16
Palma, Majorca, Spain.
Morgan woke with a start.
“Jake!” His name flew from her lips as she felt the spark of his life go out. Her skin was slick with sweat, her breath ragged as she surfaced from the nightmare.
Sunlight filtered in through the curtains and Morgan shook her head, trying to remember what she had seen. Dark shadows, flickering flames, the dead weight of earth shoveled onto a prone body.
She reached for her phone. No messages from Jake.
It was the early hours of the morning in New Orleans. He was probably asleep. She wouldn’t ring him now. Better to wait until later when she could ask him what to do about San Francisco. After the red-eye flight, she had needed a nap and now felt at least partially renewed.
Morgan rolled out of bed, turned on the coffee machine, and
