Dangerous Lies (Badge of Honor #2)

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Prince of Peace Church stood in the heart of Knoxville, across from the main square and just down the road from the police department. The building, painted a pristine white, glowed warmly under spotlights that illuminated its steeple, crowned by a simple cross. Behind the church, a smaller building, connected by a covered walkway, housed the conference rooms and pastoral offices. Jax’s family attended the Catholic church on the west end of town, but he’d been to a few events here. The pastor, Simon Graham, was Dawson’s father.

Jax parked at the curb in the fire lane, positioning his vehicle to face the exit. He’d purposely arrived ten minutes late, hoping to keep a low profile. Judging by the number of cars crammed into the parking lot, there was a decent crowd attending tonight’s NA meeting. The thought sent a pang of sadness through him. Addiction touched so many lives. “I didn’t realize NA was so popular.”

Megan undid her seat belt. “It’s the only open meeting for fifty miles, so we get people from out of town too. There are online meetings, but they’re not the same. Being here, with other people, makes a difference.” She brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, glancing at him with curiosity. “I take it you’ve never been to a meeting?”

“No.” Jax shifted in his seat, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Someone suggested Al-Anon when Oliver started using, but…” He let the words trail off, his jaw tightening as shame prickled at the back of his neck. The admission was harder than he’d expected. “I didn’t go. Foolishly, I thought Oliver was the one in crisis, so why should I attend meetings to understand addiction? He was the one who needed to fix things. Then…”

Oliver died. And Jax was left wondering if his stubbornness, his pride, and his anger had gotten in the way of helping his brother. The thought gnawed at him, an ache he rarely let surface.

Jax exhaled sharply and stepped out of the vehicle, circling around to the passenger side. Instincts on high alert, his gaze swept over the parking lot before he opened Megan’s door. She slid from the seat, hooking her purse over her shoulder. Her bright red coat highlighted the natural flush in her cheeks and complemented her warm brown eyes, but it also stood out like a beacon against the dark night. He placed a protective hand on the small of her back, steering her toward the main doors of the annex.

The sensation of being watched tickled the space between his shoulder blades. Jax stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his hand instinctively brushing the holster at his hip.

No one was there. At least, no one he could see.

Jax breathed a small sigh of relief once they were inside. The warmth of the building hit him first, along with the indistinct murmur of voices from the conference room down the hall. He followed Megan through the entrance, her red coat swaying with each step. They slipped into the room, claiming chairs near the back. As expected, the meeting was already in progress.

The space smelled of coffee. Plastic chairs were arranged in rows with more lining the back wall. A middle-aged woman stood at the front, holding a cup of coffee as she shared her story. Her voice was steady but carried the weight of someone who’d fought hard for every step of her sobriety.

“I lost my family to my addiction,” the woman said, her gaze sweeping the room. “My daughter hasn’t spoken to me in five years. But staying sober, working the steps, has brought me closer to God and to myself. One day, I hope she’ll see that I’ve changed. I hope she’ll give me a chance.” She offered a wobbly smile. “But whether she does or not, I’ll keep doing the work. Because I deserve to be healthy. I deserve to live a good life.”

Applause filled the room as the woman took her seat, and another person stood to speak. It went like that for a while. Each story punctured a hole in Jax’s heart until his chest ached, and for the hundredth time that day, he replayed the earlier conversation with Megan. His gaze flickered to the gorgeous woman sitting at his side. She was focused on the speaker, completely unaware that she’d shaken his entire worldview in one conversation.

If you discover Wesley is behind these attacks on me, would you believe he was beyond forgiveness? Or would you recognize that he’s in pain, lost and separated from God?

That question had sucker-punched him. Jax had always considered himself a realist. He saw the ugliness in the world and expected it. Megan, however, saw the world through a lens of kindness and hope, always looking for the best in people even when they’d given her every reason not to. Sitting here, listening to the stories being shared, Jax could see why. These people had done terrible things, hurt the people they loved, and yet they were working hard to rebuild their lives. Struggling, failing, picking themselves back up and trying again.

Each of them was worthy of redemption and grace.

It made him think of Oliver.

Jax swallowed hard, his throat tightening. His brother had been in pain. Instead of turning toward God and his family, Oliver had used drugs to numb his pain. Addiction had been his coping mechanism. Would things have been different if Jax had been less angry and more open? If he’d tried to understand instead of judge?

