Save Your Breath

by Leigh, Melinda

  Morgan unlocked the doors with the fob. They climbed into his car, and she handed him the keys.

  “Olivia used to cover the crime beat.” He started the engine. “I wonder if any of her former subjects have gotten out of prison lately.”

  “Finding out sounds like a job for Lance’s mother,” Morgan said. “We should make a list of people for background checks too. You never know what or who you might find in someone’s past.”

  “We’ll get her phone records and find out how many of these people she actually communicated with recently.” Sharp pulled away from the curb.

  During the hour-long drive back to Scarlet Falls, Morgan texted Lance, but he didn’t respond. She also called Olivia’s brothers and the friends on Mrs. Cruz’s list but learned nothing. Olivia hadn’t spoken to any of them in weeks.

  Sharp headed to Morgan’s house. It was after ten o’clock when he finally pulled into her driveway. The skeleton of the new master-suite addition loomed on the side of the house.

  “Where are you going now?” Morgan asked.

  “Back to Olivia’s place.” Sharp stared out the windshield. “I’m going to walk the house again, then start going through her desk.”

  “Why don’t I come with you?” Morgan hated to see him alone with only his worry to keep him company.

  He shook his head. “It’s late. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe I’ll have found a lead by then.”

  “Call us if you discover anything important.” Morgan reached for the door handle and waited for his reply.

  “I will.”

  Morgan climbed out of the car. Sharp didn’t drive away until she was inside the house. She removed her heels in the foyer and left them by the door, then went looking for the family. She found her grandfather in his recliner in the family room, watching the news.

  She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “Is everyone in bed?”

  “Gianna went to sleep early. She wasn’t feeling great. Lance put the kids to bed at eight, but Mia had a bad dream. I haven’t seen him since he went in to talk to her.”

  She set a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

  He put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. “Good night.”

  Morgan walked down the hallway to the girls’ bedroom. Once the new master suite was finished, Gianna would move into the old master, and her room would become Sophie’s. Morgan’s youngest daughter still occasionally suffered from night terrors—aptly named because her screaming was terrifying to everyone except Sophie, who slept right through them.

  Morgan opened their bedroom door. Light slanted from the hallway into the room. Three twin beds were crammed into the space. Lance lay next to Mia’s bed. His eyes were closed. After such a disturbing day, Morgan indulged herself in a few minutes watching him sleep. He was on his back on the hardwood floor, using a stuffed seal as a pillow, one hand clasped behind his head. The other held Mia’s hand. Morgan’s heart swelled with love and gratitude, and tears filled her eyes.

  How did I get this lucky?

  She’d found love a second time, with a man who was willing to take on the intimidating job of being a father to three young children. Morgan wiped her eyes and checked the girls. They were sound asleep. She nudged Lance’s shoulder. He opened his eyes and rolled his head as if his neck ached. He wore navy-blue sweatpants and a gray T-shirt. Silently, he stood and stretched, then followed Morgan from the room.

  In the hallway, he whispered, “Did you eat dinner?”

  “No.” Her stomach grumbled at the suggestion of food.

  He took her hand and pulled her into their brand-new enlarged kitchen. The white cabinets gleamed, and undercabinet lights shone on the gray granite counters.

  “Gianna made you a plate.” Lance opened the fridge and transferred a plate to the microwave. He pushed a button, and the machine hummed. “I’ll be right back.” He rushed out of the room and returned in a minute. “I bought this at the Halloween store.” He held out the rubber zombie mask. “Does it look like the piece of material Stella found next to Olivia’s bed?”

  Morgan rubbed it between her fingers. “Yes. We should give it to Stella so the lab can compare the pieces. The color seems a little lighter to me.”

  “There must have been fifty different masks in the store. Thousands must be available online.” Lance got up to pace. “Why would there be a piece of a Halloween mask in Olivia’s bedroom?”

  Morgan’s brain whirled with possibilities. “I can think of no good reason.”

