Dangerous Lies (Badge of Honor #2)

Chapter 19

NINETEEN

The next morning, Jax sat on the Ingles’s front porch, bundled against the icy cold as he watched the sky lighten with the rising sun. Sleep had been elusive. He wasn’t sure if it was the case or the memory of Megan’s kiss that had kept him up all night. Either way, he was bone-tired, on edge, and utterly confused. Not even a long run on the property had cleared his head.

Tires crunched over the driveway as a Knoxville Police Department vehicle arrived. Dawson climbed out, carrying two takeaway cups of coffee. His boots thumped against the porch steps. “Morning.” He handed over one of the coffees. “Triple expresso. Figured you’d need all the caffeine you could get, considering you texted me at three in the morning.”

Jax grunted and took a sip of the dark brew, but not even that could cut through the fog in his brain. “Megan survived yesterday’s drone attack by the grace of God, but the killer isn’t letting up. We still don’t know who is behind this or even why she’s being targeted.”

Jason and Connor had attempted to apprehend the drone pilot, but he’d escaped before they could. A neighbor reported seeing a dark blue or black Explorer parked on a dirt road around the time of the attack, but he had thought little of it—people often used that path for fishing.

No description of the driver. No license plate numbers.

They had nothing. More than a week into the investigation, and they were still no closer to uncovering the truth. It was demoralizing. Frustrating. Terrifying. Jax had designed layers upon layers of protection for Megan, and still, it almost hadn’t been enough. If the drone had flown lower… if the shooter had fired indiscriminately… things could have gone very differently.

Dawson tossed his cowboy hat onto the small table before settling into a rocking chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. The stillness of the morning settled around them, broken only by the chirping of birds waking from slumber. It should have been soothing. Instead, it only heightened Jax’s anxiety.

He slanted a glance at his old friend. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Dawson twisted the coffee cup in his massive hands. He was dressed for work in BDU-style pants and a thick jacket. A crisp wind swept across the porch, ruffling his light brown hair, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “We located the purchase order for the drone you shot down. The one that was pulled from the lake. Wesley bought it six months ago, shortly after moving back to Knoxville.”

The news hit Jax like a punch to the chest. His grip tightened around the coffee cup. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” Dawson sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this—I don’t want to be saying it—but Wesley has always been the primary suspect in this case. He has the means, the motive, and the capabilities of pulling something like this off. Zeke’s involvement never made much sense.”

“What are you talking about? The man has practically disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“True. We tracked down all the friends Megan told us about. No one has heard or seen from Zeke in ten years, except for his family. That’s strange, I grant you, but Zeke has no real reason to come after Megan now. Especially if he’s living somewhere else under a new name. Attacking her would only draw more attention to him, not less.” Dawson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re pursuing two cases at once. Oliver’s accident and these attacks against Megan. There’s never been proof that the same person is responsible for both.”

“So what? You think Zeke ran Oliver and Megan off the road and then just disappeared?”

“I think it’s likely.” Dawson grimaced. “We finally got the files from the sheriff’s department. Oliver was an informant for them, just as you suspected. I think Zeke found out somehow and attacked Oliver.”

Jax’s chest clenched. It should have made him feel better to learn his brother had turned Zeke into the police, but with Wesley as the prime suspect in these attacks against Megan, that news barely registered.

“Oliver got away,” Dawson continued. “He called Megan and asked her to pick him up. When she did, Zeke ran them off the road. He knew the sheriff’s department would suspect him, so Zeke fled town. Cody was questioned. Nothing came of it. I’m not sure he knew what Zeke had done.”

“He does now.”

“Yes.” Dawson’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “That’s why he’s worried about us searching for his brother. He doesn’t want Zeke arrested for murdering Oliver.”

Jax exhaled sharply. “So how do we know for sure Cody isn’t the one coming after Megan?”

Dawson shook his head. “The man has lung cancer. He’s far too weak to have pulled off the first attack on Megan.” He shot Jax a knowing look. “Cody’s guilty of protecting his brother, but that’s not a crime.”

Jax rose and crossed the wide expanse of the front porch. Trees lined the horizon, leading down to the road that stretched toward town. Dawn had fully come, painting the earth with a warm glow that made a dent in the frosty temperatures. He still felt as cold as ice crystals clustered on the grass though.

“Two cases, Jax. Two different perpetrators. Zeke is likely involved in Oliver’s death, and we’re pursuing that lead. As for the attacks on Megan are concerned…”

“You think Wesley is behind them.”

Dawson sighed. “We have to follow the evidence. First, there was the photograph dropped at the first attack—it indicates a family connection. Now we have proof that at least one of the drones was purchased by Wesley. It’s no secret your family blames Megan for Oliver’s death, and your brother hasn’t been himself since returning home.”

Jax’s hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket. The original photograph was in evidence, but he’d made a copy. Oliver’s face smiled brightly from the center of the picture, and every day since the first attack, Jax had stared at the brother he’d lost. Today, his attention was drawn to Wesley’s image. So young… so trusting. He fingered the edge of the picture where it had been ripped, right through his own younger face.

