Chapter Two
Mason
I’m antsy as I pace my brother’s office. He’s on the phone with a client, and my patience is worn right now as I wait for him to finish up so I continue to pace to keep myself occupied.
“Jesus, Mase, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself,” he says as he hangs up.
“Fuck off.”
“Is that the only complete sentence you can say anymore? Get a better vocabulary, bro.”
If he weren’t my brother, I’d have punched him by now, but because he is—and my younger one at that–I refrain from violence.
“Can we talk about this case?” I ask, my voice clipped.
“Have a seat,” he gestures toward the leather chair in front of his desk.
I shake my head to decline his invitation. He releases a long, slow breath.
“Fine. I need you to look into a Mr. Arnold—Mr. David Arnold. His wife is my client, who’s been badly beaten. They’ve been married for about a year and she claims this is the first time he’s ever hit her. I don’t buy it, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for the moment. They had a fight over finances and he blew up at her. It seems he didn’t like her spending more than her allotted allowance without his permission. See what you can find on him.”
He throws a file in my direction. I pick it up, open it, and start pacing again. What is it with these men who hit women? My jaw clenches as my memories try to invade my mind. I push them away, before they can take over.
“Mase?”
“Yeah. Got it. Anything else?” I say as I grab the doorknob to leave.
“Yeah. You’ve got to get some rest, bro. I’m worried about you.”
I thrust the door open and hesitate momentarily because I want to tell him to fuck off. Instead, I decide not and head through the door. When I get outside, I take in a huge gulp of air and wonder why I always feel like I’m suffocating in that office. I worked in there for years and now, I feel like a trapped animal every time I’m there.
My hand runs instinctively through my overgrown brown hair. I need to get it cut but it’s the last thing on my to-do list. What I really need to do is have a drink so I can stop the dark, murky memories from taking hold of my mind. Unfortunately, however I have work to do so that will have to wait until later. At least I’m smart enough to keep the two separate and not let one interfere with the other.
I sit in my car and open the file on Mr. Arnold. It would seem that the man has a fair amount of money, which means he thinks he’s all-powerful, which also means he’s probably a controlling prick. Mrs. Arnold is considerably younger than him—at least twenty-five years and obviously a trophy wife, some would call her. Or a gold-digger. Either one would be suitable in this scenario. From the information in the file, Mr. Arnold divorced his wife of thirty years for the current Mrs. Arnold. He has three kids all in their twenties, who no longer speak to him. His ex-wife got a shit ton of money in the settlement, along with the house, boat, and dog. The divorce was finalized a year and a half ago and he wasted no time marrying again. What a douche.
Gabe wants me to get whatever information I can to incriminate Mr. Arnold so that he has a solid case against him. This, I have no doubt, will be easy enough to do. Guys like him aren’t usually that careful and if they are, they slip up eventually, and I’ll be the one to catch him when he falls.
I head to downtown Tampa, find a parking spot in record time—which is unusual this time of day—and walk to One City Center where Mr. Arnold works. It’s lunchtime, so I hope to get a good look at him if he comes out for lunch, which I think he will. I wait inconspicuously in the lobby of the building with a newspaper in hand like a few of the other businessmen sitting around me. I sip a cup of coffee as I scan my surroundings for Mr. Arnold. Fifteen minutes later, he finally emerges from the elevator with a young brunette. I sit up straighter to get a better view.
“Mase?”
I cringe when I recognize the voice.
“Mase, is that you?”
I turn slowly to where the sound is coming from and paste a fake smile across my face. Great, just what I fucking need right now.
“I thought that was you. What are you doing here? Let me guess, you’re playing Magnum P.I.,” she says sarcastically.
My ex-wife is beautiful, I’ll give her that. Her long blonde hair shimmers down the middle of her back. as she crosses the room toward me. She turns the heads of every man in here, which she knows and loves, but that’s where her beauty ends. Inside, she’s a fucking monster.
“Not playing, Sheila. It’s what I actually do now, remember?”
“How could I forget. You chose your new career over me.”
She steps closer to me—a little too close, actually—but I don’t budge. I won’t give her the satisfaction of taking a step backward.
“If I remember correctly, you chose to leave because of my new career. There’s a difference.”
