Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) Read Online Free Page B

think. Big, tall, gruff guy. I remember he was nice.”
    Nice. She’d heard her father described a lot of ways but nice had never been one of them. Buddy had been a crack detective, one of the best in the state, but he was tough as nails and single-minded.
    As if sensing her thoughts, Amber asked, “Was he your father? Can’t be a coincidence that you are a Morgan as well.”
    “You should be a detective.”
    Absently, she traced the curved edge of the table. “He told me he had a daughter who was about ten years older than me. That must be you.”
    “I guess so.” Georgia played her cards close, not wanting to give more information than she received. Buddy had taught her that trick. “So why did you come all this way to find me? You could simply have called.”
    Amber took a bit of bread. “I thought maybe I could help if I came to town. I’ve tried to move on, but what happened in those woods still dogs me.”
    As the adrenaline from the stage ebbed, fingers of fatigue now worked on her back and neck and reminded her of the early morning shift waiting for her. “Has any of your memory returned?”
    Amber took another bite. “No. And I have tried hypnosis and relaxation techniques, even visualization. Nothing works.” She tucked a blond strand behind her ear. “You said in your phone message that you’re reviewing all the files associated with the case.”
    “That’s right.”
    “How much have you read?”
    “All of it.” She could now boil down dozens of hours of reading into a few lines. “Three teenagers went into the woods and one, you, came out. The other two have not been found yet. You claimed memory loss. The trail went cold.”
    Amber collected the remaining bits of bread in her hands, watching the crumbs land onto the tabletop. “I had a grade-three concussion. The head injury not only erased the actual day but the days leading up to our trip into the woods. I’m damn lucky to be alive.”
    Georgia studied the young woman and recalled the facts. “Your head injury was significant. Rescue workers found you at the bottom of a ravine and theorized you hit your head on the rocks at the bottom. Broke your arm. Compound fracture. Some thought you were lying. That you did remember what happened and perhaps were even responsible.” She was never good at dancing around tough questions.
    “I know. The police questioned me more times than I can remember. They thought if they asked me the same question enough, I’d trip up. But I never did because I told only what I knew, which was the truth.” She flattened her palms on the table. “I simply don’t remember the woods, and the last memory I had starts three days before we went into the park.”
    Many a liar had crossed her path while on the job so she wasn’t quick to bite on any story. “You have no memory of anything in the woods?”
    Amber’s voice was steady and unwavering. “No. My hard drive was wiped clean.”
    “Okay.” That didn’t mean she believed her, but she wasn’t ready to argue the point now.
    “I’m glad you’ve reopened the case. Once and for all, I want to prove that I was also a victim and not some manipulative teenager responsible for what happened to those kids.”
    The intensity snapping with each quietly spoken word intrigued Georgia more than the words. “Tell me what you do remember.”
    Hearing the interest in Georgia’s voice, Amber relaxed a fraction as if she took comfort that someone might actually believe her. “I remember waking up three days before we had planned our hike at Percy Warner Park.”
    “We?” She knew but she wanted to hear it from Amber.
    “Mike Marlowe and Bethany Reed.”
    “You were all students at St. Vincent High School. Bethany was AP/Honors science. You were a solid if not underachieving student, and Mike was the dumb jock. Three unlikely classmates working on a science project.”
    “Yes.”
    A wrinkle furrowed in the center of Amber’s brow. “The project’s focus was