Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Page 2

  Chapter Eighteen The next morning Morgan stepped into the storage room at Sharp Investigations. Lance and Sharp were in the process of clearing the room out for her use. The closet door was open and stacked with boxes. The long table in the center of the room still held a few cartons. “How is Sophie’s cold?” Lance shifted a box. He wore what she’d come to consider his private investigator uniform: cargo pants, a snug tee, and a short-sleeved shirt worn unbuttoned, likely added to conceal the weapon behind his right hip. “Much better.” Morgan set a takeout tray loaded with three coffees and a Dunkin’ Donuts box on the table. “But I suspect Ava has caught it. No doubt Mia will be next.” “You brought donuts?” Lance grinned. “Also a couple of croissants and muffins. I didn’t know what you and Sharp liked.” Morgan took the lid off her coffee and inhaled. She loved summer, and this morning’s autumn chill had cut right through her. In her opinion, pumpkin coffee and her suede boots were the o

  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 love

  Chapter Twenty Jail, day 3 Nick hunched over his breakfast tray. Although his stomach pinched with hunger, he waited for the older inmates to grab their trays. Like high school, much was inferred through your choice of where to sit for a meal. At first, he’d been afraid that every inmate was forced to choose a gang, but it seemed that only a rough third of the population of D-pod were actually gang members. The Man’s information wasn’t exactly correct. If tattoos were accurate, the Aryan Brotherhood, the Bloods, and the Mexican Mafia were all represented, but they gave each other space, as if some sort of wary truce had been achieved. Since surveillance cameras and guards watched 24/7, maybe they’d all agreed that attacking each other here was pointless. The other forty-odd inmates had their own smaller social groups. A small gathering read the Bible and prayed before breakfast. There was a study group. Nick hadn’t expected that. And one popular, geeky guy gave out free legal advice, w

  Chapter Twenty-One He lifted his binoculars and watched the three girls standing at the edge of Scarlet Lake. He guessed the girls were about sixteen. The sun reflected off the water like a mirror. One girl handed something to her friend. A joint? He adjusted the focus of his binoculars to zoom in on the girl’s face. Yep. They were passing a joint around. He shifted his aim lower. Tight yoga pants cupped tighter asses. He licked his lips. A hand slid down to his crotch. He rubbed himself through the fabric of his pants before giving in to the urge and lowering his zipper. But it wasn’t enough. Frustrated, he zipped up. There was no doubt about it. He needed to replace Tessa. He’d thought coming back to the place where she’d died would help with his self-control by reminding him that all actions had consequences. And that he absolutely had to stay out of trouble until this whole mess blew over. But he hadn’t counted on those girls and their skintight pants. He’d wanted to be alone at th

  Chapter Twenty-Two In the passenger seat of the Jeep, Morgan blinked the tears from her eyes. Her grief was ramping up this week. Lance was still holding her hand. The gesture was simultaneously comforting and terrifying, and she fought both the desire to snatch her hand away and crawl into his lap. She shouldn’t be surprised that she wanted some comfort. She’d thrown away her job. Her neighbors hated her. After two years in a holding pattern, she’d turned her entire professional life into a train wreck in the course of a single week. And Lance seemed to want to be there for her. In high school, he’d kept his emotional distance, and she hadn’t pressed him for a deeper relationship. They’d been young, and she’d had her own family issues. But the adult Lance was harder to resist. The more time she spent with him, the more he opened up to her. The more she liked him. He put his mother’s welfare ahead of his own desires. He made real sacrifices to care for her, and he did it freely and wit

  Chapter Twenty-Three Lance drove toward the Barone place. He still didn’t like taking Morgan there, but he was going to have to put a leash on his inner guard dog. She’d been a prosecutor for six years. She knew her business, and the Barones wouldn’t be the first hostile witnesses she’d interviewed. “What do we have in background information on the Barones?” he asked. Morgan took a file from her giant bag, flipped through some pages, and began to read. “I’ll summarize. No one at the Barone house has a criminal record. Robby, or Robert William Barone, is the second of six kids. He turned sixteen four months ago. His license was issued on his birthday. He has one older sister and four younger ones. The oldest is eighteen. The youngest is eight.” “Six kids in ten years?” “My kids are two years apart,” Morgan said. “But you don’t have six of them,” Lance pointed out. “We talked about having another.” “Did you?” Why was he surprised? She was only thirty-three, and she clearly enjoyed her ki

  Chapter Twenty-Four As Lance drove away from the Barone farm, Morgan set down her phone. It was four p.m. Where had the day gone? They’d made so little progress. She needed to regroup, to go back to the beginning and look at the crime anew. “Let’s visit the crime scene before it gets dark,” she said. “Do you have a camera?” “In the console.” Lance lifted his arm. Morgan retrieved the camera. Though the police had already photographed the scene, they were viewing the case from an entirely different angle. When she’d worked on homicide cases for the Albany County DA, she’d always visited the crime scenes to make sure she had an in-person perspective. Photos and diagrams weren’t enough to visualize how the crime played out. She’d caught more than one criminal in a lie because he’d gotten slight details wrong. Lance pulled onto the road and made the next left. Morgan reviewed her notes on the crime scene during the drive out to the lake. Lance turned down the same dirt lane they’d used the

