“Between the Glock in your hand and the dog, you didn’t need much rescuing,” Sharp said.
“I still appreciate it.” Morgan shifted the duffel bag in her hand and grabbed her purse from the kitchen chair. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Then we can look for Voss’s wife.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Lance walked her to the front door.
She stooped to pet the dog’s head. “Thank you. You have to stay here, at least for now.”
Lance followed her outside, making sure the dog didn’t get out the front door.
On the sidewalk next to her van, she turned to him. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Lance said. “You were upset about Nick.”
Their gazes locked for a few seconds.
Her eyes were sad and resigned. “It wasn’t all right, and I am sorry.” She turned away and slid into the driver’s seat, tossing her purse and duffel bag across the console. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
And didn’t that just unleash a flood of regret?
If only things were different. If she wasn’t hung up on her dead husband. If there weren’t three innocent little kids that would be affected by any fallout. If his mother’s mental illness didn’t consume so much of his life.
Too many ifs.
But he’d been completely honest the night before. He wouldn’t be a regret. Not with her.
“Text me when you’re home?” he asked.
She nodded and closed the door.
Lance watched her drive away. The empty hole in the pit of his stomach worried that by taking the high road last night, he’d passed up his only opportunity to make love to her.
He shook off his mood and went back inside. Sharp was in the kitchen when Lance returned.
“I want to know why that man was outside my house this morning,” Sharp said.
“But did he follow her here or lie in wait?” Lance asked.
“Good question. I also wonder if he knew I live upstairs.”
“He definitely didn’t know about the dog.” Lance walked back to the kitchen. The dog was in the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Rocket Dog gave him quite a surprise.”
“Don’t look at her. It makes her nervous.” Sharp ignored the dog. She cowered under the table as he filled bowls with food and water and set them in the corner as if he did it every day. “So why was Morgan dressed in your clothes this morning?” Sharp asked with his typical bluntness.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Lance went to the fridge and poured a glass of filtered water.
Sharp raised his hands. “I didn’t make any assumptions.”
“It was late when we left the hospital last night. Morgan stayed in my guest room. Nothing happened.” Lance didn’t know why it felt important that Sharp know that.
Sharp said, “Of course nothing happened. You’d never take advantage of her.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “Does that make me a jerk?”
That kiss had nearly done him in.
“No. It makes you human.” Sharp slapped him on the back.
A knock sounded at the door. Lance walked to the foyer and looked through the window. “It’s Tony Allessi, Jamie Lewis’s best friend.”
He opened the door.
Tony’s Mohawk had changed color to bright green. “I know it’s early. I wanted to stop on my way to school. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jamie.”
Lance stepped aside. Sharp was in the hallway behind him. He gestured to his office. “Let’s go in here.”
Tony paced a nervous square in front of Sharp’s desk. Lance crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. Sharp sat down behind his desk. “What can we do for you, Tony?”
Tony stopped. “It’s Jamie.”
“Have you seen her?” Sharp asked.
“No. That’s just it.” Tony resumed his tour of the room’s perimeter. “Since she left home, we’ve met twice a week at the lake. I brought her food and other stuff she might need. She didn’t tell me where she was staying, but I knew she was OK.”
“And now?” Lance pushed off the wall.
“She missed our last couple of meetings. I don’t know where she went. I looked everywhere I could think of. Nobody’s seen her.”
Sharp frowned. “Since when?”
“Since the night Tessa Palmer died.” Tony stopped behind a chair and put both hands on the back. His fingers clenched. “I’m really worried.”
Sharp nodded. “Smart of you to come to us.”
“Make a list of everywhere she might have gone.” Lance went to the war room and returned with a blank sheet of computer paper. He handed Tony a pen from Sharp’s desk.
“OK.” Tony eased into the chair and leaned on the desk as he wrote. “But I already checked out all these places.”
“Make another list of anyone else Jamie might have gone to for help,” Sharp added.
Tony finished writing and pushed the list across the desk. “I wrote my cell phone number on the bottom, in case you want to ask me anything else.”
“Thanks, Tony.” Lance escorted him out the door, and then returned to Sharp’s office.
“Damn it. We need to find this kid, and we need to make sure she’s safe.” Sharp waved Tony’s list. “I’m going to start on this list. If this kid is still around, someone has seen her.”
Lance headed for his office while Sharp left via the front door. As Lance settled in his chair, he heard crunching from the kitchen, then the sound of the dog lapping water.
There were too many people hiding in this town. They had to find Jamie for her own sake, and the police needed to locate Dean Voss for everyone else’s.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Morgan walked through her front door. Sophie was already up. She stood on a stool in the kitchen “helping” Gianna make pancakes.
“Morning.” Gianna caught Morgan’s eye. “Any new updates?”
“Nick is doing better.” Morgan nodded. She’d talked to Bud in the car. She’d also left a message for the county sheriff. He needed to provide her with the details on Nick’s attack.
“Mommy!” Sophie leaped from her chair and raced to Morgan.
