He watched her walk away, enjoying the view. Her fitted cobalt-blue suit played up her black hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, and the matching heels showed off a gorgeous pair of legs. “Need help taking it off?”
She glanced over her shoulder. One eyebrow arched in mock reprimand. “Behave. We’re still in the office.”
“Then be quick about it. We’re on the clock.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter.
The quickening of her step made him ridiculously happy.
She made him ridiculously happy.
On the counter, his phone buzzed. He reached for it. “Hey, Sharp.”
“Where have you been?” Sharp asked. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for an hour.”
“No time for work now, Sharp. I’m on my way out.” Lance picked up his keys.
“Lance—”
“Come on, Sharp. It’s the end of the day. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No.” Sharp’s tone was uncharacteristically grim and brought Lance to full attention.
“What happened?” he asked.
Morgan appeared in the doorway, wearing jeans and a thick wool sweater, her suit draped over one arm. Her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Over the phone, Sharp took a deep breath, his exhale audible over the sound of voices and wind. Where was he? “It’s about your father.”
The simple statement took the steam out of Lance. He eased into a chair.
“At lunch, one of my buddies told me that the sheriff’s department pulled a 1984 Buick Century out of Grey Lake,” Sharp said. “I’m sorry, Lance. It’s your dad’s car.”
Morgan walked to his side. She bent down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She must have heard what Sharp had said.
Lance closed his eyes and leaned into her. The bright kitchen light colored the backs of his lids blood red. Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Sharp wouldn’t have sounded so glum if the vehicle had been empty. “Was he in it?”
Sharp’s next breath rattled. “Remains were found in the trunk.”
Shock washed over Lance, leaving him numb.
The trunk?
His father had been murdered.
“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” he said. “I always knew he wouldn’t have left us.”
A flood of memories washed over him: his dad teaching him to catch a ball, mowing the lawn, driving him to hockey practice. He’d been a good man, a kind man. Who would have killed him? And why? Bitterness rose into Lance’s throat.
After he’d processed Sharp’s news, Lance had one overwhelming concern. “How am I going to tell my mother?”
Morgan’s arms tightened around him. He squeezed her hand.
“I asked the sheriff to keep your dad’s identity out of the news until we could notify her,” Sharp said. “He agreed, but that’s not going to buy us much time. The license plate on the car was still clear enough to read. It won’t take the media long to find out who it was registered to.”
“This is going to devastate her.” Lance rubbed a hand down his face. “She’s been doing so well lately.”
His mother had a sort-of boyfriend. Except for their weekly group therapy sessions, she and her new man communicated entirely online. But it was the first relationship of any kind she’d welcomed in decades. She was also doing computer background checks and searches for Sharp Investigations. She seemed happy to be useful and enjoyed the investigation aspect. In short, she’d made huge strides forward in the past few months.
“This is going to bring everything back to her,” Sharp agreed.
And it would likely cause a huge setback to her fragile mental health, and selfishly, upend Lance’s life again, just when happiness felt like a real possibility.
“If you want to see the car, you need to get your butt out here,” Sharp said.
“I’m on my way.” Lance ended the call.
Morgan was on her cell phone.
He rummaged through another drawer for a portable phone charger and switched his phone to it. “I need to get out to the lake. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She lowered her phone and slipped it into her pocket. “I’m coming with you.”
“But you need to get home.” The last thing he wanted was for his problems to negatively affect Morgan’s three little girls.
“I’m coming with you,” Morgan said again, enunciating the words just a little more clearly. “I called Stella and let her know I’ll be late. She’s going to stay until I get home.”
Both her tone and the determination in her big blue eyes told him there was no point arguing with her. And if he were being honest with himself, he was grateful for her support.
“OK.” Lance headed for the door.
Morgan was right behind him. She grabbed her coat from her office on the way out.
The ride out to Grey Lake took thirty minutes. The road became more and more rural as they drove. It was full dark when Lance parked on the side of the road behind two sheriff’s department vehicles. He and Morgan got out of the Jeep. Crime scene tape fluttered between trees. On the bank of the lake, under stadium-bright portable lights, a rusted vehicle had just been loaded onto a flatbed truck.
The sight of the ruined vehicle filled Lance’s throat. Next to him, Morgan took his hand and held it in a tight grip.
Sharp spotted the Jeep and broke away from the group of uniformed men. He met them halfway across the weedy ground.
“The medical examiner just left. The car is being taken to the county impound garage.” Sharp narrowed critical eyes on him. “You all right?”
Afraid he’d choke on his voice, Lance nodded.
“The sheriff is handling the case?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Sharp said. “The original missing person report was filed with the SFPD, but Police Chief Horner isn’t going to fight the sheriff for a case this cold, and Grey Lake isn’t in Horner’s jurisdiction.”
Lance didn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed that Horner wouldn’t be handling the case. Horner was more politician than cop, but the sheriff wasn’t any easier to deal with.
“Horner will send a copy of the case file over and wash his hands of the whole thing. The department is always shorthanded, and cold cases are notorious for racking up man-hours.”