  Chapter Twenty-Five Lance’s hand automatically went to the Glock at his hip. The sound had come from deeper in the woods. “Let’s go back to the Jeep.” He steered Morgan down the path toward the clearing, keeping his body between her and the origin of the noise. He should have listened to his instincts when they’d first gotten out of the car. But he’d thought they were both spooked by the scene itself. Oh hell, they still could be. Morgan pointed toward the impromptu shrine. “Looks like plenty of other people have been here. It’s probably just someone who wants to pay his respects. Or satisfy his curiosity.” “I’m sure you’re right,” Lance said. Was their visitor Jamie Lewis? She’d been at the party, and no one seemed to know how she’d gotten there. Could she be hiding out here in the woods? “Should we call the police?” Morgan asked as they stepped back into the clearing. Out of the underbrush, they turned and headed for the grass and dirt tract where they’d left the Jeep. “And say what?

  Chapter Twenty-Six Morgan got out of the Jeep as soon as Lance parked behind her minivan in front of Sharp Investigations. Her scraped leg ached as she detoured to her van and removed a gym bag from the cargo area. The sun had set, and dusk settled over the quiet street. They went up the walk and climbed the steps of the dark duplex. Lance unlocked the front door. “I didn’t know you went to a gym.” “Two months ago, I bought a two-week trial membership. I went twice. The gym bag has been sitting in there since.” Morgan followed him into the office. “Sharp must be out.” Lance closed and locked the door
behind them. “You obviously work out regularly.” She scanned his muscles on top of muscles. He shrugged. “My physical therapy regimen is intensive.” “It’s helped you recover?” “Yes. It’s also good for releasing endorphins and purging stress.” “That was my intention with the trial membership.” She had plenty of excuses about the kids taking up all her time, but in reality, she just hadn’t b

  Chapter Twenty-Seven “How was your Sunday?” Lance asked Morgan as he walked into the war room. By mutual agreement, Lance, Sharp, and Morgan had all used the previous day to catch up on personal commitments, read files, and let Lance’s mother get a jump on the research. Lance had taken his mom to therapy. He’d mowed her lawn, done her shopping, gone through her bills, and filled her medication organizer for the week. “Quiet. I took the girls to the park and finished reading through the police interviews.” Standing behind the table, she set down her bag and a stainless-steel travel mug and draped her jacket across the back of her chair. Easing into the chair, she crossed her legs, the cuff of her navy slacks rising enough to show her shiny black heels. Dark smudges under her eyes told him she’d spent the daylight hours with her children and worked well into the night. “What did you do yesterday?” “The same.” After he’d finished with his mom, Lance had read through files until his eyebal

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Lance blinked hard, but it didn’t change the sight. The farm looked deserted. Morgan lowered her window. She tilted her head to the opening. “It’s too quiet.” He turned past the mailbox into the driveway. There were no vehicles parked near the house. The chicken enclosure and pigpen were empty. No cows grazed in the pasture. The stock trailer and school bus that had been parked alongside the barn were gone. They got out of the car. Lance led the way to the front door. Who knew what kind of surprises Dwayne Barone, with all of his WSA paranoia, would leave behind? Standing to the side of the doorway, he tucked Morgan behind him and knocked on the door. Nothing but eerie silence greeted them. Lance walked to the window and peered inside. “The furniture is still here, but they took everything else.” Wire hung from holes in the wall where the TV and other electronic devices had been installed. Lance went back down the steps. Backing away from the house, he scanned the

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Morgan’s heart dropped into her stomach as the stairway crumbled in front of her, and Lance plunged to the ground in a cloud of smoke and dust. “Lance!” She rushed forward. The structure had broken apart. Lance landed in the middle of the rubble. The small cloud of smoke dissipated in a few seconds in the breeze. Had Voss set a small explosion as a booby trap? Morgan climbed over a pile of wood. He was on his back with several boards piled on top of him. He wasn’t moving. Her heart stuttered. He had to be all right. He just had to be. Fear turned her hands clammy and her belly cold as she crouched next to him. “Can you hear me?” He stirred. “Yes.” Thank God. Morgan exhaled. Her head swam with relief. She put a hand on the ground to steady herself. “Don’t move.” She lifted a board off his torso. “Does anything hurt?” “I’m all right.” He tried to slide out from under two joined steps pinning him across the thighs. “You shouldn’t be moving!” She squatted and picked up

  Chapter Thirty Lance shifted into drive. He locked the doors. The thought of Voss running loose made Lance want to put Morgan on a plane to Australia. “No!” Morgan turned to stare at him. “How did Voss escape?” “He slipped out of his restraints, knocked out an orderly, and stole his uniform and ID. The man might be insane, but he’s very intelligent.” Lance drove onto the road. “Did he escape before or after his booby trap went off?” Morgan asked. “Just after. He must have set it before he shot at us at the lake.” “Where do you think Voss will go?” “Since he set his own place to self-destruct, I’d bet either to his wife or to hide in the woods. In case he picks his wife, we’d better catch up with Mrs. Voss before he does.” Mrs. Voss wasn’t at home, nor was she at the bank branch where she worked as the assistant manager. The branch manager told them she’d just left. Lance saw no sign of Voss at either location. If everyone was lucky, he’d head for the wilderness to hole up. “Is she afra

