Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Read online

  “Jacob is the ex-boyfriend?” Lance asked.

  “Not exactly. Jacob and Tessa went on a few dates last April,” Morgan clarified.

  Sharp stretched his arms over his head.

  “Do we know who took the video?” Lance asked.

  “Yes.” Morgan sifted through a few papers. “A kid by the name of Brandon Nolan.”

  “Did Brandon say why he didn’t post the video sooner?” Sharp asked.

  Morgan sorted through the police interviews. “Yes. He missed his curfew Thursday night, and his dad grounded him and took his phone for a week as punishment. The police didn’t have Brandon on their initial list of partygoers. He’s not in Tessa’s inner social circle. The police did interview him after they became aware of the video. He said he left right after the fight.”

  Sharp snorted. “So the second he got his phone back, he posted the video without thinking it could be related to Tessa’s murder?”

  “Yes, he did.” Morgan sighed. She’d prosecuted enough teens that the lack of forethought didn’t surprise her. “Let’s finish the timeline. Nick and Jacob fought shortly after the party started. By nine thirty, Nick and Tessa went off in his car. According to Nick, they had consensual, unprotected sex in the backseat. When they returned to the party sometime around ten, they had an argument. Nick says Tessa broke up with him. This is verified by the text Tessa sent Felicity at 10:43 p.m. The party broke up between ten and ten thirty. Nick says he left Tessa there. She had her own car.”

  “Did anyone confirm this?” Sharp asked.

  “Yes. Robby Barone and Felicity both stated that they left after Nick.” Morgan continued, “Nick says he drove around until about midnight. His phone was dead, so we have no GPS data. His father was asleep when he came home.”

  “So Bud can’t even back him up on that,” Lance said.

  “Right.” Morgan jotted times and events on her timeline, then pulled out the autopsy report. “Tessa died between 10:30 p.m. Thursday night and 4:00 a.m. Friday morning. She was stabbed nine times, but the ME thinks she died quickly. Considering the extent of her wounds . . .” Morgan shuddered as she looked at an autopsy photo. “One of the initial wounds was a deep puncture to the heart. If she’d lived through the entire attack, there would have been more blood.”

  Wounds didn’t bleed much after the heart stopped beating.

  Morgan flipped to the next page in the autopsy report. “The autopsy also shows bruising and abrasions consistent with sexual assault. Semen recovered from Tessa’s body and blood scraped from under her thumbnail matches Nick’s DNA. The ME also found traces of condom lubricant. The DA theorizes that Nick tried to use a condom, which shows premeditation and the desire to not be caught, but the condom broke.”

  Sharp went to the table and rifled through some papers. “In your interview with Nick, he said he had a bloody nose from the fight with Jacob and that Tessa cleaned him up. Is that in his original statement to the police, or did he say that in response to the blood being found under Tessa’s nail?”

  Morgan found his initial police interview. “Unfortunately, he did not include that information in his original statement. But the police didn’t ask him any questions that would have prompted him to reveal that. Overall, Nick’s statements are consistent.”

  “Did they offer him a polygraph?” Lance asked.

  “No, but we should consider it.” Morgan made more notes, and then returned to her narrative. “The knife recovered from Nick’s yard matches Tessa’s wounds, but that DNA test is still pending. There were no fingerprints on the knife. There was a T-shirt with blood on it in Nick’s hamper.”

  “From his bloody nose,” Lance said.

  “That would be my conclusion. That DNA test is also pending.” Morgan looked up. “The DNA on the shirt should be Nick’s. I assume the blood on the knife is Tessa’s. The DA refuses to expedite those tests.”

  “Why would he? He already has his suspect locked up,” Sharp said.

  “And maybe he’s used up all his favors,” Lance added.

  Morgan nodded, frustrated. “Things the police did not find at Nick’s house or at the crime scene: a broken condom, bloody pants, or bloody shoes.”

  Lance interrupted. “So Nick managed to dispose of the condom, his pants, and his shoes, but he tossed his bloody shirt in his hamper and buried the murder weapon behind his shed? That makes no sense.”