Her fingers brush my arms lightly. The urge to pull my arm back immediately is strong, but again, I won’t give her the satisfaction of letting her know she has any effect on me, even if it’s pure repulsion. We played this game through our divorce and I wouldn’t let her win then, so I certainly won’t let her win now. She always thought she could seduce me back with the simple gesture of batting her eyelashes or touching me, but it didn’t work. Once she showed me her true colors, I was done.
“That’s not how I remember it,” she purrs. “In fact, you made a career change without even discussing it with me. What good husband does that to his wife?”
She moves her fingers higher up my arm, and takes a step closer, “Don’t you miss me, Mason? We had some pretty good times together.”
Her charms may work on other men, but they fall flat on me.
“Actually, no. I don’t miss you. It was nice seeing you, Sheila. Say hello to the Mr. for me. I’m sure he’ll love to hear how we ran into each other.” Her mouth gapes as she takes a step back from me. I remain aloof before I turn and walk out the front door.
Melinda
I know I’m an idiot. What sane woman would walk through Central park all alone at ten p.m.? No one in their right mind would, but I’m not in my right mind right now. I have to deliver this backpack of money, so I can remove the threat of exposure. If those pictures get out, I will be ruined. Everything I worked for will be in the toilet and I can’t risk it.
My anxiety is at full throttle and my pulse beats loudly in my ears. Ten minutes after opening that damn thumb drive full of provocative pictures, a message popped up with a ransom notice. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash, by tonight, to be delivered at the Glen Span Arch in Central Park. If I don’t show, or if I show with anyone, the pictures go viral.
A shudder of humiliation rises within me. I try to shake it off, but it sticks. I’m not willing to risk it. I can’t. I called the bank and asked them to have the money ready for me at five o’clock. I’ve always kept five hundred thousand in a savings account as a back-up emergency account, just in case the stock market crashed again. I wanted to be able to have money on hand whenever I needed it without having to call my financial advisor. God, if I had called him with this, he would have had a stroke.
I dressed for a workout. I figured if anyone recognized me, they would think I was out for a run. Many celebrities are spotted in the Park so if I do get noticed, I want to look somewhat normal and not out of character. My hair is tied back in a high pony tail and it swishes back and forth as I walk to my destination. I have a blue backpack full of cash that I hope isn’t too noticeable. I hate this particular damn arch. It’s one of the spookier ones, especially at night. I see it up ahead in the distance and I feel like I’m walking to my impending doom. Goosebumps rise on my skin.
“Stop it, Mel,” I admonish myself. “Leave the bag and go. Then this will all be behind you.”
A rustling in the bushes next to me makes me jump.
“For fuck’s sake!” I scream and throw my hand over my mouth to silence myself as a skunk scurries out of the bushes. I’m paralyzed with fear, because one, that scared the crap out of me and two, I don’t want him to spray me. I give a silent prayer of thanks when he scoots back into the undergrowth. I look around nervously and hope no one noticed me.
When I feel I can breathe again, I continue the walk to the arch. It’s eerily quiet in the park at this time of night and I’ve only seen a few other people, mostly joggers. I pause at the entrance and peer inside, but I don’t see anyone.
“Hello?” I say quietly but the structure makes my voice echo. I take a step inside and hesitate as more goosebumps rise. Taking a deep breath in to steady myself, I walk to the middle of the arch like I was told to. I jump when a man walks toward me from the other side. He’s dressed all in black with a black ski mask over his head, so I can’t make out anything except the color of his eyes, which are green. I don’t recognize them but make a mental note of the color just in case.
“Drop the bag,” he demands.
I do as he asks and take a step back toward where I came from.
“We’re done here. I did what you asked. All the money is there.” I sound more confident than I feel. Lifting my chin, I meet his icy gaze. He nods and for a moment, I think his nod is to tell me it’s fine to leave until I feel myself yanked back by my pony tail. I try to scream, but it’s muffled when a gloved hand is placed over my mouth. I struggle with all of my might, but it’s no use. Whoever is behind me is much bigger and stronger than I am.
The man in front of me with the icy green eyes moves toward me. It’s as if he’s feeding on my fear. My eyes must look wild, because I feel like they might pop out of my head. I continue to struggle to try to free myself, but again, it’s no use. By now, icy-green-eyes is directly in front of me. He grabs my face with his hand and squeezes hard.