His brother had bought the drone. The revelation was both shocking and horrifying. Coupled with the photograph, it was clear why his colleagues suspected Wesley. Still, Jax couldn’t accept it. “Wesley wouldn’t do this. I know how it looks, but…”

He couldn’t find the words to defend it. A knot of stress twisted his insides, sending a sharp ache through his stomach. Megan’s neighbor spotted a dark-colored Explorer on a dirt road near the time of the drone attack. “Zeke has a black Explorer registered in his name. Wesley doesn’t. He has a truck.”

It was weak logic. Explorers were a popular SUV, and they were common in Texas.

“Wesley could have rented it. We’re looking into that.” The rocking chair creaked as Dawson rose. “I pray I’m wrong about this, Jax. I really do.”

The words were sincere. If anyone could understand his inner turmoil, it was Dawson. They’d spent most of their twenties and early thirties in separate cities on different career paths, but it hadn’t diminished the deep friendship forged during childhood. Dawson knew how much Jax loved his family.

He glanced down at the picture again. “Will Wesley be arrested?”

“He’s still only a person of interest at the moment. Chief Garcia wants to question him first before we move forward.”

Jax exhaled. Chief Garcia, Dawson, Noah—the entire force was composed of the best cops Jax had ever worked with. He needed to trust them to do their job.

After Dawson left, Jax lingered on the porch, staring at the photograph of his brothers. It didn’t offer any answers. His coffee cold and his fingers frozen, he turned with a sigh and went back inside the warm house. Music drifted from the kitchen. A piano piece, soulful and somehow uplifting. Jax followed the sound, unsurprised to find Megan sitting alone at the kitchen table.

She didn’t notice him at first. Morning light streamed in the window, caressing the delicate lines of her face. She was so beautiful… like a painting. The memory of their kiss yesterday flashed like a lightning bolt in his mind. It was followed by a storm of conflicting feelings. They hadn’t discussed the kiss yesterday, both of them pretending as though it hadn’t happened.

But it had. And Jax didn’t know what to do about it.

Megan must have sensed him watching, because she turned. “Good morning.” She averted her gaze, a wrinkle of concern crossing her forehead. “I saw you with Dawson on the porch, but didn’t want to interrupt. It looked like a serious conversation.”

“It was.”

His words hollow, Jax filled her in on their discussion. The music changed from a haunting piano piece to something more upbeat. He reached over and flipped off the radio, letting silence settle over the kitchen. The pipes in the old house groaned—Clay and Rose were awake, starting their day. Jax busied himself by making a fresh pot of coffee for them.

He sensed rather than saw Megan rise and move closer. Before she could touch him, he shook his head. He didn’t want comfort. Not now. Not when he was barely holding it together. “I’m okay. Noah and Dawson will do their job.”

Megan was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, she said, “You’re allowed to believe your brother is innocent.”

“I know that.” Jax snapped the lid onto the coffee canister and braced his hands on the counter. “But what if I’m wrong? I’ve been mistaken before. I was about you.”

“Then you cross that bridge when you get there. Until then…” Megan wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning her head on his arm. “Hold on to hope.” She tilted her face to smile up at him. “And eat chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.”

He chuckled, tempted to plant a kiss on her adorable nose. “For breakfast?”

“Yep. We can make chocolate chip pancakes.” She grabbed a mixing bowl from the drying rack next to the sink. “Nothing soothes the soul like carbs and chocolate, coated in maple syrup. I’m convinced calories don’t count when you’re running for your life from a deranged killer. Or, in our case, a weapon-enhanced drone.”

“Fair enough.”

Jax opened the fridge, pulling out ingredients as Megan listed them off. Despite everything pressing down on him—the case, the danger, the uncertainty—he relaxed as they argued over which recipe to use and fished out egg shells from the batter.

“You definitely didn’t inherit your grandmother’s cooking abilities,” he teased.

Megan tried to scowl but dissolved into laughter. “I know. I’m hopeless. Once, I tried to make brownies and ended up burning them. Nana has practically forbidden me from cooking alone.”

Jax took the whisk from her and nudged her aside with his hip. “Allow me.” He mixed the batter, adjusting the consistency with a splash of buttermilk. Pancakes had been a weekend staple growing up, something he’d made for his brothers when their mom worked double shifts.

Megan watched with admiration. “You’re a pro.”

“I don’t know about that, but at least we won’t end up with burned pancakes.”

She flicked a bit of flour onto his shirt before dancing away, laughing when he reached to retaliate.

A few minutes later, Clay and Rose entered the kitchen, and the space filled with warm chatter and the rich scent of fresh coffee. The easy rhythm of cooking, the jokes, the laughter—it all helped chase away the lingering worries.

For a little while, he let himself enjoy the moment.

Then, just as they sat down to eat, Megan’s phone beeped with an incoming message. She scanned the screen, her smile fading.

She glanced up at Jax, worry tightening her features. “We have a problem.”