  “There is no way he stabbed that girl nine times without getting blood on his pants and shoes,” Sharp agreed. “The knife had to be a plant.”

  “Meaning Nick was intentionally framed,” Morgan said.

  “Right. Make a note to check the forensic reports when they come in, to see if any semen was found under the body or in Nick’s car,” Sharp said. “Was she raped and killed in the same place?”

  Morgan returned to her chair and shuffled through more papers. “The forensics reports aren’t in, but I see notations about blood being visible under and immediately around the body. There is a notation of the black light picking up a small amount of semen on the backseat of Nick’s car.”

  “Which is consistent with Nick’s statement.” Lance studied the board. “But the DA will argue that Nick could have raped her in the car, then dragged her out to stab her.”

  Sharp closed his marker. Holding it in both hands behind his back, he paced back and forth in front of the whiteboard. “She could have gotten away from him and ran. Then he chased her down and stabbed her.”

  Morgan rubbed at an ache in the back of her neck. “By ten thirty, Tessa was alone at the lake.”

  Sharp halted and frowned. “So what happened next?”

  Three beats of silence passed, then Lance asked, “Did Nick know she was pregnant?”

  “I don’t think so. He didn’t mention it.” Morgan wrote the question in her notes for her next interview with Nick. “I didn’t know about it when I interviewed him. But the DA’s theory is that she broke up with him because she was pregnant with another guy’s baby. Nick became enraged. He came back to the party and attacked her.”

  “It’s a reasonable hypothesis.” Sharp pivoted to face the board. “But it isn’t without holes.”

  Morgan scanned the autopsy. “The ME notes that a chunk of Tessa’s hair was cut from her head using a blade, not scissors. It was not found at the scene.”

  Sharp straightened. “A trophy?”

  “Or a memento,” Lance said. “May I see that report?”

  Morgan moved aside, giving him access to the pages she’d spread out on the table.

  Lance moved to a pile of crime scene photos and selected one. “Tessa was wearing a denim skirt. When she was found, she was fully dressed and her skirt was arranged over her legs.” Lance took the photo and attached it to the murder board with a magnet. “He dressed her or allowed her to dress, suggesting the murder didn’t occur immediately after the rape.”

  “So was the killer ashamed of the rape?” Morgan asked. “Maybe that’s why he wrote sorry on her forehead.”

  “Possibly, if he’s the one who is sorry. It’s also possible that he thinks Tessa should have been sorry for something.” Sharp stepped up next to Lance and stared at the picture. “Because I see rage in the extent of Tessa’s injuries.” Sharp’s gaze flickered back and forth between the timeline, the photos, and the inconsistencies. “Nick said he didn’t use a condom.”

  “Correct,” Morgan said.

  “Were any condoms found at his house?” Lance asked.

  “No.” Morgan pointed at the board. “But whoever raped Tessa brought a condom and a knife with him, making his attack premeditated.”

  “So her killer was very angry but planned out his attack,” Sharp said in a tight voice. “At least in the time immediately preceding the murder. Possible motives: jealousy, possession . . .”

  “If I can’t have her no one can?” Lance returned to the table. “Do we have Tessa’s phone records?”

  “Yes,” Morgan said. “The Palmers gave the police immedi
ate access to their account. For a teenager, she doesn’t have much activity on her phone. Mostly she texted back and forth with Felicity and Nick. Reviewing her texts for the three weeks before her death, I found complaints that her grandparents are ridiculous, they don’t understand her, they want her to date Jacob. She describes him as an obnoxious jerk. She doesn’t mention her pregnancy. However, on the night she was murdered, right after she texted Felicity, she placed a twenty-nine-second phone call to the landline at Jacob Emerson’s house.”

  “Who uses a landline?” Sharp asked.

  “I don’t even have one,” Lance added.