  The microwave dinged, and Lance set her plate in front of her. She ate without tasting the food, her mind on the case.

  Gianna walked into the kitchen, her face pale.

  “Do you feel all right?” Morgan didn’t like her pallor, but Gianna was often fatigued after dialysis. Ironically, the process that kept her alive also drained her of energy.

  “I think I’m getting a cold.” Gianna washed two Tylenol tablets down with water. “A bunch of kids in Ava’s class are sick.”

  “The back-to-school virus. Maybe you should go to the doctor tomorrow,” Morgan suggested.

  “It’s just a cold.” Gianna went back to bed.

  Morgan and Lance walked back to their bedroom together. Lance doubled his pillows and lay down, his hands clasped behind his head. Exhausted but also restless, Morgan changed into pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth.

  She climbed into bed beside him and told him about her evening visit with the Cruz family. “It’s heartbreaking. They’re so scared.”

  “So is Sharp.” He pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. She rested her head on his chest. He turned off the light.

  Morgan listened to his heartbeat and closed her eyes, but sleep did not come. Twenty minutes later, she shifted position, restless.

  “Can’t sleep?” Lance whispered.

  “No.” She sat up.

  “Me either.” He turned on the light. “Did Sharp say where he was going after he dropped you off?”

  “To Olivia’s.” Morgan checked the time on her phone. Eleven thirty. “He’s probably still there.”

  Lance reached for a pair of pants on the bedside chair. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sharp stood in the middle of Olivia’s kitchen. He pictured her standing at the island, chopping homegrown herbs and drinking a glass of red wine. For a quiet evening at home, she’d wear worn jeans or yoga pants. Her hair would be up in a ponytail. She’d look up at him as he came into the room. Her face would brighten. She’d smile, and his step would lighten.

  He could see her in front of him as if she were there. But the image faded too quickly. Bowled over by a rush of emotions that bombarded him faster than he could identify them, his chest tightened and he lost his breath. When the onslaught of emotions ended, he was left with only two: love and fear, intertwined like a Celtic knot.

  Bowing his head, he hooked a hand around the back of his neck.

  She couldn’t be gone. Their relationship was just getting off the ground. Missing her was a force, a pressure within his body that he wouldn’t have suspected existed yesterday.

  Why did it take losing someone to make one appreciate them?

  He had to find her. She’d only recently entered his life, but in a few short months, she’d become the first person he called when he received important news, good or bad. He enjoyed her quick wit, her clever banter, and the way she took absolutely zero shit from anyone, including—maybe especially—him. She was brilliant, often several steps ahead of him in any conversation. If he had vanished, she would have figured it out immediately.

  He couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Did she leave in the middle of the night to pursue a story for her next book?

  She was a reporter. But no one had called her, either on her home phone or her cell, so the outing would have been planned. Olivia had plenty of street smarts. He couldn’t believe she would go somewhere dange
rous without taking minimal safety precautions. She would have told someone where she was going, or she would have left a note. She’d been in the crime reporting business for twenty-five years. She took calculated risks for her job, not stupid ones.

  Olivia’s call the night before played in his mind. She had wanted to talk to the three of them about a conflict she was having over her research. Was the issue with her research related to her disappearance?

  A car engine sounded from outside. Sharp whirled and strode down the hall to the front door. Through the narrow panes of glass next to the door, he saw headlights approaching. His heart broke into a gallop.

  Olivia?

  The vehicle came closer and drove under the streetlight. Lance’s Jeep pulled to the curb. Disappointment washed over Sharp. The space behind his ribs felt hollow, and his heart hurt. He rubbed his sternum.

  Lance and Morgan climbed out of the SUV and walked to the door. Sharp let them inside. Lance was carrying a plastic shopping bag. He reached inside and pulled out a rubber mask. Without a word, he held it out.

  Sharp took it, turning it over in his hands. “This looks like the scrap of rubber we found next to Olivia’s bed.”