The man behind me yanks my head back by my pony tail and a jolt of pain rushes through my cheek. He punches me hard, and I taste blood in my mouth. Another blow comes, this time to the other side of my face, and I feel my legs give way. The man behind me holds me up so his partner can continue to beat me. The last thing I remember is my scream when his foot kicks me in the chest.
I hear beeping. Loud, constant beeping and it drives me nuts. It’s dark and the beeping won’t stop. I’m in complete darkness as I try to open my eyes, but they won’t move. It’s as if someone has glued them shut. I feel like I’m a little kid again, one who has pink eye and the crust has formed a natural adhesive. I let out a low moan.
“Mel?”
I recognize the voice, or at least I think I do. It sounds familiar.
“Mel, can you hear me? If you can hear me, wiggle your fingers.”
Why is this person telling me to wiggle my fingers?
“Melinda, it’s me, Ryan. Can you hear me?”
Ryan! Wait, Ryan? Why is my brother here? I must be in some weird dream.
“Mel, I heard you groan. Please, Mel. Move something. Show me you’re here.” His voice sounds tired and scared. Why? I’ll move my fingers so he doesn’t have to worry. It takes me a moment to process what I’m trying to do. Why does it take so much effort from me to simply wiggle my fingers?
“Nurse! Nurse! She can hear me. She wiggled her fingers when I asked her to.”
He sounds so happy. I felt a brief moment of satisfaction that I could make him stop worrying by moving my fingers.
“Ms. Morgan? Can you hear me?” It’s a woman’s voice. One I don’t recognize. God, my head is pounding. Why can’t they stop that damn beeping sound?
“Ms. Morgan. Can you wiggle your fingers again? If you can hear me, wiggle them. Let us know you’re in there.”
I focus again and use all my willpower to move my fingers.
“Did you see that? She did it. She can hear us! Holy shit, Mel, I’m so glad you’re here.”
My brother sounds so relieved and although I don’t know why, I like hearing him sound that way. I’m not sure why he’s here and decide I must be dreaming. For some reason, I have trouble focusing, so I let myself fall back into the murky dark waters of my mind.
Mason
I tap lightly on the hospital room door. When no one answers, I open it as quietly as I can. The steady beep of the heart rate monitor indicates she’s still alive. I see whom I assume is Ryan Pierce curled up in the recliner beside the bed. He and I have texted since I landed. My focus shifts to the dark-haired woman in the bed. Jesus Christ, they beat the shit out of her. Her eyes look like softballs, Both are dark purple and swollen shut. Her left arm is in a sling and her head is bandaged. Whoever did this to her wasn’t playing around. I may be pissed off that I’m here but seeing this woman like this pisses me off even more. Anger ripples up my spine as I step further into the room.
“Hey,” a groggy voice from the chair says to me.
“Don’t get up,” I say as he rises to greet me.
“Ryan Pierce.” He holds his hand out for me to shake.
“Mason Tanner,” I reply as I extend my hand. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s stable. She let out a low moan earlier and wiggled her fingers when I asked her to. Other than that, there hasn’t been much progress. I would have thought she would have woken up by now.”
“The body has a funny way of shutting down to protect itself.” I should know, I watched my mom’s body do it countless times. I shake my head to stop the thoughts. “They messed her up pretty good. Are there any leads?”
“None. The guy who found her was jogging. He said he never goes through that tunnel and for some reason, he felt drawn to it. When he found her, she was unconscious, and no one knows how long she was there.” He rubs the stubble on his chin as he looks at his sister.
“I’m sorry, man. Is there anything I can do?”
“Find the assholes who did this to her.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Sam said you’re one of the best. I hope it’s true.”
“He may have over inflated the definition of the best.”
Ryan turns back toward me. “I trust Sam so that means I trust you. Find them and make sure they are put away for a long time.”
I nod my head to let him know that’s exactly what I intend to do. I look toward the bed again and focus on Melinda’s face. I don’t even know this woman, but I suddenly feel ferociously protective of her. Seeing her bruised and broken triggers me. Thoughts of my mom come flooding in. All the beatings she took from my dad, the times I tried to stop him and instead, he turned his wrath on me and beat the shit out of me. As long as he left my mom alone, I took every punch and every kick to save her.