  “In Jacob’s interview, he says he and Tessa only went out a couple of times. His parents and her grandparents kept pushing them together, but he says they weren’t ‘into each other.’” Morgan used air quotes. “Jacob isn’t permitted to have his phone at night. It gets turned off and left in the kitchen. Tessa knew the rule and called on the landline. Jacob’s father answered the phone and told her to call back in the morning.”

  Sharp rubbed the back of his neck. “What about the connection between Tessa and Jamie?” He put a photo of Jamie on the board and drew a line connecting it with Tessa’s picture.

  Lance hung a picture of Kevin Murdoch on the board. “I want more background information on Jamie’s soon-to-be stepfather.”

  “The excessive sweater?” Sharp asked.

  “Lance is right,” Morgan agreed. “Kevin was far too nervous during our interview. In addition to sweating bullets, Kevin couldn’t hold eye contact or keep his hands off his face. He knew Tessa, and he’s hiding something. I want to know what.”

  “Did the police collect DNA from any of the other kids?” Sharp asked. “The forensic reports aren’t in, but the medical examiner found a number of hairs on her body and clothing. Different colors. Different lengths. None of those have been tested yet.”

  Morgan shook her head. “No. It seems they focused only on Nick from the very beginning. But she could have picked up hairs hugging her friends.”

  “But they could still be compared to the DNA of the fetus,” Sharp said, “if we think the unknown father is a suspect for her rape and murder. A condom prevents the transfer of DNA via semen, but it’s hard to rape a woman without leaving any biological evidence behind. I’ve no doubt that forensics will turn up other sources of DNA. The difficulty lies in determining what belongs to the killer and what could have been transferred through normal activities.”

  Lance stood and rubbed his thigh. He said his bullet wound was fine, but it clearly still bothered him. “So what’s our theory?”

  Morgan set her marker on the narrow ledge of the whiteboard. “Tessa was alone at the lake. We know she was upset with her grandparents. She texted Felicity about her breakup with Nick. Then she called Jacob’s house but was denied access to him. What happened next? Someone had to come back to the lake and attack her. He brought a condom and a knife with him. He knew she was there and planned to kill her.”

  “But who?” Lance asked.

  “I want to get a copy of last year’s high school yearbook,” Morgan said. “Then we can see who Tessa hung out with last year.”

  “The autopsy says she was approximately eight weeks pregnant, so she got pregnant in July,” Lance pointed out. “Not during the school year.”

  Morgan nodded. “True, but I doubt very much that Tessa slept with a boy she didn’t know.”

  Sharp jerked a thumb at his growing lists of Witnesses and Suspects. “We need to gather as much information as possible about every one of these people. Lance, how about we get your mom on that?”

  Lance fumbled a pencil. “My mom?”

  His mom? Morgan’s curiosity piqued. Other than the revelation about his father’s disappearance, Lance didn’t talk much about his family or past.

  Sharp nodded. “She’s the pro at accessing online information, and we need the help.” He gestured toward the board. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this case is a total cluster. Our best alternate suspect is a seventeen-year-old with a lawyer for a father.”

  “My mom has never helped us with a case. She might not want to get involved,” Lance protested.

  “You won’t know until you ask.” Sharp pinned Lance with a look. “She might appreciate being useful. It could be good for her.”

  Lance looked doubtful.

  “Do you want me to ask her?” Sharp offered.

  “No. I have to check on her today anyway.” But Lance didn’t look happy about the idea. “No promises.”

  “Understood.” Sharp nodded.

  “We need to interview Robby Barone, Felicity Weber, and Jacob Emerson. I have no doubt Mr. Emerson will be in on Jacob’s interview.” Morgan abandoned her file, went to the board, and started a list of Questions.

  Who was the father of Tessa’s baby?

  Who doesn’t have an alibi for Thursday after the party?

  “I’d like to visit the crime scene as well. Daylight might give us a whole different feel for the area.” Morgan shivered as she remembered being in the woods in the dark, seeing Tessa’s body in the harsh beam of the flashlight, the girl covered in blood.

  And the word written across her forehead:

  SORRY.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The afternoon sun warmed Lance’s back as he and Morgan walked toward his Jeep.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Lance asked. “I could drop this list off to my mom, and then meet you later.”

