Page 72 of Decoding Morse

“Yet someone shot out her window.”

“Because you insisted she come here, putting her life in danger.”

“We didn’t know.” Mom faced me. “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

Did she not hear how crazy it all sounded? “Would you have believed me?”

My parents seemed to consider the question for a split second, but neither answered.

“Morse and his fellow veteran bikers have been protecting me,” I said.

Mom’s smile turned saccharin. “That’s wonderful to hear, dear. It was a pleasure to meet you, Morse, but we need a word with our daughter now,” she said.

Morse didn’t move.

Mom’s smile slipped. “Alone.”

Morse dipped his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that can’t happen.”

“Why the hell not?” Dad asked.

“Because Amelia’s in danger, and I’m not letting her out of my sight until the threat has passed.”

Morse’s protective declaration warmed my insides even as Dad’s frosty glare chilled the room.

“You should get back to school, Theodore,” Dad said.

“Yes, sir.” Theo stood, his expression apologetic when he faced me. “But you are okay, right, Mom?”

I nodded. “I am. Thanks to Morse.”

My son reached across me and shook Morse’s hand. “Thank you.”

I hugged Theo, and he left.

Then Dad picked up right where we’d left off. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m perfectly capable of protecting my daughter in my own home.”

“Based on what?” Morse asked. “You can’t beat off a sniper with a golf club.”

I should probably put an end to this, but then again, why? I had to play nice, but Morse wasn’t bound to the same restraint. We weren’t his monkeys, and this certainly wasn’t his circus. He didn’t have to walk their tightrope. In fact, it was a relief to hear him speak his mind. Most people groveled at my father’s feet.

Dad shot off the couch, eyes flaring with belligerence and hands shaking with rage. “Get out of my house.”

Morse leaned back on the sofa, unbothered. “I’m not going anywhere until Amelia does.”

Dad brandished his phone. “I’ll call the police and have you arrested.”

Morse shrugged, nonplussed by the posturing. “You could. It would be stupid since you know nothing about me, but you could.”

Dad hesitated.

“On the other hand, I have learned all sorts of fascinating facts about you,” Morse continued. “The deals you’ve made tokeep your administrative position at the hospital. Evidence you buried about the Horst case. Email addresses of board members who might be interested in the details.”

Holy shit.

I had no idea what Morse was talking about, but judging by the color draining from my father’s face as he collapsed back onto the sofa, he did. I gaped at Morse, both alarmed and turned on by the malice in his eyes.

“You see, Mr. Hutchensen, information is what I deal in. I’m not someone you can bully or frighten away. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you have to say to your daughter, you can say in front of me.”

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