I shake my head again to clear the memories. There’s no time for that shit right now. I have a job to do. Sam hired me to figure this out for Ms. Morgan—not that he really gave me much of a choice, since I owed him. Gabe apparently volunteered me, most likely to help me get my shit together with the ulterior motive of getting me out of his house.
Ryan’s speaking to me again, but I’m not fully focused on what he’s saying. All I can do is stare at the black-haired, black-eyed beauty in the hospital bed and wonder what the fuck she was doing in Central Park all alone at ten p.m. Ryan said it was highly out of character for her, so I have a feeling she was meeting someone. But who was that someone?
“Mason?”
I turn toward Ryan’s voice and see a dark-haired younger woman at his side. She’s probably around twenty-one or so and holds his hand.
“This is my daughter Emily. She lives with Melinda while she’s attending college.”
I reach my hand out to shake hers.
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Emily.” I smile. She seems like a sweet kid.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr….” she pauses and looks at her dad for some direction.
“Mason is fine,” I say as I release her hand.
She smiles slightly and turns toward her aunt.
“Any changes?” she asks, and I notice she squeezes her dad’s hand.
Seeing that warm gesture reminds me of all the things I missed out on in my own family. There were no hugs, no kind words, and no hand squeezing, only fear. Fear of waking the beast and what would come next if you woke him. My mom lived in a constant state of anxiety so was never really present. Jesus, I need to stop this. I shake my head again slightly to get rid of the unwanted memories.
“I’ll step outside and call the detectives.”
Ryan nods his head.
Outside in the hallway, I take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve done this, it always affects me. Seeing women beat up is not something for the faint of heart. Along with the physical effects, there are so many other psychological wounds that need tending too. Most of clients I have dealt with over the years have been in domestic violence relationships, so this one is a little different. It doesn’t much matter. The bruises and the battering are much the same. She’ll need support to get through this.
I punch in the detectives’ phone number and pace the hallway outside Ms. Morgan’s door.
“Detective Hudson here.”
“Detective Hudson, good afternoon, it’s Mason Tanner. I’m working with Ms. Morgan.”
“Yeah.”
He doesn’t sound thrilled.
“Let’s get straight to it, then, shall we? What do you have so far?”
He clears his throat, obviously annoyed by my questioning.
“Who did you say you were again?”
“Mason Tanner. Ms. Morgan’s family hired me to help with the case.”
“And what is it you do, Mr. Tanner?” His voice is condescending.
This is the part I love.
“I’m an attorney, Mr. Hudson, as well as a private investigator. I’ll represent Ms. Morgan and get to the bottom of who beat the shit out of her. My information should be in your inbox as we speak. Now, can we stop wasting time and get down to business? What do you have on this case?”
His voice is now full of frustration. “Not much. No one saw her. At least, no one’s saying they saw her. We’re hoping someone steps forward now that we’ve just released information on the local news. Other than that, we have zilch.”
My jaw tenses. Zilch. Not a good starting point, but I’ve started here before.
“I see. What about Mr. Hammond, the man who found her? Do you believe he is involved in any way?”
“Nah. He checks out. He’s a local who runs nightly the park—marathon runner, married, two kids. People frequently see him in the park. We’ll keep an eye on him in case, but we’re confident he’s merely a good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
I grunt my response.
“Other than that, we’re waiting for Ms. Morgan to wake up so we can question her. Any updates on how she’s doing?”
I hesitate momentarily before speaking.
“No change,” I lie.
“Well, let me know if there is, Mr. Tanner.”
I hang up, frustrated with the little information I received from the call. I lied because I want to be the first one to question Ms. Morgan when she wakes up. I don’t want the detectives in there, jumbling things up before I have a chance to speak to her.
Melinda
That beeping is incessant. Why won’t it stop? It pulls me out of the darkness with its constant nagging…beep…beep…beep…beep. I don’t hear anything else around me but that infernal sound. I feel as though I’m in some sort of bad dream where I’m tortured with it. My body feels so heavy, like a cement block is sitting on my chest and I can’t move it. I have a hard time opening my eyes, like they are glued shut or something. Panic rises within me and I let out a garbled groan.
“Mel?”