  He’d given Sharp a hard time, but his boss was right. His mother might be thrilled to be able to help. She had long days and nothing to fill them. But could she handle the facts of the murder case? All Lance had brought was a list of names and addresses—no photos or details of the crime. Still, his mom was fragile. Who knew what would upset her?

  Lance couldn’t deny that he was embarrassed for Morgan to meet her. He could sense a no-turning-back sharing moment on the horizon. But Morgan was a friend, not a date, and she was the most understanding, giving woman he’d ever known. She didn’t judge people. She’d taken a former drug addict into her home and made her part of her family. She took care of her cantankerous grandfather. She understood what it meant to care for the people she loved without qualifications. Lance had learned the hard way that not everyone was willing to make sacrifices.

  “That’s silly. After all the things you do to help my grandfather? Of course I don’t mind,” Morgan said as she got into the passenger seat. “I’m happy to meet your mom.”

  Lance slid behind the wheel. “I’d better give you some background first. Remember when I told you about my dad disappearing?”

  “Yes.” Her seatbelt clicked into place.

  He pulled away from the curb. It was easier to talk about his mom if his eyes were on the road. He didn’t want to see the shock and pity on Morgan’s face as she pictured his childhood.

  Before he could change his mind, Lance dove into his story headfirst. “About a year after he was gone, my mom started showing signs of anxiety and depression. It probably began earlier, but I was just a kid. I didn’t notice until it started to affect my life. At first, the symptoms were more quirky than alarming. Mild OCD, depression, that sort of thing. I figured she was just sad. Hell, I was sad too. I missed my dad, and with the way she was retreating from life, it felt as if I was losing her too.”

  Morgan didn’t comment, but he could sense her scrutiny.

  He continued, “Within the next couple of years, Mom went out less and less. By the time I was thirteen or fourteen, she was leaving the house maybe once a week. If she hadn’t had to feed me, she probably would have willingly crawled in a hole and starved. She couldn’t work. Those trips to the grocery store got farther and farther apart.”

  Memories flooded him. He’d worried about her committing suicide and leaving him alone.

  “Didn’t she have friends?” Morgan asked, her voice heavy with empathy, not pity.

  Lance stopped at the corner, then turned left onto Main St
reet. “Her symptoms took years to fully develop. It was a gradual progression, starting with slowly cutting herself off from her friends. By the time she was sick enough for other people to notice, she’d already alienated everyone in her social circle. She didn’t have any real family except me. The only person who persisted was Sharp.”

  “He seems like he really cares about you.”

  Lance took Main to the edge of town and turned onto a rural highway. The miles rolled by. Houses gave way to fields and forests. “He was still a detective then, and even though my dad’s case had long since been set aside, he kept tabs on us. As you can see, we didn’t live in town. It was a damned long bike ride to get anywhere.

  “Sharp was the guy who drove me to hockey practice. He taught me how to drive. He forced my mom to see a psychiatrist. There were plenty of nights I stayed at Sharp’s place because I needed a break from my mom’s anxiety.”

  Once open wounds, Lance’s memories were now needle pricks of humiliation. Sharp checking their fridge and finding it empty. Lance’s mother, dirty and wild-eyed, counting and arranging empty bottles, boxes of unworn shoes, and stacks of magazines. Sharp taking Lance out for a burger and letting him use his guest room to give him a respite from the stress of his mother’s mental illness. The day he’d gotten his driver’s license at the age of sixteen, Lance had become his mother’s caretaker.

  Lance pulled onto the shoulder in front of a roadside farm stand. “I’ll be right back. Do you want anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Lance grabbed a fresh apple pie, his mom’s favorite treat, and returned to the Jeep. Morgan took the white box and held it on her lap.

  “I had no idea,” Morgan said after he pulled back out onto the road. “I often wondered why you stayed in Scarlet Falls when there weren’t any openings for a detective. You could have applied to another police force years ago and gotten your promotion.”