He’d never know. And it haunted him.

When the last person finished speaking, Douglas O’Neal rose from his chair in the front row. The man adjusted his thick-framed glasses before scanning the room and nodding in Jax’s direction. They didn’t know each other well, but Douglas had been one of Oliver’s closest friends in high school—before the drugs drove a wedge between them.

Jax straightened in his seat. He’d never thought to question Douglas about Oliver’s accident, since the two of them hadn’t been speaking at the time. But maybe Douglas had information about Zeke. Or whether Zeke and Wesley had known each other.

Douglas smiled warmly. “A special thank-you to everyone who shared their story tonight. We have coffee and donuts in the back of the room, so please stay and visit for a while after the meeting is over. To close out, I’d like to invite us all to stand and join hands for the Serenity Prayer.”

Jax stood and accepted Megan’s offered hand. Warmth spread through him at the simple touch. He tried his best to ignore it, but this persistent connection between them was growing stronger.

Bowing his head, he joined in as Douglas led the group in prayer.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

A collective “Amen” followed. Applause rippled through the room before people broke off into smaller groups, chatting and laughing as the tension lifted. Across the way, Megan waved at a group of women, and one of them gestured for her to come over. She glanced at Jax.

“Do you mind? I won’t be long.”

“Go ahead. I wanted to speak to Douglas anyway.”

With a killer hunting Megan’s every move, time was of the essence. Jax crossed the room in long strides, catching up with Douglas at the refreshment table. His brother’s old friend greeted him with a warm handshake. “Hey, Jax. Nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

“It has. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain.” Douglas poured himself some coffee from a thermos, juggling a donut in the other hand.

“Mind if I pick your brain for a moment?”

“Not at all.”

Jax led Douglas away from the crowded refreshment table to a quieter corner of the room. From here, he could talk without interruption while still monitoring Megan. Douglas followed his gaze.

“This stuff with Megan… it’s crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m glad she has someone like you watching her back, but I was surprised to hear you volunteered for the job, considering the history.”

Jax tucked his thumbs into his pockets. “It’s a long story.” He studied Douglas. “How much do you know about the night Oliver died?”

“Only what Megan’s told me. I’ve heard the rumors around town and I know what your family thinks, but there was never any proof she was high that night. People in recovery relapse sometimes, but I don’t like assuming the worst. I believed what she told me.” His expression darkened, distant. “Still hard though. Megan was driving that night…”

Douglas shook his head, as if pulling himself from a train of thought. “Sorry. I got off on a tangent. What did you want to discuss?”

“I was hoping you could tell me about Oliver’s relationship with Zeke Russell.”

Douglas’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. “Zeke? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Why are you asking about him?”

Jax hesitated. “He may be connected to the attacks on Megan.”

“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me. Zeke was violent, and a bit unhinged. I only met him once, but that was enough.”

“When did you meet him?”

Douglas took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “You’re not gonna like this story. Zeke threw a chair at Oliver once, left a nasty mark on his back. When Wesley found out, he was furious. We drove to Zeke’s gym to confront him, and let’s just say it got ugly.”

Jax’s pulse kicked up. He’d suspected Wesley had confronted Zeke about hurting Oliver, but this confirmed it.

“Wesley won the fight,” Douglas continued, “but as we were leaving, Zeke swore he’d get even. I was worried, but I should’ve realized a guy like that was more bark than bite. He was a coward and let others—like Oliver—fight his battles for him.” He exhaled, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “After that, I begged Oliver to stop hanging around him. Wesley did too. I wish Oliver had taken our advice. He saved me from bullies when we were kids, and all I ever wanted was to help him.”

Douglas’s gaze grew distant. “I wish he’d listened to us about a lot of things. Going to rehab. Coming back to church. All of it. But you can’t force someone to accept help. They have to want it.”

Jax’s mind whirled as he processed Douglas’s words. Before he could ask another question, Douglas’s phone buzzed with an incoming message—just as Megan separated from her group and walked toward them.

“Shoot.” Douglas’s complexion paled as he read the text. “My mom’s been sick all week, and now she says she’s having trouble breathing. She thinks she needs to go to the hospital. I have to get over there, but I still need to lock up?—”

“We’ll do it.” Megan gestured for the keys clipped to Douglas’s belt loop. “Go take care of your mom.”