I swear I hear my brother’s voice, so I know I must be dreaming. Ryan’s in South Carolina with his beautiful wife Kate.
“Mel? Can you hear me?”
God, my mind is playing tricks on me. It sounds like he’s right here beside me.
“Mel? It’s me, Mel. It’s Ryan. Please, Mel. Give me some sort of signal that you hear me.”
He sounds so sad and it makes my heart hurt. Why is he so sad?
“Move your fingers if you can hear me, Mel. Please.” He’s pleading now. I hate the sound of panic in his voice. My brother has always been my rock and right now, he’s breaking my heart with his obvious panic. It takes everything I have to move my fingers, but I want to move them so he knows I’m here. So he knows I can hear him. I want to take away the pain in his voice.
“Oh, thank God. Mel. It’s me. It’s Ryan.”
A tear slips out my eye and I feel it roll down the side of my face. Fingers that I sense belong to my brother brush it away.
“You’re okay, Mel. You’re safe.”
Another tear rolls down my cheek. I’m not sure why I’m crying, but I am. I want to open my eyes, but it feels almost impossible to do so. I’m in total blackness and I don’t like being here. I want to see light. I want to see my brother. Why can’t I open my eyes?
I try again, this time focusing on the task with everything I have. A small crack reveals fluorescent lights above me. God, that’s bright and fucking hurts. But I don’t want to go back into the darkness. I want to see light and I want to see my brother. Where the hell am I? I continue to focus all my energy on opening my eyes.
“Mel?”
I try to turn my head toward his voice, but it’s difficult to move. It feels so heavy. I have a hard time adjusting to the light. I blink repeatedly to allow them to focus. Ryan’s face appears above me. Tears stream down my face as I see the look of relief wash over him. Tears brim his eyes too as he makes contact with mine. He holds my hand. I can feel that, but I’m not sure why I’m crying or why he is.
“Mel, can you remember anything? Do you know where you are?” he asks. My eyes focus upon his as I try to decipher what he is saying. I have no idea where I am or why he’s here.
“You’re in the hospital, Mel. You’ve been here for three days. You were mugged in Central Park. Do you remember?”
A wave of recollection washes over me. Holy fuck. I remember meeting my assailants in the park and giving them the ransom money. I remember the first blow and how the pain seared through me as I was punched in the face. After that, everything went blank. I don’t remember a thing. I squeeze his hand to let him know I remember.
“What in the world were you doing in the park at that hour? That’s not like you,” he says softly.
I close my eyes and immediately open them again. I don’t want to go back into the dark. I want to stay in the light with my brother.
“Mr. Pierce? I need to get some vitals.”
He releases my hand and the loss of his touch is painful.
“Hello, Ms. Morgan. I’m Lila, your nurse. It’s nice to see you awake. I need to get some vitals on you and the doctor has been notified that you’re awake. He’s on his way now.”
I stare at Lila, my nurse, who reminds me of my mom, and the tears fall.
“You’re safe, Ms. Morgan. It’s okay. I know it probably seems scary right now, but you are safe. Your brother’s here and hasn’t left your side once, even though we’ve tried to get him to leave and get some rest. He refused. You’re lucky to have such a loving brother.”
As I come out of the fog that has encompassed my mind, I find the strength to turn my head. My gaze falls on a figure sitting in the corner of my room. This figure—who I’m certain I’ve never seen before—has a tight, chiseled jaw with a dark shadow of stubble and piercing, deep-brown eyes which are focused intently on me. He nods as one corner of his mouth pulls into a tight smile.
“Mel, that’s Mason Tanner, a friend of Sam’s,” Ryan says from the foot of my bed. I turn my head slowly to find him and my eyes take a minute to catch up. I question him silently.
“I’ll fill you in when you’re up to it. Right now, let the nurse and doctor do their jobs.” I feel his hand touch my foot through the hospital blanket.
“Ms. Morgan.” a big booming voice comes from the door. “It’s nice to see you’re awake. We’ve been waiting for you. I’m Dr. Barron.”
My gaze finds him. He’s an older gentleman, mid-sixties I guess, with gray hair, glasses, and a round, cherubic face.
“Ms. Morgan, I’ll shine a light in your eyes right now.” It hurts my eyes but Dr. Barron states he likes what he sees, whatever that means.
