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

  “Keep it for now, I guess.” Morgan paused, a picture of the crime scene dangled from her hand. “I’ll decide when I hear from Bryce.”

  “No word from the DA yet?”

  “No.” Morgan scratched at the edge of her bandage. “I was hoping he would make an official announcement before Nick gets discharged from the hospital. I don’t want any more incidents with the neighbors.”

  “Do you expect any?”

  “Who knows? I have no idea why it is taking so long to file charges against Emerson. Without a formal arrest and press release, people will still think Nick is guilty.”

  Her phone rang, and she read the display. “It’s Bryce.”

  She took the call. A confused line formed over the bridge of her nose as she listened. Lance could hear Bryce’s voice but couldn’t make out the words.

  “All right. Thanks for calling, Bryce.” She set the phone down, her face pale. “The DNA results came in.”

  “And?” Sharp said from the doorway.

  “They’re inconclusive.” She crossed her arms. “Normally, we expect the probability of paternity to be either 99%, which means you’ve accurately identified the biological father of a child, or 0%, which would mean Jacob is definitely not a paternal match, but Tessa’s baby was 26% match with Jacob Emerson.”

  Lance leaned on the wall as the truth hit him. “Because Jacob and the baby were half-siblings. Phillip was the father.”

  “It’s disturbing on so many levels,” Morgan said, reaching down to stroke the dog’s head. The dog leaned on her shins.

  “Like father, like son,” Sharp said. “Considering what his father did, it’s no shock that Jacob has no respect for women.”

  “Yes.” Morgan shivered. “These families knew each other . . . were friends. They spent time together. Tessa even spent the night a few times when her grandfather had a heart attack several years ago. She was about twelve when Phillip started to molest her.”

  Sharp rapped a knuckle on the wall. “I’d like to shoot him myself.”

  Morgan continued. “The police conducted a thorough search of the Emerson house. In the back of Phillip’s office closet, they found a box that contained photos of Tessa and what the police believe to be a lock of her hair. Bryce said the photos went back six years, to when Tessa’s parents died and she came to live with her grandparents. Phillip has been charged with Tessa’s rape and murder. Bryce says they’ll make a public statement later today. So Nick is in the clear.”

  “The fallout should prove to be interesting for the mayor’s reelection campaign,” Sharp added. “But then, you reap what you sow.”

  “The DA’s office and the police chief are scrambling for a spin on this,” Morgan said. “My guess is that the mayor will distance himself from both of them. But I doubt he has enough time before the election to make up for this disaster.”

  “I thought he might fire Horner and let him take all the blame,” Sharp said.

  Lance shrugged. “That still might happen. We’ll just have to wait and see. What is the DA going to do with Jacob?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think he can do anything to Jacob. Without a victim to testify, the case is dead in the water. But I have more news,” Morgan said. “I spoke to the sheriff this morning. They were able to track the deposit that hit Menendez’s wife’s bank account. You’ll never guess who arranged for the money transfer.”

  “Tessa’s grandfather?” Lance guessed.

  Morgan shook her head. “Her grandmother. When confronted, she also admitted to nailing that cow heart to my door. The sheriff’s department arrested her this morning.”

  “Did anyone ever find out what Dean Voss confessed to doing?” Lance asked.

  “Yes,” Morgan said. “A member of Dean’s old unit called Mrs. Voss to offer his condolences. He said Dean had accidentally shot and killed a young Iraqi girl. He couldn’t give her any more details than that. The incident was part of a classified mission and they aren’t allowed to talk about it.”

  “Poor Voss.” Sharp shook his head.

  “My guess is that he saw Tessa’s murder and it severed any remaining thread of sanity he was holding onto. Maybe he felt guilty for not being able to stop Emerson.” Morgan put the last photo in the box and closed the lid. She looked around the office. “I suppose we can box all this up and put it in storage now.”

  “I hope Nick can move on from this,” Sharp said.

  “Physically he’s going to be fine, thank goodness, but his emotional recovery will be more difficult.” Morgan shifted the box to the floor. “I talked to Bud this morning. He’s putting the house up for sale. He and Nick are going to move in with Bud’s sister in Manhattan for a while. He thinks the city might be a totally fresh start for them.”