Jax wanted to argue. Staying behind to lock up after everyone left would leave them vulnerable, but what other choice did they have? He pulled out his phone to message Tucker, who was on patrol. If he could swing by as they were leaving, it’d give them an added layer of security.

“Megan’s right, Douglas. We’ll handle it.”

Douglas shot them a grateful smile as he passed over the keys. “Thanks.” Then he hurried toward the exit, tossing his coffee and half-donut in the trash on the way.

“I hope his mom’s okay,” Megan said, watching him go, concern tightening her features. “She had pneumonia two months ago and was in the hospital for over a week. She hasn’t fully recovered.”

“Let’s say a prayer for her.”

Megan’s expression softened. “Yes, let’s.” She took Jax’s hand, and together they bowed their heads. “Lord, we ask You to watch over Douglas’s mom. Give her the strength to fight off this illness. May she feel the loving touch of Your healing hands. Amen.”

Jax lifted his head but didn’t let go of Megan’s hand. He wasn’t ready to lose the connection just yet. The conference room had nearly emptied, only a few stragglers lingering near the exit. He glanced at Megan. “Is there anything special we need to do?”

“We need to pack up the pamphlets next to the door.” She gave his hand a small squeeze. “Before we do that, can you tell me what you and Douglas were talking about? It looked serious.”

Jax filled her in on their conversation. By the time he was done, the room was empty. Megan absently pulled out a box from underneath the table for the pamphlets. “I didn’t know Wesley and Zeke had gotten into a fight. That could explain the photograph left at the crime scene.”

Her brow furrowed. “Let’s lay it out. Zeke and Oliver get into an argument. Maybe it turns violent. Oliver calls me to pick him up, and when I do, Zeke runs us off the road in a fit of rage. But later, when he realizes he could be implicated, he goes into hiding. Then his gym gets raided because the police were already investigating him and his brother, Cody, for drug trafficking and the illegal fights.”

Jax picked up a stack of flyers about the 12-step program and placed them in the box. “Zeke lays low, starts over somewhere else. When the investigation stalls, he figures he’s in the clear—until you move back to Knoxville and I reopen Oliver’s case. Now he’s scared the truth will come out. So he targets you.”

“But he also needs a scapegoat,” Megan added. “Wesley is the perfect choice. So Zeke sends me threatening emails before the first attack, setting the stage to point the blame elsewhere. It didn’t go as planned, but he still drops the photograph of Oliver, Wesley, and you, trying to muddy the waters. He knows he’s going to make another attempt, and he needs the police looking in the wrong direction.”

Jax nodded. It fit. Too well.

Megan placed the last of the pamphlets in the box and secured the lid. “But there’s still something that doesn’t add up.”

“What’s that?” Jax took the box from her.

“What were Zeke and Oliver doing together in the woods?” Megan flipped off the lights in the conference room and locked the door. The keys jingled in her hands as they made their way down the hall toward the exit. “Why not meet at the gym?”

No one had ever explained why Oliver had been in the woods that night. His car was found abandoned on the side of the road with a flat tire half a mile from the accident.

“Zeke could have lured him out there intending to kill him,” Jax suggested, his voice low.

Megan’s expression tightened. “That makes sense. Oliver did say someone was trying to kill him when I picked him up. And Zeke is smart enough not to do it at his own gym.”

Cold air whipped across Jax’s face as he stepped out of the annex and into the night. His truck was the only one in the lot. He’d messaged Tucker, and the officer had promised to be there when they left, but maybe he’d been delayed by an emergency.

“Why kill Oliver though?” Megan twisted the lock on the exit door and then removed the key. “Zeke had a temper, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. Oliver was a star fighter. He drew crowds. Zeke was making a fortune off him.”

“There are a lot of unanswered questions?—”

The scrape of a boot against concrete was the only warning Jax had of another person’s presence. He dropped the box. It hit the ground and tipped over, flyers scattering across the walkway. Adrenaline surged. Jax whirled, placing himself in front of Megan even as he reached for his holstered weapon. His gaze scanned the parking lot, searching for danger.

There. A dark shape lurked at the edge of the building.

Someone was out there. Watching.

And Jax knew whoever it was had evil intentions.