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dead.
    What could she add to that?
    “You sure you’re okay?” Jake asked as he pulled into Clay Treasures’ parking lot.
    “I will be.”
    “I’m not so sure you should be heading off to Washington, but I’m not going to tell you not to go. What I am going to tell you is to be careful. Your ex-husband is dead. I’d hate for you to be next.”
    “I’ll be careful.”
    “Seems your ex might have been more than just a murderer.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Two men came here tonight looking for something Cody said he gave you. Cody was killed three days ago. It could be someone has decided to go to a lot of trouble to make sure Cody never reveals what was on that disk.”
    “You think he was murdered to keep him quiet?”
    “I don’t know, but I plan to find out.” Jake got out of the car and opened the door for Morgan, waiting as she climbed out. “The apartment should be clean. I told the crew to take care of that first. It may be a while longer before they finish in the gallery.”
    “That’s fine.”
    “You go on up to your apartment. I’ll wait here until the cleaning crew is done, and then lock up. There’ll be a marked patrol car parked outside tonight, so don’t worry that you won’t be safe.”
    “Thank you, Sheriff Reed. I really appreciate it.”
    “No need to thank me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He held the gallery door open, and Morgan walked in, frowning as she saw the carnage. Clay vases and pots had been smashed. A slick, wet spot stained the tile floor. All Morgan’s hard work, all the time she’d spent creating a gallery that matched her dreams, and this is what it had come to.
    “You’ll get it back the way it was,” the sheriff said quietly, and Morgan nodded.
    Maybe she would. Or maybe she’d take the destruction of her gallery as a sign that it was time to move on.
    A sign?
    She didn’t believe in signs. She believed in well thought out plans and carefully considered options. At least, that was what she used to believe in.
    She sighed, waving to two women who were sweeping up shards of pottery, and hurried up the stairs to the apartment. The door was cracked open, and she gave it a gentle push, bracing herself for whatever she might see on the other side.
    The coffee table had been righted. Someone had thrown pillows over ragged tears in the sofa, and Morgan could barely see the slashed fabric. The kitchen had been scrubbed clean, all the evidence of the brutal attack swept away. The ugliness of it still seemed to hang in the air, the choking fear and vicious pain of the time she’d spent trapped in her apartment seeping into Morgan’s pores as she checked the den and the bedroom.
    Maybe she should have stayed at Lacey’s place for the night.
    Morgan made another circuit of the house, checking the locks on the window and pulling the bolt on the door. Since she’d come to Lakeview, she’d been lax about keeping the apartment door locked. Mostly because she always locked the gallery below.
    No more. If she returned to Clay Treasures after her trip to Washington, she’d never again sleep with the apartment door unlocked.
    If?
    When .
    She would return to Lakeview and her pottery gallery. Cody had caused her enough pain and heartache. No way would she allow him to take away the dream she’d worked so hard to achieve. She frowned and walked into her bedroom. A large window looked out over the parking lot, and she hurried to close the curtains, blocking out the darkness beyond.
    She should grab her laptop and boot it up, buy a plane ticketand pack her bags. She should do a lot of things, but all she wanted to do was lie in bed, close her eyes and forget that she’d almost been killed, forget that it had taken a stranger to save her life.
    Forget that Cody was dead.
    She blinked back hot tears and closed her eyes, wishing she could forget. As much as Cody had hurt and betrayed her, as much as she’d resented him, there’d been a time when she’d truly believed she