  “That might be the best thing for Nick,” Lance said. “I have some news too. Vanessa Lewis called me earlier this morning. Jamie is out of the hospital and recovering at home from pneumonia. They have an appointment scheduled with a new psychiatrist, but the specialist they saw at the hospital thinks Jamie’s bipolar diagnosis was bullshit. Fake Kevin was already getting handsy with her and telling her that no one would believe her because she was crazy. So Jamie was freaking out. She stayed out of his way the best she could, but when her mom announced they were getting married, Jamie knew that when Fake Kevin moved in, the abuse would get serious. So she left.”

  “Fake Kevin has to deal with federal charges, plus state charges in Florida and New York,” Sharp said. “He’s going away for a long time.”

  “Good,” Lance continued. “It seems Kevin targeted Vanessa from an online support group for parents of teens with learning disabilities.”

  “Ugh. I hope he rots in prison.” Sharp turned for the hallway. “Morgan, let me know if you need help clearing out your office or ordering furniture.”

  Lance turned his head toward the empty doorway. “Did I hear him right?”

  “You did,” Sharp called from the hall.

  Morgan blushed. “Sharp made me an offer. He thinks adding a lawyer to the team will be a benefit.”

  “Plus, she’s damned good at this,” Sharp shouted from the kitchen. “And she classes up the place. Makes us look legitimate.”

  Morgan got up and closed the door. “Working together isn’t a problem, is it?” She walked closer.

  “No, of course not.” Lance didn’t move as she stopped right in front of him.

  How did he feel about it, really?

  Poleaxed.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

  “It’s a good fit for now. When the girls were born, John was away. I worked a lot. I didn’t realize how insane our life was. But after being home with them for the last two years, I don’t want to give up all my time with them. Except for the occasional crazy case, I can set my own hours. I hear your boss is pretty flexible.”

  “He is,” Sharp shouted through the door.

  She reached up and placed a hand on Lance’s chest. “Is it OK with you? I don’t know where we stand.”

  Lance’s heart did a touchdown dance. “It’s fine with me. More than fine.” Geez. He sounded like a blubbering idiot.

  “Good. I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date or something.”

  Yes. Yes. Yes!

  For crying out loud, be cool.

  He cleared his throat. “I’d like that.” But he shouldn’t be so selfish. She’d only met his mom once, on a good day. Morgan had no idea what she was getting herself into. Being involved with him could be complicated.

  “Good. I hope the boss is OK with fraternization in business.” A smile curled her mouth.

  He wanted to taste it.

  “He encourages it.” Sharp’s voice came through the door.

  “Go away, Sharp.” Lance put a hand on her waist and tugged her closer. “So where do we start?”

  “Beats me.” She leaned into him. “I haven’t dated in more than a decade.”

  “How about lunch?”

&n
bsp; “Lunch would be nice.”

  “Just kiss her already,” Sharp yelled.

  Lance bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was unhurried, her mouth soft and warm. She sighed, a sound of utter contentment, and leaned into him. The softness of her body nestled into the hardness of his. Though the kiss remained sweet, he tasted the promise of much more on her lips.

  He lifted his head. “We make a pretty good team.”

  “We do.” She smiled. Looping her arm around his neck, she pulled him down for another, not-so-tame kiss that left them both breathless.

  Who knew what would happen tomorrow? He and Morgan had enough combined baggage to sink an ocean liner, and she had no idea of the chaos his mother brought to his life.

  But she fit against him in a way that made him think well beyond lunch. Today he was going to live in the moment. He’d waited too long for this simple kiss.

  But it had been worth every second.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, credit goes to my agent Jill Marsal, and to the entire team at Montlake Romance, especially my managing editor Anh Schluep, developmental editor Charlotte Herscher, and author herder/tech goddess Jessica Poore.

  Special thanks to Leanne Sparks for her patience and help with some of the procedural elements of this story. She saved me weeks of research.

  About the Author

  Photo © 2016 Jared Gruenwald

  Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh is a fully recovered banker. A lifelong lover of books, she started writing as a way to preserve her sanity when her youngest child entered first grade. During the next few years, she joined Romance Writers of America, learned a few things about writing a novel, and decided the process was way more fun than analyzing financial statements. Melinda’s debut novel, She Can Run, was nominated for Best First Novel by the International Thriller Writers. She’s also earned three Daphne du Maurier Award nominations and a Golden Leaf Award. Her other novels include She Can Tell, She Can Scream, She Can Hide, She Can Kill, Midnight Exposure, Midnight Sacrifice, Midnight Betrayal, Midnight Obsession, Hour of Need, Minutes to Kill, and Seconds to Live. She holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate; teaches women’s self-defense; and lives in a messy house with her husband, two teenagers, a couple of dogs, and two rescue cats.