Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2) Read online

  “Can I have it now?”

  “You can eat it as soon as I pay for it.” Morgan walked faster.

  “OK.” Sophie perked up. Her purple sneakers swung back and forth as she began to sing the theme to Toy Story. An older woman smiled as they passed her cart.

  Morgan turned down an aisle and collided with a male body. Knocked off balance, she steadied herself with her hand on the cart.

  “I’m so sorry.” She stepped back and looked up. All the breath left her lungs and fear sent a bolt of adrenaline into her bloodstream.

  Harold Burns stared at her, his eyes gleaming with recognition. The basket that dangled from his hand held a single can of tuna fish. “You’d better watch where you’re going.”

  Morgan continued to move away, pulling the cart sideways and trying to step between Sophie and Burns. But the cart nosed into a display of canned peaches. The stacks of cans toppled and rolled across the tile.

  Burns didn’t move. He just stared at her, his eyes full of malice—and satisfaction.

  Had he been following her?

  Cans rolled under the cart. Burns’s gaze drifted slowly from Morgan to her daughter. A silent alarm rang out in Morgan’s head.

  Get Sophie away from him!

  Next to her, Sophie said, “Mommy?” Her voice was soft and small and scared as she picked up on Morgan’s reaction to Burns.

  Morgan glanced up and down the aisle. Thirty feet away, the older woman compared prices of Parmesan cheese. Next to her, a young man piled boxes of pasta into a basket on his arm.

  They were in a grocery store. In full view of two other shoppers and multiple surveillance cameras, Burns couldn’t hurt Sophie.

  She’s safe. Morgan breathed in an attempt to calm her screaming pulse. But her body responded to Burns’s proximity to her child with immediate protest. If she’d been alone, her response would have been completely different, possibly even rational. But her brain simply couldn’t override her primitive maternal instinct, the same internal wiring that helped cavewomen keep their offspring safe from predators and ensured the survival of the human race.

  There was no arguing with pure and primal instinct.

  This violent sexual predator could not be this close to her daughter. The very act of him turning his gaze upon her child was a clear and direct threat.

  Morgan grabbed Sophie, pulled her from the cart, and backed toward the exit.

  “Mommy, my bananas,” Sophie cried, reaching backward as Morgan hurried out of the store. She rushed across the parking lot.

  Sophie sobbed quietly as Morgan broke into a jog, opening the side door of the van as she ran toward it. She put Sophie inside, climbed in the side door with her, then closed it behind them. Not even the click of the door locks could temper her panic.

  “Get in your seat,” Morgan ordered, glancing over her shoulder and dropping her tote bag on the floor.

  Harold Burns stood on the pavement just outside the grocery store door, his eyes locked on Morgan’s van.

  “Mommy?” Sophie climbed into her seat obediently, her voice high with fear, her face streaked with tears.

  “It’s OK, sweetie.” Couched in the small confines of the vehicle, Morgan fastened the safety seat harness and climbed over the console into the driver’s seat.

  But Sophie clearly knew that it wasn’t OK. She sniffed, leaning her face on the headrest and crying quietly.

  Morgan started the engine and drove out of the lot toward Sharp Investigations. She was not leading Burns to her home. With an eye on the rearview mirror, Morgan pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called Lance. “Are you still at the office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you meet me outside in a few minutes? I’m on my way there. Sophie is with me.”

  “Morgan, what’s wrong?”

  “Sophie and I went to the grocery store.” Morgan stopped at a red light, her eyes darting between the windshield and all her mirrors. A car pulled up behind her minivan. She exhaled when she saw an older gentleman at the wheel. “Harold Burns was there.”

  Lance swore. “Where are you?”

  “Four blocks away. I’m calling Stella next.” She punched “End,” then called her sister, giving her a brief explanation. “Gianna needs to be picked up at dialysis.”

  “OK,” Stella said. “I’ll get her and meet you at Sharp Investigations.”

  Morgan drove, checking her mirrors, looking for a red pickup truck.