“But it isn’t a simple missing adult case with no evidence of foul play anymore,” Sharp said.
“No.” Lance swallowed the truth. “It’s murder. But will the sheriff be able to solve it? You tried to find my dad for years.”
“I never had any physical evidence,” Sharp said. “But now we do.”
His dad had been in the trunk of his car on the bottom of the lake all these years.
Someone put him there. Had he been dead before the trunk filled up with water?
A sick feeling crawled over Lance.
Sheriff King gave Lance a solemn nod as they approached.
“What can you tell me?” Lance asked, his eyes fixed on the old Buick, memories of riding in it with his dad flashing in his mind. He pushed them away.
Not now.
“There isn’t much to say at this point,” the sheriff said. “The medical examiner took charge of the remains.”
“Have you sent the divers back down to search the bottom of the lake?” Lance asked.
The sheriff shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll evaluate the vehicle first. Whatever is down there has been sitting for twenty-three years. Another day or two isn’t going to make any difference.”
Underwater crime scenes presented unique challenges and costs. The crime had taken place too long ago to find any evidence on the lakeshore. Even the bottom of the lake was a long shot after all this time. The car and the bones were the keys to the puzzle. Lance understood, but he didn’t like the sheriff’s lack of urgency. But what could he do? He wasn’t a cop anymore, and even if he were, Grey Lake was in Grey’s Hollow, part of Sheriff King’s fiefdom.
“I’ll let you
and your mother know when the ME officially identifies the remains,” the sheriff said.
“I’d appreciate a heads-up when you want to talk to my mother.” Lance debated how much information to give the sheriff and decided on, “She isn’t well. The news could affect her health.”
“Noted. Sharp mentioned the same thing,” the sheriff said, which was not the affirmative response Lance would have liked.
“Does anyone in particular frequent this area?” Lance’s gaze swept the lake, trees, and scrub grass.
“Only during hunting season. Most swimming and camping happens at the south end of the lake where the public boat ramp is. There are some good spots to catch bullhead down there.” The sheriff pointed toward the water. “This end of the lake is muddy, which is probably why no one noticed the car all these years.”
Lance backed away from the Buick. Staring at it wasn’t serving any purpose, other than sledge-hammering home the reality that his father was dead, and had been dead for a long time.
The flatbed started up with a roar and pulled away.
The sheriff nodded and headed for his vehicle.
After he was out of earshot, Sharp said, “I’ll talk to the ME tomorrow and see how long he expects the official identification to take.”
“No. I’ll do it,” Lance said. “It’s my father.”
Memories gathered in a ball beneath his breastbone. Pushing the past away was getting harder.
Lance slipped his hand out of Morgan’s. “I have to go see my mother. The sheriff said he’d give me advance notice, but I don’t trust him.”
“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Sharp waved a hand between him and Morgan.
Lance shook his head. “I think it might be best if it’s just me.”
He didn’t know how his mother was going to react. Morgan had never seen Jenny Kruger in the throes of her illness. Lance’s mother had been stable over the past few months. Morgan had no idea how bad it could get.
And Lance wanted it to stay that way.
He didn’t want to drag Morgan into the unpredictable reality of his mother’s mental illness. He wished he didn’t have to tell his mother about his father’s car. But he had no choice. An agoraphobic, she literally lived online. If he didn’t tell her, she’d find out on her own. The news would be far better coming from him.
“All right.” Sharp turned toward the road, his movements slow and weary, as if the events of the day had sapped his strength. Usually, he had more energy than most twentysomethings.
Lance rubbed a hand across his scalp. After he visited his mother, he had only one thing on his plate: find out who had killed his father.
Chapter Five
Morgan watched Lance struggle, her heart breaking for him. On one hand, she wanted the closure for him and his mother. On the other, closure had a price. Old wounds would be reopened. The pain would be fresh. But hopefully, short-lived.
Lance turned to Sharp. “I’m kicking myself for not opening the case file when you gave it to me back in September.”
“It was the right decision at the time,” Sharp said. “You didn’t want to dredge up the past when there was little chance you could solve the crime, but now there’s physical evidence.”
And the past was going to be stirred up no matter what Lance did.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out over the lake. Morgan followed his gaze for a few seconds. With no visible moon, the water undulated in shades of black in the darkness. She shifted her gaze back to his face, now shuttered.
A short while ago, they’d been embracing, happy and intimate.
Now everything had changed.
“Would you give Morgan a lift back to the office?” Lance asked. “Her minivan is there.”
“Of course,” Sharp said.
“Can you give us a minute, Sharp?” Morgan asked.
“I’ll be in the car.” Sharp walked toward his vehicle, allowing Morgan and Lance a moment of privacy.
She crossed the weeds to stand in front of him and put her hands on his forearms. His muscles were taut, rigid with tension. “How are you doing with this?”
“I don’t know.” He looked over her shoulder. Behind him, the flatbed retreated. Lance blinked, then looked at her. “It feels surreal.”
