Free A Shadow on the Ground by Rebecca Lee Smith

to pull it off this time?
    Morgan had arrived on the planet four minutes ahead of Sean, but she’d always felt years older. It was natural she should look out for him. She’d been born the tough one, the skeptical one, the one with the acid tongue who could drive the school bullies away. Even while their parents were alive, Sean had needed her protection. His tender, trusting heart was a flashing neon sign to the sharks and misfits of the world, a magnet for every lowlife with a hard luck story and an outstretched hand. Her brother gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, and she would never understand how he could continue to see the good in people she wouldn't trust as far as she could throw a piano.
    How could she help him now? This wasn’t as simple as reading Clyde Jenkins the Riot Act for throwing a Fourth of July sparkler at her brother. This was a murder charge. According to Sheriff Stallard, someone had deliberately killed Harlan Spannagel. But if Sean didn’t do it, then who had? And why were they trying to pin it on her brother?
    She glanced up at the sky. “I have to stay strong,” she whispered. “No matter what happens, I cannot fall apart.”
    The soft roar of a car engine droned in the distance. Across the road, twin headlight beams flashed the side of the Jenkins’ barn.
    Morgan's heart picked up speed. She stood frozen, waiting. Would the car pass the entrance to the orchard or turn in at the gate? The sound drew closer, echoing off the side of the mountain until it burst into the open. A long black van turned into the driveway and cut its lights.
    Her first instinct was to run for the front door and bathe herself in the brilliant rectangle of light spilling onto the porch.
    Her second, more rational instinct was to slip into the shadows. Her left hand coiled around the cordless phone in her pocket. Her right hand picked up the garden trowel she'd left beside a concrete planter.
    The van stopped a few feet from the utility pole.
    The door opened. A man, shorter than Finch but taller than Mendoza, stepped out, unfolding his long legs one by one.

Chapter 4
    “Stay where you are!” Morgan cried. “I have a weapon!”
    Gage didn’t move. Beneath the mercury vapor lamp, his shadow stretched across the ground in front of him like a dark crack in the earth.
    “Morgan.” His low baritone sounded distorted and gruff, as if his voice had pushed her name through the thick night air. “It’s Gage.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    He stepped forward and cupped his hand over his eyes to shield them from the glare. Beneath the light, all he could make out was her silhouette standing beside the porch swing. If her weapon of choice was a loaded gun, and it was pointed at him, he hoped she knew what she was doing.
    “I asked you a question,” she said.
    “I’m here to beg a favor.”
    “Well, that’s easy. The answer is no.”
    “Look,” he said. “I get that you don't want to see me. I understand. More than you know, probably. But I can’t change the past.”
    “Neither can I. Go away.”
    “I need—”
    “I don’t care what you need. Get back in your big black car and drive toward the mountain. Or off the mountain. Your choice.”
    “Not a good time to stop by, huh?”
    A long, silent pause. “No, Gage, this isn’t a good time. This is a terrible time. The only thing that could make this time any worse was if I was covered head-to-toe with poison oak and had scarfed down the Fried Clam Special at Maxie’s Diner. I can’t talk to you right now. I can’t talk to anybody.”
    He reached out his hand as if he were approaching a skittish colt and edged closer. “I know you’ve had a bad day, but please, hear me out.”
    “ A bad day ? Are you serious?” She laughed harshly. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
    “It’s about Jeremy. I’m here because of my son.”
    Another long, interminable pause. She glanced at the stars, sighed, looked back down. Then she moved out of