Private Princess

Chapter 127

The smell of bleach and disinfectant hit Jack Morgan strongly as he pushed open a heavy door and entered the pathologist’s lab, the room as still and lifeless as the woman that lay at its center.

Jane Cook.

He stopped as if shot when he saw the shape of the covered body on the metal table, the memory of his lover’s contours etched into his mind so that even the silhouette of her was enough to trick him into believing it had all been a nightmare, and that Jane would now rise, smiling, and kiss him.

She never would, Morgan knew. Jane Cook would never breathe again. She would never laugh again. She would never crease the corner of her lip when she was deep in thought, a memory that now pushed a choked laugh of love from Morgan’s dry throat.

He approached her.

De Villiers had warned Morgan not to pull the sheet away, and Morgan obeyed. He had seen her death. He knew what lay beneath the sheet, no matter how he wished he didn’t. Instead, he reached under the material, and felt out Jane’s hand. As he gripped her cold fingers, a quartet of tears trickled over the cuts and bruises of his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know that Flex’s death can never bring you back, but you were a warrior. I wanted you to know that justice was done.”

Morgan used his free hand to wipe at his red eyes. They were tired — so tired.

Behind him he heard the sound of the doors opening. “Give me five more minutes, Colonel.”

“It’s me, Jack,” came the voice of Princess Caroline in response.

Morgan turned. The royal was dressed in dark jeans and a hoody, and held a baseball cap in her hands.

“I came to pay my respects. To her, and to you.”

Morgan let go of Jane’s cold hand, and delicately placed the sheet back over her still flesh.

“You got what you wanted, Jack.”

Morgan shook his head. “I can never get back what I want.”

The royal looked to the shrouded body.

“The city’s going crazy,” she told him after a moment. “Another lone-wolf attack. A troubled individual hitting out at a society they feel has failed them.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “That’s how you’re writing this off?”

She nodded. “Flex is a dark stain on the British armed forces, and the country, and he’s one that’s best forgotten as quickly as possible. The story that we tell can make all the difference.”

“And how will that happen?” Morgan asked skeptically, thinking of the carnage left in Flex’s wake — the lives taken, or blighted forever.

“People see what they want to see, and believe what they want to believe,” Princess Caroline explained. “A tragedy, where a broken veteran went on a rampage before throwing himself to his death. The media will lap it up like milk.”

“Why not the truth?”

Caroline shrugged. “Because there’s nothing to gain from it. The SAS tarnished. The police tarnished.”

“Yourself tarnished,” Morgan added.

She met Morgan’s eyes, and nodded. “You found Sophie’s killer, Jack, and now you’ve avenged yourself on the man who killed the woman who was special to you. I think it would be best if you stayed away from the UK for a while. Flex may have more friends.”

“They know where to find me,” Morgan replied, causing Caroline to smile whimsically.

“How have you lived so long, Jack?”

Morgan smiled in return. “Thank you for coming to see me, Your Highness. I’ll take your advice and change the scenery, but first, I have things to do.”

“Colonel De Villiers will see you’re taken care of,” the Princess promised.

“Don’t let him resign over this,” Morgan told her.

Caroline gave an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid that was a lie, and my idea. We thought that you’d be more likely to believe his help was genuine if you saw him falling on his sword.”

Morgan shrugged it off. Then he turned to take one last look at the woman who had taken his heart.

“I’ll leave you to pay your respects to Jane,” he said to the Princess. “She was a hell of a woman and a soldier.”

“I know,” Caroline confirmed. “I’ll be sure that she’s remembered as such. Goodbye, Jack.”

“Goodbye, Caroline.”

With those words, Morgan walked from the room, knowing that though the body of Jane Cook would be left behind him, her memory would be carried forever in his heart.