Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane Book 3)

by Melinda Leigh

  More medical personnel crowded around the bed.

  “Could a medication have been swapped?” Lance moved farther out of the way, until his shoulder hit the glass wall next to the door.

  “We have strict dispensing protocols.” The doctor watched the monitors while he talked to Lance. “Medications are checked and double-checked.”

  “Her heart rate is still falling,” someone called out.

  “We’ll try naloxone.” The doctor called out.

  Lance glanced over his shoulder. On the other side of the glass, two bags of saline lay on a cart, along with other supplies. In the open. Unattended.

  He stepped forward. “The nurse changed her IV fluid bag five minutes before this happened.”

  The doctor unplugged the IV. “Get a fresh bag of saline.”

  “Not one that was sitting in the hallway,” Lance shouted as the nurse bolted for the door. He watched, helpless, as the ICU staff worked. Bodies blocked the view of his mother.

  “Keep that bag,” Lance called to the nurse moving the bag off the hook. “It could be evidence.”

  She set it aside.

  A nurse administered an injection through the IV line. Naloxone, also known as Narcan, blocked the effects of opioids and reversed an overdose. When he’d been a patrol officer, Lance had carried a dose in his vehicle. Heroin addiction and overdoses had drastically increased over the past decade. Narcan acted fast, sending a true addict into almost immediate withdrawal. If his mother had been given opioids, the antidote would work within minutes.

  If Lance was wrong, then Narcan would have no impact on her condition. But she would continue to deteriorate, and they would have lost valuable time.

  Come on.

  Lance’s heartbeat echoed in his ears. Sweat dripped down his back, and the fists at his sides went clammy. Everything inside him curled up into a tight ball, waiting. Cold slid over him like a blanket, as if his emotions were preparing for the worst.

  Please.

  He was so numb, so focused, he didn’t see Morgan and Hannah in the hallway.

  “What happened?” Morgan grabbed his arm.

  But he couldn’t take his eyes off the heart monitor.

  Tick tock.

  “Her heart rate is up,” the doctor said. “And climbing.”

  The ICU staff drew a collective breath. In ten minutes, her pulse and blood pressure had returned to normal levels.

  Lance let out the air he’d been holding in his lungs.

  Morgan slipped her arm around his waist. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his face. It was wet. He dried it with the heels of his hands.

  “Come into the hall.” Morgan steered him out of the room. “What happened?”

  He explained.

  “I didn’t even step out of the room for coffee,” Hannah said. “The nurses brought me food. No one was in her room except the nurse and doctors, and only the nurse administered medication.” Her eyes narrowed. “I watched.”

  “It had to be the saline.” Lance dragged in air, his lungs shaky. He felt like he’d lived three days in the last fifteen minutes. “Tampered with out in the hall. I need to call Stella or Brody. They can pull the hospital surveillance tapes.” He glanced through the glass wall. Nurses and doctors still surrounded his mother.

  “I’ll call Brody,” Hannah said. Phone in hand, she walked down the hallway.

  The doctor emerged from the room. “She seems to be stable.”

  “How much of a setback will this be for my mother?” Lance asked. She’d already been at risk for organ damage.

  “We can’t say just yet.” The doctor yanked his gloves off. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”

  A woman walked by, her hand over her face. Sobbing, she entered the room next to his mother’s.

  The old man.

  “Did you have a code earlier?” Lance asked.

  The doctor followed his gaze. “Yes. Not long ago. But he’d been sick for a long time. He’d been here for weeks. His death was not a shock.”

  “But codes are chaotic,” Lance said.

  “They are,” the doctor said turning back toward Jenny. “Excuse me.” He went back into her room and checked her vital signs on the monitors again.

  Morgan’s face went grim. “A code would provide a convenient distraction.”

  “They should check the old man for opioids,” Lance said. “In case he was murdered.”

  Hannah returned. “Stella is coming with Brody. They’re going to request a police guard for your mother.”

  But the saline had been tampered with before it even entered his mother’s room. This killer had murdered by strangulation, hanging, shooting, and poison. He was using whatever method would get the job done.

  “I’m going to call Sharp and tell him what happened.” Morgan moved down the hall.

  Who knew how long it would be before his mother woke up? And if she would be able to identify her poisoner . . . Lance pushed that thought away. He couldn’t deal with the possibility of her sustaining brain damage. Not now. Tonight, he had to keep her alive.

  Brody and Stella arrived and took charge of the investigation. Lance gave them a summary. As he described the events of the night, the numbness retreated like a shadow at noon, leaving anger as bright and clean as winter sunlight in its place.

  He would find the man who did this.

  Maybe he was the same man who’d killed Lance’s father. Maybe not. But Lance knew that whoever had hurt his mother would have those answers.

  “A patrol officer is bringing up a drug field test kit,” Stella said. “We’ll be able to tell you in a few minutes if the saline was contaminated.”

