Let Me In - Adam Nicholls (e book reader pdf .TXT) 📗

The very next night, Morgan found himself at the charity hall. He was not only redeeming himself for missing the previous speech, but it was exhilarating to see everything Rachel had done. People were filling up the hall with great speed, making new friends at the snack bar, sharing information, and introducing foster kids to potential parents. Some even made an effort to say hello to Morgan himself, shaking his hand with wild enthusiasm and complimenting his wife to the highest regard. But they didn’t need to tell him how wonderful she was—he already knew, and the scene before him elevated his pride to new heights.

After putting out another couple of chairs and refilling the water jugs, Morgan spotted Gary and Hannah across the hall. Hannah was laughing at something their company had said, her blonde hair swishing around as her head jerked, but Gary stared at the floor in hard contemplation. It wasn’t difficult to see he was suffering the worst days of his life. Morgan just wished he could do something about it and vowed to catch him when he was less busy.

Minutes later, more people joined the hall. The air grew hot very fast, but Morgan made an effort to stand near the door and welcome the latecomers, some attending as couples or families, while others came alone to see what the fuss was all about. It made no difference to Morgan how they came, as long as his wife’s hard efforts were being respected. They clearly were, as evidenced by another new arrival declaring how much they liked her.

It was as if she’d heard her own name mentioned. Rachel came squeezing through the crowd in her black pantsuit, looking both stunning and respectable. But Morgan barely had time to appreciate her appearance before he noticed the woman she dragged by her hand. It would’ve looked suspicious, like they were engaged in a romantic relationship or something, had they not both been smiling from ear to ear.

“Morgan, honey, you’ll want to hear this.” Rachel yanked the hand with surprising strength, and a tired-eyed brunette with a little too much makeup stumbled to her side. “Tell me you recognize this woman.”

“Uh…” Morgan stuttered and laughed, his eyes dashing from one to the other. “You make it sound like we’ve been having an affair. Am I in trouble?”

The stranger laughed.

Rachel didn’t.

“Go on,” Morgan encouraged her.

“This is Emma Cole!”

There wasn’t a word to describe what happened to Morgan’s heart at that moment, but if there was it would probably be something along the lines of “glitched.” The name rang too many bells too fast, and blanks from his school years filled in automatically. It was a strong, familiar feeling that didn’t come without hope—the kind of hope that made you realize you’d been missing something all along. If only he could figure out what it was.

“I have another speech in five, so I’ll leave you to it,” Rachel said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek and then rubbing off the print left by her lip gloss. She raised a gentle hand to Emma’s elbow and grinned before fleeing into the distance, leaving him with the familiar face.

Now it was just the two of them, and all Morgan could think was how awkward it was.

“You know, I apologize,” Morgan said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I know your name, and I know your face. I even have a very vague memory of us kissing in kindergarten. But I can’t figure out much else. We were friends once?”

Emma laughed. It was a pleasant sound that didn’t match her harsh features. “No.”

“Sweethearts?”

That laugh again. “We shared some classes, but that’s it. I was talking to your wife—who’s lovely, by the way—about what’d happened since school. I guess she remembers me a little better than you do. Anyway, it came up that you’re an investigator of some kind?”

Morgan nodded, wondering where this was going. “A private investigator.”

“Right, and you’re investigating the DC Carver case?”

Now his curiosity was piqued. It wasn’t every day you were reunited with a classmate from over two decades ago, but when their first words fell in line with your current homicide investigation, you had to stop and ask questions. “Do you know something I don’t, Miss Cole?”

“Maybe. And it’s Mrs.”

“Oh. You weren’t always a Cole?”

“I was. I just didn’t change my name when I married.” Emma grinned—an excitable grin of somebody on the cusp of solving one of life’s big mysteries. “Anyway, I was remarking to my husband about the two victims and how sad it was that somebody would do that to them. They could be bitches, sure, but does anyone really deserve to die? I don’t think so, and certainly not like that.”

There it was again—that glitching of his heart. It was like it stopped and raced at the same time, cutting off his blood flow while racing it through his body. It made Morgan dizzy, his knees weak. “You knew them? Both of them?”

“Sure. We were best friends.”

Morgan’s mouth hung open in shock at the wealth of information he could salvage from this woman. It was perfect, like she’d come from nowhere to save the day—Supergirl in all her glory. “So then, I’m guessing we should—”

The lights dimmed, and everyone’s voices fell to whispers. The only light that remained was on the stage where Rachel walked to the center. Each click of her heels silenced another viewer until the room was in complete tranquility. It was a confusing time for Morgan, having to bury his excitement and replace it with pride. At least temporarily.

“We should talk,” Emma finished for him. “After this?”

“Definitely,” Morgan whispered without removing his loving stare from Rachel. “I’d really love to pick your brains about this. Maybe meet me out front when this is over?”

Emma patted him on the shoulder as she passed. “I’ll be there.”

Now that his luck was changing for the better, Morgan stepped back and closed the door, shutting out the cold air. He then rested against one of the tall marble pillars and watched his wife give the most engaging speech he’d ever heard. Every word she spoke felt like she truly believed she could make a difference. And maybe she could—he sure had faith in her.

But it wasn’t just the event that made him smile.

Morgan had found some common ground between the victims. A stranger from the past, stopping by as if from nowhere to offer some insight as to why these murders were linked. Between that and watching Rachel on stage, knowing that everyone in the room adored her, how could he have been any luckier? It felt too good to be true.

And it was.