  What was Burns’s game? And where had he gone?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lance paced the sidewalk.

  Where is she?

  The thought of Burns intimidating Morgan and her little girl stirred a giant pot of rage in Lance’s chest. He’d like nothing better than to find Burns and give him back a big dose of his own medicine.

  When he’d been a cop, Lance had hated the revolving-door nature of the system. There were people who could be rehabilitated, but there were those who were just bad. Born bad. Made bad. Whatever. It hardly mattered after the fact. Violent men like Burns were dangerous. Occasionally, like now, Lance was appalled at the violence of his own response to them.

  But this was personal.

  This was Morgan. And Sophie!

  Damn it.

  Men like Burns shouldn’t be allowed to share air with an innocent child.

  The heat of fury had climbed into Lance’s throat by the time Morgan parked at the curb in front of the office. Her face was as white as a fresh sheet of copy paper. She got out of the driver’s seat and opened the sliding side door. Sophie was still crying. Her big blue eyes were scared.

  As much as the sight made Lance want to beat Burns senseless, he swallowed and shoved his anger back into its box.

  Sophie needed calm.

  She needed to feel safe.

  God. How do parents do this?

  Morgan’s hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t get the harness unfastened.

  Lance stepped in. “Let me.”

  “Hey, Soph.” Lance unfastened her harness, lifted her from the seat, and held her closely. “Everything is OK.”

  She seemed to forget that she didn’t trust him. Her arms went around his neck in a panicked chokehold and her spindly legs wrapped around his waist. She clung to him with a strength that broke his heart.

  He made her feel safe.

  Morgan grabbed her tote bag from the van, and Lance herded her up the walk and into the office. Holding Sophie in one arm, he locked the door and engaged the alarm. “Are you all right?”

  Morgan nodded. But her hands were still trembling and her face had gone from pale to gray.

  Sharp emerged from his office, his face grim.

  At the clatter of dog nails, Sophie lifted her head from Lance’s shoulder. “Puppy.”

  Morgan smoothed her hair and worked to collect herself. “Sophie, this is Mr. Sharp and his dog, Rocket.”

  Rocket leaned on Morgan’s leg and whined.

  Ignoring Sharp completely, Sophie leaned over and reached for the dog. Her tears shut off like a closed tap. “Put me down.”

  Even Lance couldn’t compete with a dog.

  Lance cautiously set her on the floor, watching the dog for a reaction. But the stub of Rocket’s docked tail wagged. She sniffed then licked the child’s hand. Sophie giggled.

  “Sit,” Morgan said.

  The dog planted her butt on the floor and offered Sophie a paw.

  Morgan crouched next to Sophie. The dog showed no sign of the timidity she exhibited with strange adults.

  “Looks like Rocket likes kids.” Sharp nodded.

  Sophie turned her huge, teary blue eyes on Sharp. “Can I play with her?”

  “You certainly can. Let’s go get her ball.” Sharp extended a hand toward Sophie.

  “I’m hungwy.” Sophie was usually distrustful of strangers, or at least she’d always been distrustful of Lance, but she took Sharp’s hand without hesitation.

  Lance made a note to talk to her about stranger
s with puppies.

  “Let’s see if we can find you something to eat,” Sharp said.

  “We left my banana at the store.” The sniff in Sophie’s breath tugged at Lance’s heart all over again.

  “You know what?” Sharp led the little girl down the hall. “Rocket loves bananas too. I have some in the kitchen.”

  As soon as Sophie and Sharp disappeared into the kitchen, Morgan lost it. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Covering her mouth, she raced for the bathroom. Lance waited outside, feeling useless. At least he’d been able to hold and comfort Sophie.

  When she emerged, her face had been scrubbed and she smelled of mouthwash.

  “Do you want some water?”

  Morgan shook her head. “Not yet.” She was still shaking. “I’m sorry. Tossing our cookies after a stressful situation is a family thing.”

  With a glance at the kitchen door, Lance led her into her office. He’d finally made progress with Sophie. He didn’t want the sight of him hugging her mother to set the kid off again.