  “That’s what we thought,” Lance said.

  “Was Olivia planning to attend a costume party for Halloween?” Morgan asked.

  “She didn’t mention one to me. We usually compare calendars, but Halloween is still six weeks away.”

  “We’ll double-check her calendar,” Morgan said. “But I didn’t see any other parts of a costume when we searched the house earlier.”

  “How hard is this to rip?” Sharp tested the mask, digging his fingers into the rubber and pulling. The material tore. He twisted and a square of rubber broke free. “That answers that question.” He stared at the rubber, dread gathering in his gut. “It seems to me we can eliminate the possibility that she left on her own.”

  “Someone took her,” Morgan said quietly.

  “But how?” Sharp turned to the house again, trying to reconstruct Olivia’s evening in light of this new disturbing clue. “Her security panel showed her disarming the system when she arrived home at about ten o’clock. Two minutes later, the system was reset using the At Home setting. Then at 2:13 a.m., the system was disarmed again and reactivated in Away mode.”

  Lance walked to the panel. “Her alarm is outdated.”

  “And she doesn’t have motion detectors or cameras.” Sharp could kick himself. He should have insisted on updating her system. “I didn’t see any sign that the alarm system was hacked, but I can’t rule it out. Everything that operates on Wi-Fi is vulnerable to hacking.”

  Lance turned away from the alarm panel. “Let’s walk through the house assuming her security system was compromised and her house breached. Then she was kidnapped.”

  Sharp went down a short hallway to the bedroom. Lance and Morgan followed him.

  Sharp stood in the doorway and stared at the covers spilling onto the floor. He imagined what could have happened. “He surprised her while she was sleeping.”

  “Wearing a Halloween mask.” Morgan shivered, rubbing her arms.

  Sharp remembered a night three months back when he and Olivia had gotten themselves into a jam with two goons. She’d fought hard, scratching and clawing for her freedom. She was tough.

  “Olivia would not have gone quietly. She would have put up a fight.” Sharp pictured the events unfolding in front of him. “She would have gone for his face with her nails.”

  “But he was wearing a mask,” Lance added. “Which she tore.”

  “He overpowered her, restrained her, or pulled a weapon.” Sharp imagined a masked man dragging Olivia from her bed, the covers being pulled off the mattress along with her body. “And forced or carried her to the garage.”

  They retraced their steps to the kitchen.

  “Her purse would have been on the island.” Sharp pointed. “So the intruder would have her phone, the security system fob, and her car keys. He could have turned her alarm system on and off easily using either the fob or the app on her phone.”

  They walked to the short hallway that led to the laundry room.

  “He exited through the garage.” Sharp stared at the wood trim. Stella had taken the broken fingernail and sampled the blood, but the smear was still visible. “She grabbed the doorjamb on the way out.”

  “If she had broken away right here”—Morgan opened the door and stood in the doorway—“then she could have closed and locked the door with him on the garage side.” To demonstrate, she motioned for Lance to walk down the two wooden steps to the concrete floor while she stayed in the laundry room.

  “But that didn’t happen”—Lance walked farther into the garage—“because he put her in the back of her car.”

  “Her car is a hatchback. It doesn’t have a trunk.” Sharp walked to where Olivia’s Prius was usually parked. “He would have had to incapacitate her in some way.”

  “He clearly planned this down to the smallest detail,” Morgan said. “He would have brought something to restrain her. Rope. Zip ties.”

  Or used drugs, a Taser, or a blunt instrument to render her defenseless.

  Sharp’s mind jumped in with other possibilities. He stared at the two yellow sticky notes that marked the locations of Olivia’s fallen earrings, and he knew.

  How did he not see it the first time he’d walked the scene?

  She was clever, clearly smarter than Sharp, and she would never give up.

  “She left us a trail.” His gaze locked on the empty concrete. Trying to absorb the scene playing out in his mind, Sharp rubbed his scalp with both hands. “I should have known. I should have assumed she’d been kidnapped.”