Morgan caught her in midair and kissed her on the forehead. With her daughter’s thin limbs wrapped around her waist, she walked toward the hallway. “I’ll wake Ava and Mia.” A chatty breakfast with her girls was exactly what Morgan needed to regroup.
She helped them dress, brushed and braided their hair, and walked them to the bus stop. Sophie refused to let Morgan touch her hair, saying she would wait for Gianna to make her kitten ears.
As the bus approached, she took Sophie’s hand, kissed Mia and Ava, and watched her two oldest girls climb the big steps into the school bus. She and Sophie turned toward the house.
Sophie skipped. “Me and Gianna are baking cookies today.”
“You are?”
“Uh-huh.” Sophie nodded. “Kitten ones.”
“Kitten cookies sound yummy.”
“We have chocolate chips for their eyes and licorice for whiskers.”
Morgan opened the door and they went inside.
Gianna had cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast. She closed the dishwasher door. “If you bring me the basket of hair things, I’ll make your kitten ears.”
“Meow.” Sophie skipped from the room.
“I can’t thank you enough. She seems really happy.”
“I already told you. I love being with the girls.” Gianna smiled. “I feel like I have little sisters.”
“Tomorrow you have dialysis. I know you offered to be their nanny, but you must promise that you’ll tell me if they’re too much for you,” Morgan said. “This situation will only work if we communicate.”
“OK.” Gianna wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “But my dialysis treatments line up with Sophie’s preschool schedule. As long as I can catch a nap afterward, we should be fine.”
“We still have to discuss a salary for you.”<
br />
Gianna gave her head a stubborn shake. “No.”
“I’ll let it go for now, but we will have this discussion again.” Morgan turned toward the doorway.
“My answer won’t change,” Gianna called after her.
Morgan showered and dressed in black slacks and a cotton blouse, tucking her Glock into her inside-the-waistband holster behind her right hip. After slipping into a blazer and flats, she kissed Sophie good-bye and headed for the office.
Tessa’s murder needed to be solved. Nick was going to live, but he was still in danger of going to prison.
She went through the front door of the office and walked down the hall toward the war room. Lance was coming out of the kitchen and nearly collided with her. His hair was still damp. She’d shoved the previous night in the back of her mind, but the cedar scent of his shower gel brought it back with a rush. The feel of his muscles under her hands. The smell of his skin. The taste of his mouth.
Heat rushed to her face.
Last night she’d been upset, and whiskey had lowered her inhibitions, but this morning she was 100 percent sober. There was no denying that she still wanted him.
But was she ready to do something about it?
And after her behavior last night, was he still interested in her? She’d been an idiot.
She ducked into the war room. Lance followed.
Sharp stood in front of the whiteboard. “Do we have an update on Nick’s condition?”
“Yes,” Morgan said. “Bud called while I was in the car. The doctors are very pleased with his improvement. He’s been upgraded from critical to stable and should be moved out of intensive care this morning.”
Lance exhaled. “That’s great.”
“I’m waiting to hear from the sheriff. I want to know who stabbed Nick and why,” Morgan said. “The inmate who attacked him took a huge risk. He needed a reason to attack Nick. It could have been simple jail violence, but there’s a greater chance that it wasn’t.”
Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not that hard to arrange a hit on the inside, but why?”
“Maybe the real killer assumed if Nick died, we wouldn’t have a client, and we’d stop investigating.” Morgan walked the length of the room and back. “Which means we’ve made someone uncomfortable. We’re on the right track.”
Lance pointed to photos of Robby Barone and his father. “I talked to my mom. She’s found nothing on the Barones. They seem to have disappeared into thin air. She has found several small corporations linked to other suspected members. She’s digging through layers of shell companies to see if they own real estate.”
Sharp said, “I called a couple of my pals. There’s been no sign of Dean Voss. The local, county, and state cops are all looking for him. They do know that Voss was in special forces. He’s not going to be easy to find.”
“They’re looking for Rambo.” Lance sighed.
“Exactly,” Sharp agreed.
Morgan said, “We’re going to try to talk to Mrs. Voss today in hopes that she has some idea where her husband is hiding.”
“Good luck with that.” Sharp rubbed a hand over his head. “She’s cooperating with the police. They’re watching her. They think Voss might try and contact her.”
Damn.
Morgan stared at the board. “Who’s left on our suspect list?”
“Jacob Emerson,” Lance said. “Could that have been him following you this morning?”
Morgan took the image captured on the surveillance video and fastened it to the board with a magnet. “This could be either Dean Voss or Jacob Emerson. They’re about the same size and build.”
Lance shook his head. “For argument’s sake, let’s assume the same man stalked Morgan this morning and arranged the attack on Nick. If that’s true, then I can’t see Jacob Emerson having the contacts to orchestrate a jail hit.”
“Could his father have arranged that? What kind of law does Mr. Emerson practice?” Sharp asked.
Morgan opened her file and flipped to Mr. Emerson’s pages. “He specializes in medical malpractice, but he’s also defended some DUIs, which means he’s spent time in the courtroom and jail.”
Morgan’s phone vibrated. “This is the sheriff.”
She answered the call. “Morgan Dane.”
“Ms. Dane,” the sheriff said. “What can I do for you?”
