Page 1 of Dangerous Lies

ONE

“I’m being threatened.”

Megan Ingles placed a series of printouts on the scarred table. Voices and the sound of phones ringing filtered through the closed door of the interview room. It was shift change at the Knoxville Police Department. The cluster of officers surrounding her should’ve been reassuring, but the block of ice lodged in her core refused to budge. Too many problems plagued her, and one of them sat directly across the table.

Detective Jax Taylor. His expression was frozen in a permanent scowl, heavy brows furrowed over a set of piercing blue eyes. The first button on his shirt was undone, providing a peek of tanned skin along his collarbone. A five-o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. Smudges under his lower lashes hinted he hadn’t slept well lately. Megan imagined he’d been working night and day on his younger brother’s case. Oliver died ten years ago, but as far as the Taylor family was concerned, the pain was still fresh. So was the anger.

They blamed her for Oliver’s death.

Detective Noah Hodge pulled the printouts toward him and scanned the emails. Concern creased his features. Megan felt a flicker of relief. She didn’t know Noah well, but she was friendly with his wife, Texas Ranger Felicity Capshaw. They were a lovely couple, and Megan had the impression Noah was a solid police officer. She prayed he would take the threats seriously.

“How long have you been receiving these?” Noah asked.

“For the last month. They’ve all been sent to my business email. Initially, I dismissed them as someone’s idea of a sick joke, but lately…” A shiver ran down her spine. “The threats have grown more specific, and yesterday, it felt like someone was watching me leave work.”

She’d read the emails repeatedly, enough to have them memorized. Key phrases stuck with her.You can’t escape what happened that night… You’ll pay for what you’ve done… Justice will be served. I’ll make sure of it.

Her gaze drifted to Jax. His expression was stone cold. Unyielding and unconcerned. A spark of anger lit within her. “The emails started after it became public knowledge that you reopened the investigation into the accident. Someone is trying to scare me, and I’m worried they’re seeking vigilante justice for Oliver’s death.”

She’d often had nightmares about that night. Oliver had been terrified when she picked him up on a lonely stretch of country road. High on drugs, his ramblings made little sense. Except for one thing:He’s going to kill us.

Megan never found out whohewas. A truck—or some other large vehicle—came up behind her compact sedan and rammed them. Terrified, Oliver had grabbed the wheel of Megan’s car. While they struggled for control, the assailant rammed them again, sending their vehicle off the edge of an embankment.

Oliver was killed instantly. Megan, wounded and trapped in the wreck, sat all night next to her friend. Praying. Crying. Cold. Terrified that the attacker would return to finish the job. Now, with the investigation reopened, she feared not only that the killer might still be out there but that the renewed attention could expose her to further danger.

Goosebumps pebbled on her arms. Her gaze jumped between the two detectives. “Has there been any progress in finding the man who ran us off the road?”

Jax scoffed. “How could there be? We both know no one else was there.” He pulled the printed emails closer and scanned them quickly before setting the pages aside. His steely gaze met hers. “I’m tired of these games, Ms. Ingles. When are you finally going to tell the truth about what happened that night?”

She closed her eyes, struggling for patience. “I have.”

For a moment, Jax looked like he wanted to swear. Then he sucked in a breath and his expression shifted. He leaned forward, close enough for her to catch the scent of his aftershave. Something warm and spicy. His expression grew pleading. “My family has been through a lot. Losing Oliver… it’s created a hole we can’t fill. I know you cared about him too.”

She had. They’d been friends. A toxic relationship—Megan understood that now—but back then, Oliver had been the only person who truly saw her. He recognized her trauma. She saw his. Together, they numbed those deep wounds with drugs. Oxy, mostly, but sometimes meth. A horrible coping mechanism that had nearly destroyed her.

After overdosing and almost dying, Megan went to rehab. She got clean, rediscovered her faith, and started therapy. She tried to talk Oliver into getting clean too, but he wasn’t ready. So she cut ties with him as part of her sobriety program.

Megan shouldn’t have gone to pick up Oliver that night. They hadn’t spoken in months. But when he’d called, desperate and panicked, she’d gone anyway. Out of love for the friend she still cared about.

“Talking about what happened that night can be difficult.” Jax kept his gaze locked on her. His eyes were a dark blue, the color of the ocean before a storm. “You didn’t mean for it to happen. It was an accident. People make mistakes. I know that. Maybe you and Oliver had a lover’s quarrel.”

“No. We never dated.” Megan had answered that question before too. “Our relationship was platonic.”

“Okay, so you didn’t fight, but mistakes still happen. If you were high that night?—”

She slapped her hand down on the table. “I was not high.” Megan’s voice was too loud, her reaction too explosive, but her temper was fraying. The accusations weren’t new. She’d been fighting against them since the first investigation of the accident ten years ago. “I was sober, had been for months. Someonedidrun us off the road. Oliver’s killer is still out there. Why don’t you care about that?”

“There’s no physical evidence indicating anyone else was there,” Noah replied. His expression was blank, but there was a hint of confusion buried in his tone. As if he wasn’t sure who to believe. Megan or Jax. Both had theories about that night.

It frustrated Megan that no one believed her. In all fairness, she was partly to blame. Her rebellious teenage behavior had given her a reputation in Knoxville, and after the accident, she’d initially lied to investigators out of fear and worry for her own safety. But it’d been ten years. She was not the same eighteen-year-old. Now, Megan was a licensed therapist with a thriving practice in addition to running the local Narcotics Anonymous meetings. She attended church, donated her time to the library board, and took care of her elderly grandparents.

She’d worked hard to correct the mistakes of her past by being honest. A good member of the community. Most townsfolk had forgiven her, but there were some who still gave her the side-eye. Who believed she’d gotten away with murder.

People like Jax. Except he was a detective with the police department and had the power to uncover the truth. She needed him to listen with an open mind.

Megan blew out a breath and tried to steady her emotions. “I was not high that night. Oliver called me, I went to pick him up, and when I did, he said someone was after him. Then we were run off the road.” She leveled her gaze on Jax. “I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t believe me.”

He ignored her last statement. “You lied to investigators. You left town right after the accident.”

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