  Once inside the room, he pulled her to his chest and hugged her hard. She pressed her face to his body.

  “He wouldn’t have pulled that stunt if you were with me.” Morgan was not the damsel-in-distress type, but she wasn’t stupid either. “He must have followed me.”

  “Well, it won’t happen again,” Lance said. He was sticking closer to her than paint on a wall.

  “I need to go home for my gun.” Morgan had a concealed carry permit. Feeling that small children and guns didn’t mix, she rarely carried it. “For a completely nonviolent incident, that was utterly terrifying. What if he’d done something, and I wasn’t able to protect Sophie?”

  Lance rubbed her shoulder. “He didn’t and Sophie is fine. It serves no purpose to torture yourself with every possible outcome that didn’t happen.”

  Morgan nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “I need to call home and warn Grandpa. What if Burns knows where I live?”

  “Your house address is unlisted, right?” Lance asked.

  Morgan sniffed. “Yes. But we both know how easy it is to get names and addresses.”

  Tax records, deeds, and other public records weren’t hard to find. Visibility was the downside to all the publicity her last case had garnered.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “I’ll get it.” Lance went out into the hall and opened the door. Stella pushed past him. “Where’s Morgan?”

  “In her office.” Lance gestured toward the open door. “She’s fine. So is Sophie.”

  Stella and Morgan greeted each other with a tight, sisterly hug.

  “Where’s Gianna?” Morgan asked, looking over her sister’s shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  “No. She’s fine. I called her to make sure. Brody went to get her. He’s going to take her home and stay there.” She leaned back, holding Morgan by the arms and assessing her. “I wanted to get right over here and make sure you were all right. Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m fine.” Morgan broke her sister’s grip, then closed her office door before describing the incident in the grocery store.

  Lance had to work hard to keep his temper in check.

  Stella wrote in a small notebook she took out of her pocket. “He didn’t say anything else?”

  “No.” Morgan already knew where her sister’s question was leading.

  “Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do.” Stella closed her notebook. “He didn’t do or say anything threatening. There are only two grocery stores nearby. He has to shop at one of them. He didn’t do anything illegal.”

  “I know,” Morgan said. “But I want my statement on record.”

  Too many women told themselves they were imagining danger and ended up as victims. If Burns had any ideas about stalking Morgan or her family, it would be vital to have a record of each and every incident.

  “OK.” Stella nodded, pulling out her phone. “I’ll call the store and request a copy of the surveillance tapes.” She went into the hallway to make the call.

  Morgan’s tote bag buzzed from her desk. She fished her cell phone out and read the display. “It’s Sheriff King.” She answered the call, holding the phone a few inches from her ear so Lance could hear. “Yes.”

  “What part of stay away from Harold Burns didn’t you hear?” King yelled.

  Morgan jerked. “Excuse me?”

  Apprehension slid an icy fingertip along the back of Lance’s neck. Something was wrong.

  “I just got off the phone with Harold Burns’s attorney,” the sheriff said. “Burns says you followed him to the grocery store and harassed him.”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” Morgan said.

  The sheriff continued. “He has a photo of you in the store and another of you driving out of the parking lot.”

  “Did he mention that I was with my three-year-old daughter?” Morgan’s voice rose. She breathed, obviously holding back.

  “No. He didn’t,” the sheriff said, his voice turning cautious.

  “Do you really think I’d follow a violent sexual predator when I had my child with me?” Morgan was shifting into full mamma-bear mode. On the bright side, her hands had stopped shaking and color flushed her cheeks.

  After three heartbeats of silence, the sheriff said, “I’ll look into it.”

  “No need.” Morgan’s voice chilled, and her tone shifted into I-don’t-need-your-useless-ass, even if she was too much of a professional and a lady to say it. “The SFPD has already requested the surveillance tapes, and I’m filing a complaint with them as we speak.”

  “Who is the responding officer?” Sheriff King asked.

