she was still nauseated.

Jax rose from his chair. “I’ll step outside for a bit. Give you some time to talk.”

“Not without a kolache you won’t.” Nana gave him a pointed look, her soft smile leaving no room for argument. Unlike Pops, she held no grudges against Jax or his family. She’d counseled Megan to be patient with the Taylor family, to be understanding of the painful loss they’d suffered, and to forgive their need to throw misplaced blame on her shoulders.

Nana handed Jax a kolache wrapped in a napkin before turning to her husband. “Clay, give Jax his coffee, please.”

Pops grumbled under his breath but complied, holding the cup out stiffly.

Jax took it with a nod. “Thank you, sir.” He lifted the wrapped kolache and tipped his head in Nana’s direction. “Ma’am.” His gaze finally landed on Megan and his tone was soft as he said, “If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.”

Her heart inexplicably skipped a beat. Before she could think much of it, Jax was already halfway across the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Pops let out a frustrated sigh. “How long is he going to be hanging around for? I appreciate that Chief Garcia is taking these threats seriously, but I don’t trust that fellow. He’s caused us a lot of grief over the last few months.”

“He saved my life, Pops.” She gave her grandfather a knowing look. “I think that wipes the slate clean.”

Pops grunted in reply. Then he handed Megan her coffee, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “That reminds me. I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other, Ladybug. Why didn’t you tell us about the threatening emails you’d been receiving?”

Nana shot him a warning look. “Now, Clay?—”

“No, Nana. Pops is right.” Megan hated to disappoint her grandparents. She’d done it far too often. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about the emails weeks ago, but I didn’t want to worry you.”

Her grandfather’s posture eased, the hardness in his eyes softening to something closer to hurt. “Keeping us in the dark doesn’t stop us from worrying about you. It only hurts our feelings. Family takes care of each other.”

It was a motto he lived by. And it wasn’t just words. When Megan’s mother died of a sudden heart attack, her paternal grandparents had taken in a terrified and lost teenager without a whisper of complaint. Megan had repaid their love and support by rebelling. It was only after getting clean that she realized what a treasure her grandparents truly were. They were all the family she had left, and the only connection she had to her biological father who’d died when Megan was a baby.

Warmth flooded through her as Nana wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We love you, honey. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too.” Megan’s voice wavered as the reality of what had almost happened last night finally sank into her.

A knock interrupted the moment. Megan quickly swiped at the tear running down her cheek as Chief Garcia entered. His uniform was rumpled—probably from working most of the night—and the shadows under his eyes resembled bruises. Still, he offered Clay and Rose a warm smile and shook both of their hands before turning his attention to Megan. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you.” The coffee and her grandmother’s homemade kolache had eased her headache. She adjusted the blankets around her waist, feeling slightly embarrassed to be speaking to the chief while wearing a hospital gown. A silly thing, considering she’d nearly been killed last night, but still…

Nana, ever perceptive, reached into a bag and pulled out a shawl. Megan gratefully wrapped it around her shoulders while her grandfather offered the chief one of Nana’s kolaches.

Chief Garcia swallowed it down three bites, finishing the quick meal off with a bottle of water. “Thank you kindly, Clay. I haven’t eaten since dinner and that was a long time ago.” He tossed the empty bottle in the trash and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’m sorry to drop in so early this morning, but I have a few questions, Megan. Feel up to answering them?”

“Of course. Whatever I can do to help.” She wanted the man who’d assaulted her found as soon as possible.

“How many people have keys to your vehicle?”

“I have two sets. One I carry with me and the spare stays at home.” She frowned. “Why?”

He ignored her question. “Do you know if the spare set is accounted for?”

“It is,” Clay said. “I saw it on the hook this morning when I went to get my car keys.”

The chief nodded. “I figured as much, but needed to be sure.” He pulled out a pad from his front pocket and scribbled a note. “We believe the man who attacked you last night used a device to bypass your security alarm and unlock your vehicle. Normally, criminals use them to steal vehicles, but this time, it was to sneak inside and lie in wait. I’m deeply concerned this was a planned assault.”

“It’s the same man who wrote all those emails, isn’t it?” Clay demanded. “He’s out to hurt Megan.”

“We haven’t definitively linked the emails to the attack, but logic would dictate they’re probably connected.” Chief Garcia focused back on Megan. “I know I asked you this last night, but witnesses sometimes remember details after they’ve had time to process things. Are you sure there wasn’t anything familiar about the man who attacked you?”

Megan tightened her hold on the shawl and shook her head. “No, sir.”

“Have you had a run-in with anyone lately that made you uncomfortable? Had a confrontation with someone in town?”

She breathed out. “No, sir. I get whispers and funny looks from time to time—especially since the investigation into Oliver’s accident was reopened—but that’s normal. Knoxville’s a small town and people gossip. But no one has been aggressive or directly hostile.”

“What about Wesley Taylor?”

Megan blinked in surprise. “Oliver’s twin? Does he even live in town? Last I heard, he was in the military.”

“He moved back around nine months ago.” The chief frowned, keeping his gaze locked on her. “I take it you didn’t know that?”

“No.” She fiddled with the fringe of the shawl. “The last time I saw Wesley was at Oliver’s funeral. He told me to leave the church and stay away from his family.” She swallowed, the sting of that moment still sharp after all these years. “I haven’t seen him since.”

Nana placed a comforting hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Do you think Wesley has something to do with this, Chief?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a plastic evidence bag from his coat pocket. Inside was a photograph. “This was found near the lake. Do you recognize it, Megan?”

Megan took the bag from his outstretched hand. It was an old photo, worn and ripped on both sides, as if it’d been handled too many times. Oliver was on the left, young and carefree. His mop of dark hair was mussed, and he wore a football jersey. To his right were his twin, Wesley, and a younger Jax. The brothers were happy, arms wrapped around each other, caught in mid-laugh. The background was blurry and hard to distinguish.

“I’ve never seen this picture before.” She looked up at Chief Garcia. “Jax is in the photo. Have you asked him?”

“Yes, right before I spoke to you. He thinks it was taken just before he left for college, shortly after Oliver’s sixteenth birthday.”

“I wasn’t living in Knoxville then. Oliver and I became friends after I moved here during my senior year.” Confusion set in. “I’m sorry, you found this near the lake? So you think the attacker dropped it?”

“Possibly. It was discovered in the area where you and the attacker tussled.”

Megan shuddered, remembering the sheer terror of being yanked out from beneath the bush by her ankle. It was by the grace of God she’d survived.

“Have you spoken to Wesley?” Clay asked, his tone sharp and protective. “What does he say about this?”

The chief’s jaw tightened. “Officers went to his cabin but could not locate him.”

Silence hung heavy in the room. Megan’s mind spun. Wesley had never liked her—and she couldn’t blame him. Megan had been an integral part of Oliver’s drug days, a bad influence that led to his twin’s death. But why come after her now? It’d been ten years.

Then again, Wesley hadn’t been living in town until recently. Had he decided it was time to get revenge?

“I know you’re all worried,” Chief Garcia said, his expression both serious and understanding, “but my department is working hard to solve this case. What I don’t want is for assumptions to be made based on my questions or this photograph. Wesley is innocent until proven guilty. He may have nothing to do with this.”

Megan prayed that was the case. The emails were chilling. The attack, terrifying. Being assaulted by a stranger was bad enough, but that someone from the Taylor family—someone Oliver had loved and trusted—wanted her dead? It was far more personal. And more dangerous. The attacker hadn’t acted on impulse. He’d planned the assault carefully, which meant he might try again.

And that thought shook her to the core.