  He’d let her down already.

  “Sharp.” Morgan’s voice was clipped. “You had no way of knowing. Now let’s start looking in her office for a motive.”

  “Right.” Sharp nodded. Back to work.

  “She keeps her calendar and contact information on her phone, which is missing, but it syncs with her computer. She keeps her laptop on her desk.” Sharp turned and led the way back through the house to Olivia’s office. He flipped the wall switch, and light brightened the room. A built-in desk and bookshelves lined the walls.

  “I should be able to break into her laptop,” Lance offered. “I’ll have to hack around her screen passcode, but it’s not hard.”

  Sharp gestured toward the desk, and Lance took the chair behind it. He opened the laptop and went to work. In less than two minutes, he bypassed the opening-screen password.

  “I’m in.” Lance looked up.

  Morgan walked toward the shelves and began scanning them. Olivia had research books on every aspect of the criminal justice system, from police procedure to criminal defense. “We need to know which cases she was researching.” She stopped at a row of binders. “Is all Olivia’s research on her laptop, or does she keep written notes as well?”

  “Both.” Sharp leaned over Lance’s shoulder. “She transcribes her interviews and notes onto the computer, but she keeps the originals. She organizes everything in those binders in some sort of elaborate system.” Sharp remembered seeing a black and a red binder on Olivia’s desk earlier in the week. He spotted the two binders lying on their sides on the shelf over the desk. He picked up the first one and opened it, scanning the page. “Olivia was researching the case of Cliff Franklin, who was convicted of murder in 2016.”

  Lance looked up. “I see two recently accessed folders on her computer. One is entitled ‘Franklin Case.’ You’re never going to guess the name of the second case.”

  Morgan turned away from the shelves. “What is it?”

  Lance looked up and met her gaze. “Olander.”

  Morgan froze. “Olivia was interested in Erik Olander’s case?”

  Sharp retrieved and then opened the second binder. “Yes. This book is labeled ‘Olander.’ Isn’t that the name of the woman who shot herself outside the office?”

  “Yes.
” Morgan looked troubled.

  “That’s a hell of a coincidence.” Sharp moved behind the chair and read the computer screen over Lance’s shoulder. If Olivia was interested in the case, Morgan would be second-guessing her decision to turn down Mrs. Olander.

  Morgan reached for the binders.

  Sharp let her have them. He didn’t like the coincidence, and he knew Morgan wouldn’t either.

  “I wonder if she found something to suggest Erik Olander was innocent.” Shaking her head, Morgan closed the binder and splayed her hand on its cover. “It’s too much material to read quickly. I’d like to take all of this back to our office and put it on the whiteboard.”

  “I agree.” Lance closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm. “We need to get organized.”

  The three of them could divide and conquer all this information. Plus, Lance and Morgan saw different patterns. Over the past year, they had learned to work as a team. Their different skill sets complemented each other, and Sharp needed their help.

  The clock was already ticking.

  Olivia had been gone for twenty-two hours. Sharp had already misinterpreted several clues. Now he had to hope Olivia didn’t die because of his mistakes.

  Chapter Twelve

  Back at Sharp Investigations, Lance tossed his jacket on his chair and then hustled into Morgan’s office. Sharp was right behind him.

  “I’m going to try to hack into Olivia’s online accounts,” Lance affirmed.

  Morgan gestured to the whiteboard that hung on her wall. When they worked complicated cases, her office became their war room. “Why don’t you stay here and use the board? I’ll take the binders into the kitchen and start reading.” She grabbed her laptop and withdrew.

  Sharp sat in Morgan’s chair. Facing him across the desk, Lance opened his laptop. They spent the next few hours hacking into Olivia’s online cell service and credit card statements. Luckily, Olivia used the same password for most of her accounts.

  “I’ll tackle these phone and financial records.” Sharp flexed his fingers over the keyboard of Olivia’s computer.