  “Detective Stella Dane,” Morgan said.

  “Of course,” the sheriff muttered. “Of course you’d call your sister.”

  Morgan ignored the comment. “I’ll have her send you copies of my statement.”

  Lance hoped the store’s videos had recorded the encounter. But really, what would it show? The way Morgan had described the incident, she’d walked around a corner and straight into Burns. The most they could hope for was that she arrived at the store first, which would back up her claim that he followed her. If she was lucky, the cameras had caught him looking for her or acting suspicious in some way.

  But Lance had a feeling luck wasn’t with her today. Every fiber in his being told her that Burns had planned their encounter. And that this was just the beginning of whatever scheme he had in mind.

  “Be very careful, Counselor,” the sheriff warned. “I don’t know what Burns is up to, but he’s a very dangerous man.”

  “Yes. I’m well aware of that.” Morgan’s lips pressed flat.

  “Stay on your toes.” The sheriff hung up.

  Morgan lowered the phone, her hand shaking. “Did you hear all that?”

  “I heard enough.” Lance nodded. “Burns is up to something.”

  “But what?” Morgan shoved a lock of black hair out of her eyes.

  “He’s setting you up.” Lance could feel it in his bones.

  Morgan stared at him, her big blue eyes wide. The fear in them an adult version of her daughter’s earlier response. The implications of Burns’s complaint were sinking in. “But for what?”

  “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

  “Oh, my God. He saw Sophie.” She turned toward the door as if to run to her daughter.

  Lance caught her by the arm. “She’s in the kitchen with Sharp. She’s fine.”

  Morgan nodded. “I know. It’s just—” She stopped and took one deep, controlled breath. “I can handle defending myself. But when something threatens my kids, it’s different. There’s nothing more terrifying.”

  “I know.” Lance was beginning to understand the difference.

  The more time he spent with Morgan’s kids, the more he thought of them as part of his life. He’d always liked kids. But Morgan’s three girls had imprinted on his heart. Their honesty, their inability to bullshit. If they liked you,
they didn’t hold back. Ava and Mia were free with their affection. They’d lost their father and yet accepted him into their lives with no reservations.

  And if they didn’t like you, he thought of Sophie’s resistance to his relationship with Morgan, at least you knew where you stood.

  But even Sophie, or maybe especially Sophie, had wormed herself into his heart. She felt every emotion exponentially. She was a handful, but an honest one. She didn’t really dislike him. The way she’d clung to him for reassurance and safety today told him that. She’d had her mother home with her for two years. Now Morgan was back to work and forming a relationship with a man. Sophie hadn’t yet adjusted to Morgan being out all day. Expecting her to welcome competition for her mother’s attention was unreasonable. But Lance would be patient. Eventually she’d accept him.

  Probably.

  The idea of Burns even standing that close to Sophie shot Lance’s anger into the red zone. But the little girl wasn’t the one he was most worried about.

  “Burns’s victim was an adult woman,” he said. “His record indicates he’s a violent predator, but I didn’t see anything to suggest he’s a pedophile.”

  “That’s not much of a comfort.”

  “No. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near your girls,” Lance said. “But you’ll need to take care too. It’s far more likely you’re the one he’s stalking.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Morgan settled Sophie inside the house with Gianna. Then she stopped in her room and removed her gun from its safe. She changed into a pair of slacks with a belt to accommodate a holster at the back of her hip. Her jacket covered the weapon nicely.

  She went outside. Lance stood by the Jeep talking to Stella and Brody. Leaning on his cane in the driveway, Grandpa was wearing his sidearm.

  An icy shiver slid though Morgan’s belly. All this activity was because of one man, a violent sexual offender who Morgan had made contact with.

  It was her fault Burns had taken an interest in her.

  The former prosecutor in Morgan wanted nothing more than to put Harold Burns under police surveillance until he did something illegal. There was nothing in the man’s manner that indicated he was at all interested in being redeemed. In her opinion, it was only a matter of time until Burns gave in to his proclivities.