  Lance paced while the officer arrived and opened his notebook-size case in the corner of Jenny’s room. While the ICU staff attended to Lance’s mother, the officer selected a pouch from his kit. He took a small sample of the saline solution. Police officers often needed to test substances for the presence of narcotics. Lance had performed enough field tests in his career. It was far better to identity a random white powder in the field than to arrest someone for possession of crack cocaine when the powder was actually baking soda.

  In five minutes, the officer looked up from his mini chemistry kit. “Positive for opioids.”

  Jenny had been poisoned. Twice.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Morgan watched the scene unfold as Sharp’s cell switched over to voice mail. She left a quick message, her attention on Lance, pacing the hallway near his mother’s doorway. Confirmation of the poisoning triggered a quick response both from the investigators and Lance.

  The cops switched into high gear.

  Tension radiated from Lance like heat from a furnace. His body remained in perpetual motion, as if his emotions were too turbulent for him to keep still.

  As if he were barely keeping himself in check.

  He was a man of action. His natural inclination was to funnel fear and sadness into a battle plan.

  Brody and Stella questioned hospital staff, retrieved the surveillance videos, and called for a forensic team.

  Morgan’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her purse. Her grandfather’s cell number displayed on the screen. A quick burst of nerves scattered her pulse. Grandpa didn’t call her without a good reason. Were the girls OK? She stopped at the end of the corridor and answered the call. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine.” He paused.

  Her spine straightened. Something was wrong. “But?”

  “I was reviewing Jenny’s e-mails and phone records today. She doesn’t get many calls that aren’t from Lance, you, or Sharp, but yesterday, she received a call from a strange number. I thought it might be a telemarketer, but I thought I’d dig. Took me a while to get the caller’s identity. Things have changed a bit since I ran investigations. You’ll never guess who called Jenny.”

  “Who?” Morgan asked.

  “Stan Adams.”

  Morgan’s mind
connected dots.

  “I thought you’d want to know right away,” Grandpa said.

  “I do.” Morgan told him what had happened to Jenny.

  “No.” Grandpa swore, a rare event. “I wish I could be more helpful.”

  “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Keep me updated,” Grandpa said. “Love you.”

  “Love you back.” Morgan ended the call.

  She caught Lance’s gaze.

  He strode down the hall. “What is it?”

  “That was my grandfather.” Morgan swallowed. “He reviewed your mother’s e-mail and phone records. Someone called her yesterday.”

  Lance’s attention sharpened to a knifepoint. “Who?”

  “Stan Adams.”

  They knew Stan had lied about his whereabouts the night Vic disappeared, but they hadn’t had a chance to question him again.

  Lance turned and headed for the door.

  Morgan hurried after him. “Where are you going?”

  Whatever else happened tonight, she would not let him go off on his own. He was wired.

  “To talk to Stan,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Stop,” she called.

  Lance turned.

  “We need to tell Stella and Brody.”

  Lance shook his head. “They’ll have to pull their own copy of the phone records, but that will take time, and they’re going to be tied up at this scene all night. It’ll be morning before they’re free to interview Stan.”

  “You can’t cut them out of this.”

  “No. We’ll message them the information from the Jeep.” Lance pivoted and strode away.

  “Don’t you think we should call the sheriff too?” Morgan asked, falling into step with him.

  Lance pushed out of the ICU. “No. He’ll just tell us to stay away from Stan.”

  Morgan hurried to keep up. “He is going to blow a vein if we don’t share this with him.”

  And won’t that make working with him in the future fun.

  “Let him stroke out.” Lance stalked to the elevator and stabbed the button. “We’ve played by the rules, and where did that get us?”

  “None of that is King’s fault.” Morgan faced him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “This is not a good idea. I know Sheriff King is a pain in the ass, but he’s smart, and he’s been right behind us every step of this investigation.”

  “If we involve him, he’ll put us off the case. Considering King doesn’t follow the rule of law, it’s totally hypocritical on his part.”

  “Remember last time we kept the sheriff out of our plans? We almost died.” Morgan shivered, thinking about that night in the woods.

  “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t come with me.”

  His words stung, but she could see the rage pacing through him, as frustrated and pent up as a big cat in a cage.

  “I’m coming with you,” Morgan said, afraid he’d leave her behind. God only knew what he’d do without her to temper him. “We are a team.”

  Lance met her gaze, his eyes softening for just a second. “OK.”

  He jabbed at the elevator button again.

  “What about your mother?” she asked.

  Lance glanced back at the closed doors of the ICU. “Brody and Stella are here. More cops are coming. She’s as safe as she can be for now. But here’s the thing. Brody and Stella and the forensic team will be at the hospital most of tonight. The hospital environment will create challenges for the investigation and the collection of forensic evidence. The ICU staff won’t allow patient care to be compromised. But as soon as the investigation team leaves, how will anyone protect her? We can’t post a lab outside her door and test every drug she needs right before it’s administered. Whoever is trying to kill her is smart and flexible. He has no MO. He’s killing for self-preservation, and he doesn’t care how he gets the job done or how many people become collateral damage along the way. That old man in the next room did nothing, but I am going to bet that he was murdered just to create a diversion so the killer could get to my mother.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Lance stalked inside. Morgan followed him. She briefly considered messaging the sheriff in secret, but loyalty warred with caution. Lance would take it as a betrayal. It would be a betrayal. He was already hurting beyond comprehension. His mother was his only family. How could she ask him to let someone else handle this threat to her life?