“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” She slid her hands down to grasp his. “Are you sure you don’t want me or Sharp to go with you to your mom’s house? I know you can handle things alone, but you don’t have to.”
“I’m sure.” Lance’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. “I don’t know how she’s going to react. If I need help, I can call Sharp. He’s already seen her at her worst.”
His words stung, even though she knew she was being overly sensitive. Sharp had been in the Krugers’ lives for decades. Morgan’s relationship with Mrs. Kruger was relatively new. Even though it felt as if Lance was part of her family, Morgan obviously hadn’t reached inclusion status in his.
But she didn’t push. She wouldn’t have survived her husband’s death without the support of her grandfather and sister. But Lance had had no one but Sharp for decades. Lance was more accustomed to being alone.
“I understand.” Or at least, she was trying to. “You’ll call me later?”
“I’ll try. Depends on how she takes the news. I’ll stay with her tonight.”
“Of course you will.” She nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head. “But thanks for asking.”
That sounds so . . . detached.
She squeezed his hands, wanting more of a connection with him. “Call me. It doesn’t matter how late.”
With a nod, he turned back to his Jeep and left.
Morgan walked toward the road where Sharp’s car was parked. Sheriff King stood next to the open door of his county vehicle.
As she passed him, his eyes narrowed.
“I hear you got one of those boys off this afternoon.” His voice was low and deep and disgusted.
Morgan stopped and turned to face him. “Eric was innocent. Doesn’t it bother you that he spent the night in jail for a crime he didn’t commit?”
“Given the video his friends were passing around, I’m sure he’s guilty of something.” The careless lift of the sheriff’s big shoulder said as much as his words. He swept his hat off his head and brushed back his gray-streaked hair. “These entitled kids need to learn that there are consequences for their actions.”
“Eric is hardly entitled, and even if he were, that’s no excuse for putting an innocent kid behind bars.” Morgan inhaled, hoping the damp night air would cool her anger. “Eric has a bruise on his face.”
The sheriff shoved his hat back on his head. “Eric resisted arrest.”
Exactly what Morgan had predicted the sheriff would say. “You could have gotten him killed. Your jail is hardly secure.”
She and the sheriff locked gazes for a few seconds. His eyes narrowed at her reference to the attack on her previous client.
“Jail is a dangerous place,” the sheriff said, his voice grating. “Now your client knows that. Maybe he’ll stick to the straight and narrow.”
“He was already on the straight and narrow,” Morgan shot back. “The legal system assumes innocence until proven guilty. Eric didn’t deserve the bruise on his face either.”
“He shouldn’t have resisted arrest.” The sheriff’s jaw shifted back and forth, as if he were grinding his molars. Morgan turned away. There really wasn’t much else to say. Sheriff King was an old school hard-ass. He saw his job as putting as many people in jail as possible. He was not going to change.
“Tyler Green is out on bail,” he said.
Morgan froze, her palms going cold as she slowly turned back. “Seriously?”
“Yep. He got a new bail hearing.” The sheriff jammed his hat on his head. “I thought you should know, seeing as he threatened to get even with you.”
Two months ago, Sharp Investigations had been hired to find the abusiv
e deadbeat dad. Morgan had been instrumental in getting Tyler arrested. He’d attacked her, and unlike the wife who was too scared to testify against him, Morgan had pressed charges, and he’d gone to jail.
Supposedly.
“I thought he couldn’t make bail.” Morgan rubbed the base of her throat. Though her bruises had healed, she could still feel Tyler’s hands around her neck.
“I don’t know what happened.” The sheriff lifted a shoulder. “I put him in jail. I can’t help it if the system assumes he’s innocent until proven guilty.”
In light of the information he’d given her, she ignored the dig.
“Thank you for telling me about Tyler.” Morgan wasn’t surprised at the courtesy. Sheriff King could be harsh, but his manners were as old-fashioned as his dated approach toward law enforcement.
“You’re welcome. Be careful out there, counselor.” The sheriff got into his vehicle and drove away.
Morgan walked to Sharp’s car. Her skin tingled with nerves, and a headache pulsed behind her ears. She slid into the passenger seat.
Sharp started the engine. “What did the sheriff want?”
Morgan summed up what had happened at the courthouse earlier. “He dressed me down for getting the charges against Eric dropped.”
“He’s a Neanderthal. I wrote Mickey Mouse on my ballot in the last election.”
Morgan stifled a surprised snort. The sheriff had run unopposed.
“He also warned me that Tyler Green is out on bail,” she said.
Sharp turned the car around and headed back toward Scarlet Falls. “Who would post bail for that useless jerk? He’s a flight risk.”
“Maybe the same family members who let him hide from subpoenas in their houses.”
“Good point,” Sharp said. “Are you all right?”
Morgan took a water bottle out of her tote and rolled the tension from her shoulders. “Yes. Lance upgraded our security system, and I’ll tell the family to be extra careful. Hopefully, Tyler will appreciate being out of jail and stay clear of me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on Tyler Green making sensible choices.”
Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane Book 3) Page 3