“Thank you for returning my call. Who stabbed my client, sheriff?”
The sheriff began, “The man’s name is Zachary Menendez. He’s awaiting trial on three counts of first-degree murder.”
“Do you have any idea why he did it?”
“So far, Mr. Menendez has exercised his right to remain silent.” The sheriff’s voice reflected his contempt. “But I know the charges already filed against him are pretty tight. He’s expected to go to jail for the next hundred years. He’s a very violent man. I’m not sure he needs a reason to hurt people.”
Morgan didn’t believe that for a second. Menendez could have stabbed anyone in that pod. Why did he choose Nick? “What else do you know about him?”
“He has mental health issues,” the sheriff said. “He’s a heroin addict, and he’s been homeless since he was discharged from the military five years ago.”
“Do you have any of his military records?” she asked. Could he know Dean Voss?
“No. He was in some kind of special forces. The military isn’t fond of sharing that sort of information,” the sheriff replied. “You don’t need to worry about your client when he returns to jail. We’ve transferred Menendez to isolation. He’ll be charged with attempted murder, on top of the other charges he was already facing.”
“Thank you for the information.” Morgan didn’t discuss any possible lawsuit on Nick’s behalf. She was determined that Nick would never return to jail. “I’d like to see the surveillance footage of the incident.”
“Of course.” But the sheriff didn’t apologize for the stabbing. The man was smart enough to know that an apology could be interpreted as an admission of fault and that Morgan would likely file a civil suit on Nick’s behalf.
“Thank you,” Morgan offered.
“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need any more information.” The sheriff ended the call.
Morgan summarized the call for Sharp and Lance. “The man who stabbed Nick was in special forces. How do we find out if he served with Dean Voss?”
“We need to talk to Voss’s wife,” Lance said. “She might either know Menendez or someone else who served with her husband.”
“Good luck.” Sharp turned back to the board. “I have a meeting scheduled this morning with Jamie Lewis’s parents. Then I’m going to see what else I can learn about Menendez.”
“Any luck finding Jamie?” Morgan asked.
“No,” Sharp said. “The last time anyone saw her was the night Tessa disappeared.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Morgan stood, slinging the strap of her tote over her shoulder. “I hope nothing’s happened to her.”
Morgan and Lance went out to the Jeep. They drove the first few blocks in silence.
She stared out the passenger window as they drove through Scarlet Falls. Close to the town center, homes were large and well-kept, with wide porches, trimmed shrubs, and neat patches of green grass. But who knew what was happening behind those freshly painted closed doors? She lowered her window a few inches. The crisp morning air smelled of dead leaves and wood smoke. The tension between her and Lance crackled like a bonfire. Had she damaged their relationship?
She glanced sideways at him. “I hope I didn’t ruin our friendship.”
“You didn’t.” But his body language contradicted his words. The muscles of his jaw clenched, and his fingers tightened on the wheel for just a second. If she hadn’t been watching for it, she wouldn’t have noticed.
She turned away to stare out the windshield, exhaustion sliding over, weighting her limbs like a thick comforter. She shook it off. Repairing their relationship wou
ld have to wait. Nick’s case needed all her energy.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Mrs. Voss lived in a development of small homes on postage-stamp lots. Upkeep was a mixed bag. Some lawns were mowed and raked, others overgrown. Lance parked at the curb of a small bungalow. No peeling paint or dangling shutters, but the grass needed mowing. He surveyed the surrounding houses but saw no sign of Dean Voss.
Across the street, a police car sat at the curb. Lance recognized the young cop in the driver’s seat. Really? Horner had put the rookie on duty to watch for an ex-special forces soldier?
Lance scanned the property. “I guess Mrs. Voss hasn’t had time to mow the lawn.”
Morgan gathered her tote. “If one of my neighbors had grass that high, Grandpa would be at their door asking if everything was all right. Then he’d have seen to the grass.”
“Either this isn’t that kind of neighborhood or Mrs. Voss isn’t that kind of neighbor.”
Two doors down from the Vosses’, a garage door opened and a man emerged to fetch his garbage can from the curb.
“Let’s find out.” Morgan got out of the car.
She and Lance walked toward the neighbor. The sky was overcast, and the lack of sunlight made the morning feel cool.
“Hello,” she called.
The neighbor was middle aged. He wore khaki pants and a blue polo shirt with the logo for an electronics store on the chest.
Morgan made the introductions. “Do you know the Vosses?”
“I’m Ned Burke,” the neighbor said. “I know them just enough not to want to get closer. They aren’t very friendly, and the husband is a hothead. I just moved in last March. Couldn’t open my windows. The whole neighborhood could hear them fighting. It’s been quieter since he moved out. I heard he completely lost his shit. Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Have you seen Dean since?” Morgan asked.
“Yes.” The neighbor nodded. “He came a couple of weeks ago to bang on her door. I went outside to ask him to keep it down, and he told me if I didn’t mind my own fucking business, he’d make me.”
Lance didn’t like the image of Voss he was forming in his head, a man with a violent temper who’d been trained to hurt people. “What happened?”
Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Page 28