  Lance was right. The sheriff would order them away from Stan, and Sheriff King was hampered by the law. Which was the same reason Morgan and Lance had ended up in trouble last time. The entire situation felt too much like déjà vu for Morgan’s comfort.

  But this time, she would make sure they exercised proper caution. They were both armed, and they weren’t alone in the woods in the dark.

  The elevator descended, and the doors opened.

  “We’re only going to talk to Stan,” she said as they stepped out.

  “Right.”

  The cold air hit them halfway across the tiled lobby as the door slid open to admit visitors. They passed a young couple. A colorful bunch of Get Well Soon balloons floated behind them. Outside, the night smelled like snow. Morgan buttoned her coat in a rush. They hustled across the parking lot to the Jeep. Morgan plucked the keys from Lance’s hand. She didn’t trust him behind the wheel, and she wanted some control over their movements. He let her have the keys.

  Morgan opened the vehicle door and spoke over the roof. “We have to let Sharp know where we’re going. Someone needs to keep tabs on us.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “And we will take every other reasonable precaution. One step at a time tonight, OK?” She would ask him to proceed carefully, but she wouldn’t demand he walk away. If it was her family at risk, she would be unstoppable too.

  A defeated sigh hissed from him. “OK.”

  “We’re not going to do anything dangerous.” But she recognized the words as ridiculous even as they tumbled from her cold lips. “I love you.”

  They were on their way to question a potential killer.

  Chapter Forty

  Lance sent messages to Brody and Sharp.

  “Are you all right?” Morgan reached across the console and offered her hand.

  He took it. In a world of uncertainty, filled with lies and betrayal, what she offered him was pure. He’d been a crazy man to even think about turning away her love.

  She loves me.

  When this was all over, he was going to process that. For now, he had to keep swimming forward so he didn’t sink.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know,” he said honestly.

  “You look angry.”

  “I am angry.” His jaw was so tight, he could crack walnuts in his molars. “My father went missing, and everyone was so concerned for themselves, they lied to the police and possibly hindered the investigation.”

  “I know,” Morgan said. “But you won’t get any information out of Stan if you’re too confrontational.”

  “How about I hold him out a window by his ankles? That might convince him to cooperate.”

  Morgan squeezed his fingers. “Let’s make that Plan B. Plan A is to get him to talk without violence.”

  But if Stan had anything to do with his father’s disappearance or the attempt to kill his mother . . .

  “I won’t drag you into anything dangerous,” he said. “I love your girls too much to risk their mother’s life. Call Stan and get him to meet us somewhere public.”

  A public location would also keep Lance from beating the man into a pulp on the spot.

  Morgan called Stan’s cell. She put him on speakerphone. “Hello, Mr. Adams. Lance Kruger and I have a few follow-up questions for you. Do you have some time this evening?”

  “Not really,” Stan said, his words clipped. Other voices and background activity came over the line. “The firm is dealing with an issue tonight. Can it wait until morning?”

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “It’s important.”


  “Fine,” Stan said. “But you’ll have to come to my office.” He disconnected without saying goodbye.

  Morgan drove out of the hospital parking lot. Her phone went off. She handed it to Lance. “It’s a message from Stella. Can you read it?”

  He entered her passcode and read the message. “Stella says, WHERE ARE YOU? Do you want to answer her?”

  “No.” Morgan sighed. “You told Brody what my grandfather found. She’ll figure out where we’re going.”

  A few minutes later, the phone beeped with an incoming call.

  Lance read the display on Morgan’s phone. “It’s your sister.”

  “Don’t answer it,” Morgan said. “With her and Brody working your mother’s case, she has the power to order us away from Stan.”

  He lowered her phone. “I’m sorry if this will cause tension between you and your sister.”

  “It won’t be the first time.” Morgan turned left onto the main road. “You told Sharp where we were going?”

  “Sent him a detailed message.”

  “As long as someone knows.”

  The accounting firm was located in a five-story office building, practically a high-rise in this rural community. Lance and Morgan went into the lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor. The firm was small, two senior accountants, two juniors, and a handful of administrative staff, but their offices took up the entire fourth floor. Large silver letters spelled out ADAMS & BOOKER on the wall opposite the elevator bank.

  In the boring black-and-gray reception area, Morgan handed her business card to the middle-aged brunette behind the desk. “We’re here to see Mr. Adams.”

  Behind the receptionist, harried people bustled.

  “Is he expecting you?” the brunette asked.

  “Yes.” Morgan smiled.

  Lance didn’t try to copy her. He was not capable of a putting on a friendly expression. He hung back and did his best to appear nonthreatening.

  Based on the receptionist’s worried side-eye, he wasn’t successful.

  She pointed to a hallway. “Second door on the left.”

  Morgan stepped in front of Lance. Her glance back at him was worried, like he was going to do something violent. Lance wouldn’t, even though he might like to. He wanted answers.