Dangerous Lies
EXCERPT:
Chapter 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 who he was. 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. Someone did run 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.”
“I was terrified Oliver’s killer would come after me.” Megan gestured to the emails. “Honestly, who's to say these emails aren’t from him? They talk about vengeance, but that could mask the real purpose for wanting to hurt me. I’m the only witness to what happened that night. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I started receiving threats shortly after the investigation into the accident was reopened.”
Jax lifted a shoulder. “How do we know you didn’t send these emails to yourself to garner sympathy?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Jax rose, palms planted on the table for leverage. He loomed over her. “No, I’m not kidding.” The anger in his voice was sharp. “This innocent act may work on some people, but I’m not buying it. I know what happened. You were high or drunk, you picked up my brother for a joyride, and then you ran off the road. You didn’t kill him on purpose, I’ll give you that, but he’s dead all the same. You’re guilty of negligent homicide and terrified of going to prison, so you’ll do whatever is necessary to muddy the waters of this investigation. Including sending yourself fake threats.”
Megan trembled. “That’s not true.” Her words came out weaker than she intended. Jax’s accusations, while false, raked against her survivor’s guilt. She blamed herself for Oliver’s death. She’d failed to maintain control of the vehicle. “I’m sorry for everything your family has gone through, but I’m telling the truth about what happened that night. These threats are real…”
He didn’t believe her. It was etched in every line on his handsome face. The contempt pouring from him was too much to take. She shrank back. Jax wouldn’t physically harm her, but he’d love to slap some cuffs on her wrists and haul her to prison.
A headache pulsed at her temple. In desperation, she sought out Noah. She met his gaze. “Please look into the threats. Reexamine the evidence from the accident. Someone else was there. We were run off the road.”
He gave a sharp nod, but his expression remained unreadable. Megan was normally intuitive. Reading people was a skill that came naturally, but right now, she had no idea what Noah was thinking. Would he follow up? Or would he ignore the threats the moment she stepped out of this room?
Either way, there was nothing more she could do. Her stomach swirled with a mixture of unease and frustration as she stood, gathering her purse and coat.
Jax rose to his full height. Broad shouldered and muscular, he had the physique of an athlete. A scar creased the edge of one furrowed brow. His shadowed jawline and dark mop of hair gave him a hardened appearance—the look of a man who had spent too much time in the trenches of life. Megan knew only a little about him personally. He’d worked undercover with the ATF for nearly ten years before joining the Knoxville Police Department. People described him as serious, dedicated, and uncompromisingly honest.
In another life, maybe they could’ve been friends, but Oliver’s addiction and his death had set them on a different path. To Jax, she was the enemy, the person to blame. And while Megan didn’t carry that same bitterness, trusting him would be foolish. After this meeting, she wasn’t sure she could rely on anyone in the police department.
It was a crushing and lonely feeling. One that reminded her far too much of her teenage years.
Jax’s piercing blue eyes followed Megan as she went to the door. As she reached for the knob, he said, “This isn’t over. I won’t stop until I get to the truth.”
Megan glanced over her shoulder, meeting his intense gaze. This time when she spoke, her voice was steady. “I pray that’s true.”
Their eyes held for a beat. A flicker of something—regret, confusion, or perhaps another feeling entirely—flashed across Jax’s face, but in the next moment, it was gone, hidden behind the same hardened mask she was familiar with.
Noah sat quietly. His rejection stung. She’d thought they were friends. Or at least acquaintances. At the very least, she’d hoped Noah would honor his oath to protect all citizens of the town. Megan ignored the wave of disappointment that struck her as she swung open the door to the interview room.
No one believed her. She was alone. Being stalked by God knows who.
It was terrifying.
Tears pressed against her eyelids. She wouldn’t cry. Not in front of all these people. Head held high, she crossed the main room of the police department and exited the building. A slap of cold air stole her breath. Megan quickly shrugged on her coat as she hurried across the dark parking lot toward the street. Her office was a short distance from the police department. It didn’t make sense to drive in the daylight, but the meeting had taken longer than expected. Now, with the cold January darkness pressing in, Megan regretted not taking her car.
Her heels tapped against the pavement. At this hour, traffic was nonexistent. The street lights flashed yellow. Megan jaywalked at an angle to the main square. Tree leaves whispered in the wind, the creepy sound heightening her anxiety. She huddled inside her coat and quickened her steps.
Clearview Counseling, her workplace, came into view. The converted shotgun house had a quaint charm, with white shutters and a small front porch. Megan worked there along with another two therapists and several members of support staff. The adjacent parking lot was empty save for her SUV tucked under the bright beam of a streetlight.
Megan fumbled with the fob to unlock the doors. The headlights on her vehicle flashed. She rushed into the driver’s seat, shivers racing through her body from the icy weather. She started the SUV and exited the parking lot. The pounding at her temple increased. A migraine was coming on. A stress headache. Megan might stave it off with a hot bath and a home-cooked meal.
Megan stopped at a red light at the edge of town. Nana and Pops would be waiting for her. The thought of her loving grandparents eased some of the tension in Megan’s muscles. Returning to Knoxville hadn’t been easy, but even with these recent threats, she didn’t regret it. Nana and Pops were advancing in years, and Nana’s recent bout with cancer had been a stark reminder of how precious their time together was. Megan intended to make the most of it. Her grandparents were all the family she had left.
The town faded as she followed the curve of Main Street. The engine hummed, and now that it’d warmed up, Megan reached for the knob to turn on the heater.
A shape loomed in her rearview mirror.
Megan screamed and nearly drove off the road as an arm encircled her shoulders like a vise, pushing her back against the seat. A round circle touched her throat, pressing hard. Her muscles locked in terror.
“Nice and steady,” a voice whispered against her earlobe. “I won’t hurt you as long as you do as I say. Got it?”
The man was crouched behind her, his face covered by a ski mask. Dim light coming from the dash of her vehicle illuminated the cold steel of the handgun pressed to Megan’s throat. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles went white. Terror clogged her throat. She wasn’t stupid enough to believe this man wouldn’t harm her.
The threats had been real.
And now, he was going to do as he promised in the emails.
He was going to kill her.