  Chapter Thirty-One Jail, day 5 Nick retrieved an evening chow tray from the cart. As he turned, Shorty gestured to him. Nick walked over, and Shorty motioned to the empty spot on the bench next to him. “You can eat here if you want.” No one had bothered him much since his beating two days ago. Nick had added staying far away from cell doorways to his growing list of habits. He’d also spotted other blind spots and avoided them as well. Nick sat down, hoping no one would attack him in full view of the surveillance cameras. “I’m not that hungry. You want an extra biscuit?” Shorty asked. Nick hesitated. Trying to analyze the subtext was giving him a headache. If he took the biscuit, did he owe Shorty something in return? If he didn’t take the offer, would Shorty be offended? If there was one thing he’d learned since he’d arrived here, it was that jail operated on a system of respect. The worst thing a man could do was show disrespect to another. Every man had a place on the hierarchy, a sp

  Chapter Thirty-Two Morgan sailed out of the municipal building, her step brisk, her mind whirling. “I can’t wait to tell Nick tomorrow. We finally have a break in his case. I’ll stop by Bud’s house and give him the good news tonight. He needs some encouragement.” Nick’s dad needed hope, and she couldn’t wait to give it to him. “I wouldn’t build his hopes up too much.” Lance fell into step beside her on the sidewalk. Since they’d gotten word of Voss’s escape, Lance hadn’t stopped scanning their surroundings. “This won’t mean much until the DNA test comes back.” At six thirty in the evening, the visitors’ lot was mostly empty. “It’ll mean one of the prosecution’s key witnesses lied, and the video with Nick fighting Jacob just took on a whole new meaning. Nick’s account looks a lot more truthful than Jacob’s now. Bryce might not want to admit it, but between those photos and Voss’s camp near the murder site, I can poke a hundred holes in his case against Nick.” At the end of the walk, Mor

  Chapter Thirty-Three Lance woke to a dark house. He’d worried about Nick in the ICU, crazy Dean Voss on the loose, and Morgan falling apart in his arms. Especially that last part. His hand brushed the empty, cold pillow next to him. It was a freaking miracle he’d resisted taking her to bed. Beyond the physical desire, she was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, a beauty that went soul deep and an irresistible combination of strength and fragility. He didn’t know how she handled the amount of stress and responsibility on her shoulders. Looking after just his mother overwhelmed him at times. His joints felt like rusty hinges after a night of very little sleep. All he wanted was a cup of strong coffee and a hot shower. There was no way in hell that Sharp’s green tea would cut through Lance’s brain fog. But as he got out of bed, he sensed the place was empty. He pulled on a pair of shorts and went to the guest bedroom. The door was ajar. He peered inside. Morgan was gone. Damn it. Ther

  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 bi

  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 ou

  Chapter Thirty-Six Morgan’s heart stuttered as she recognized Dean Voss. His face was thin, his eyes feral. She kept both of her hands on the table in front of her. Voss jerked the gun at Lance. “Put your hands on your head. Interlace your fingers.” He shifted his gaze to Morgan for a second. “You too.” “Dean, they were just talking to me,” his wife said. “No.” Voss shook his head. “They want to take you away. They want to hurt you. The only way you’ll be safe is if you come with me.” “I won’t go,” she said. “You need me. You need help.” “The only kind of help I need is the kind that’ll make me disappear. They want me to pay for what I did.” Voss’s voice softened. “I have to pay.” He lifted his chin. There was too much white around his eyes. They blazed with a crazy light. “Dean. No one wants to hurt you. They want to help.” “No,” he shouted. His grip on the rifle tightened until his knuckles were as white as his eyes. “That’s just what they told you to make you cooperate.” Dean Voss w

  Chapter Thirty-Seven Lance showered and dressed in clean clothes before heading to the office to give Sharp all the details on Voss’s self-destruction. Today’s incident was another unwelcome reminder of his own shooting last fall. Sharp was at his desk typing on his laptop when Lance walked in. Lance dropped into a chair, his foot tapping as he gave his boss a complete rundown of the incident at Voss’s house. Sharp closed his laptop. “Was the shooting justified?” Lance replayed those few pivotal seconds in his mind. “Voss had put down his rifle in the kitchen. He had Morgan’s weapon on him, but his hands were empty. He was running away. I was chasing him. He turned at the last second and the rookie shot him.” Sharp’s jaw tightened. “The officer could have shot you.” “But he didn’t. His aim was true, and I won’t be the one to judge him.” Lance tried to stop his leg from bouncing, but the adrenaline rush at the Voss house had left him twitchy. “I don’t know what the rookie saw from his a