“She hasn’t said a word, Doctor,” I hear Ryan say.
“Give her some time, Mr. Pierce. She’s been through a lot. I have no doubt in my mind that she will.”
I had been so intent on sight that the thought of speech didn’t cross my mind until now as I hear them speak about it.
Dr. Barron continues his physical assessment. He has me squeeze his hand, move my fingers and, follow his pen with my eyes.
“Ms. Morgan,” Lila says, “I’ll adjust your bed and sit you up a little. Okay?”
I’m still trying to process everything around me, so I simply stare at her and hope my eyes let her know it’s okay. She smiles at me, her gaze full of empathy.
“Mel? How do you feel?” Ryan asks, and the look of concern in his eyes hurts. I know whatever has happened has had to be difficult for him.
I open my mouth slowly to speak, “Oookayyyy,” I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice, which frightens me.
“Take it easy, Ms. Morgan.”
My gaze find Lila’s and she smiles reassuringly at me. “You’re doing fine. Take your time.”
“Water?” I ask slowly.
Ryan is immediately at my side with a cup of ice water.
“Let me help you,” he says as he tips the cup to my lips. I take a slow, tiny sip. The feel of the cool liquid in my mouth is delicious.
He sets the cup down and takes the seat next to my hospital bed. The mysterious man in the corner—Mason, I think Ryan said—remains silent.
“Melinda, I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on you. The team will run some tests today now that you’re awake. I don’t want you doing too much. You’ll be fine, young lady.”
“Thank you, Dr. Barron,” Ryan says and stands to shake his hand.
I watch Dr. Barron and Lila walk out of my hospital room.
Without wasting any time, Ryan swings around and his eyes narrow in on me. “Now that they’re gone, I want to know what the hell you were doing in the park that late at night, Mel. That’s not like you. Why were you there?”
Mason
I sit up in my chair to hear her answer. She hesitates before responding.
“I needed some air,” she says shakily, still unsteady.
“You could have gotten air on your balcony.”
Ryan isn’t holding back and I’m glad. She’s hiding something, I can sense it.
She pauses before speaking, “I went for a run, Ry. With everything going on, I needed to clear my head.”
“Yeah, we haven’t even talked about that prick. Jesus, Melinda. You scared us to death. Mom is flipping out and you’re lucky I talked dad out of coming.”
I see her flinch at his words.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly.
“It’s okay, but don’t do anything like that again. The detectives will want to question you now that you’re awake. Mr. Tanner wants to question you before they do, when you’re up for it.”
Her gaze glides to me and sizes me up. She’s wary of my presence, I can see it in her eyes.
“Why is he here?” she asks Ryan instead of me.
“Sam sent him. He’s an attorney and also a P.I. Sam wanted the best on this case, so you got Mr. Tanner. Apparently, he’s the best. You should be grateful.”
She doesn’t look grateful when her focus shifts back to me. She looks pissed off, if that’s even possible with the black eyes she has. From the glint in her eyes, I can see she’s mad, but I also see something else. Fear.
I nod my head before I speak. “We’ll go over everything when you’re ready. The sooner the better, though, because those detectives will be in here as soon as they get wind that you’re awake.”
She shoots daggers at me through her swollen eyes, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. The only difference is they’re usually from the prick who’s done the beating. Once they realize they’ve been discovered, they get defensive, want to strangle me with their own bare hands if they could, and then concede to a settlement because they don’t want the information leaked.
Only a few women have stepped forward and come out with the truth about their abuser. Many take the settlement and remain quiet, which pisses me off even more.
“Ms. Morgan, I understand you’re scared, but I’m here to help,” I say as nicely as I can through gritted teeth.
“I don’t want you here,” she snaps.
“Mel!” Ryan protests. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. Between Sam, Mason, and me, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
She exhales a frustrated breath.
“I want to go home.”
“That needs to be determined by the doctor. As soon as he gives the okay, we’ll get you out of here. Mason will stick around for a while, little sis, so get used to it.”
She turns her head and glares at me as if I’m the enemy. I don’t give a rip about it because I’m here to do a job. Sam wants her safe and he wants me to get to the bottom of who did this to her. We both agree this wasn’t a normal mugging in the park. There’s something Melinda Morgan isn’t telling us and I will find out exactly what that is.