Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Page 6

  “I’m allowed fifteen minutes of light skating.” Lance had played hockey in high school, and eighteen months ago, he’d been volunteered to serve as an assistant coach to a bunch of disadvantaged kids through a police outreach program. The shooting had benched him. He missed hockey—and the kids—more than he’d expected.

  His therapist had actually cleared him weeks ago, but he hadn’t set foot on the ice yet. As much as he wanted to play, it wasn’t worth the risk of an injury. One fall could wipe out all his progress. He’d stick with coaching from the sidelines.

  Sharp rolled his eyes. “You know I’m right.”

  He was. Damn it.

  Besides, he could hardly make fun of Sharp’s lifestyle. The man could still run a seven-minute mile and do muscle-ups.

  “All right, but I still wish this was whiskey.” Lance drained his cup of green tea. Three months ago, he would have stopped at a bar on the way home for a couple of shots. Tonight, he’d go home and make an antioxidant protein shake.

  “Get some sleep.” Sharp got up and walked around the desk.

  Lance stood. “A solid eight hours is next on my agenda.”

  Did he know how to party or what?

  But ten months after being shot, he finally thought maybe he could fully recover. That his police career might not be over. That he could get back to coaching and the active lifestyle he missed.

  His phone rang and he read the display.

  Morgan.

  If there was one person who could tempt him away from his bed—or into it—it was Morgan Dane. He was treated to a quick mental vision of her in his bed, all tousled, no trace of her usual perfection, thanks to him.

  He almost rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his imagination. He’d known the Danes since high school. He and Morgan had dated during senior year. They’d liked each other back then with the usual awkward teenage crushes, but when they’d left for college, neither one of them had been devastated. Nothing had prepared him for the bulldozer effect she’d had on him when he’d run into her a few months before. Morgan seemed only interested in being his friend, and he was in no position to have a relationship.

  So be cool.

  He answered the call. “Morgan?”

  “Did I wake you?” Her tone was breathless, which didn’t help.

  At. All.

  Lance stepped into the hall. “No. I was up.”

  A glance at the digital clock reminded him it was nearly one a.m. Why would Morgan call him in the middle of the night? Concern brought his puppy love to heel.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My babysitter, Tessa, didn’t come home tonight. Her grandparents are worried. I’m going to look for her in the usual teenage hangout locations. Would you be willing to ride along with me?”

  “Of course. I’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes.” He ended the call.

  You were going to be cool, remember?

  “I thought you were going to get some sleep?” Sharp stood in the doorway.

  “Morgan needs help.” Lance stopped in his office to remove his Glock from the gun safe in the closet. After the disaster of the Brown case, he wasn’t taking any chances, especially with Morgan’s safety. On that note, he returned to the safe for his backup piece and ankle holster.

  “You have it bad for her. Just ask the woman out already,” Sharp called as Lance walked past his office.

  Lance reached for the doorknob. “Goodnight, Sharp.”

  If only it was that simple. But he had enough responsibility on his plate just managing his mother’s mental illness. After his dad disappeared, his mom developed severe anxiety and agoraphobia. She’d been relatively stable for the past few months, but there were times when taking care of her was a full-time job. And on top of Lance’s issues, Morgan had her own freighter of emotional baggage and three kids.

  Three.

  Anyone who seriously dated Morgan had to consider that a future with her included being a father to her girls. Lance didn’t see how he could possibly do the job right, and he would not half-ass something as important as parenthood. Kids deserved better.

  He lowered the window of his Jeep, hoping the brisk September night was enough to cool his jets. It wasn’t. He turned up the radio and shaved three minutes off his drive to the Danes’ house as Green Day blasted him awake.

  Parking his Jeep next to her minivan, he walked up to the front door but didn’t knock. No reason to wake the sleeping members of the family. He peered through the screen door and called softly, “Morgan?”

  Her grandfather, Art, came out of the kitchen and waved him into the house, Morgan’s French bulldog, Snoozer, at his feet.

  Lance stepped inside just as Morgan hurried down the hall toward him. She was tall and slim, with big blue eyes and legs that went on forever. Her clothes were uncharacteristically tossed on, and her long black hair was down and tumbled in messy waves over her shoulders in much the same way as it had been in his earlier vision.

  Sharp was right. Lance had it bad. But he was an adult, and he’d act like one.

  “Thanks for helping.” Art shook his hand. Then he turned and gave his granddaughter a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe. I love you.”

  She hugged him. “Love you back.”

  Lance opened the door for her, and they went outside. She stuffed her cell phone in her gigantic purse, slung the straps over her shoulder, and walked toward her mom mobile.

  “We’ll take my Jeep. Teenagers like to go off-road.” Lance would take a bullet for Morgan, but he drew the line at riding in her minivan.

  “Good thinking.” Morgan nodded and changed direction.

  They got into his vehicle. He started the engine, and music blasted. He turned the volume to low. “Sorry. Where to?”

  Her lips pursed. “I don’t know. Her grandmother gave me her best friend’s number. The girl didn’t answer her phone. I left a message. I thought we could check some of the usual hangout spots. I was hoping you would know where the kids go these days.”

  “I have some ideas.” Lance had broken up plenty of parties in his time on the police force. “Who’s handling the case?”

  “Carl Ripton came to the house, but I’m not sure what he can do. Tessa is eighteen. She walked out willingly. No crime there.”

  Lance pulled out his phone and dialed Carl’s number. His former coworker gave him the rundown on what the SFPD was doing to find the girl. Lance thanked him and ended the call. “They put out a BOLO alert for her. No sightings of her car yet, and her cell phone GPS isn’t sending out a signal. Unfortunately, she’s a legal adult. Carl said none of the girl’s friends would give him any information.”

  “Teens don’t want to get their friends in trouble,” Morgan said.

  “When was the last time you saw Tessa?” he asked.

  “About a month ago. Gianna insists on being my live-in nanny now.”

  Because one stubborn old man and three children under the age of seven hadn’t been enough responsibility for Morgan, three months ago, she’d taken in Gianna Leone, a very sick young woman with no family. Gianna had been raised by a crack-addicted prostitute. Depressed and following in her mother’s footsteps, she’d overdosed. While on duty, Morgan’s sister Stella had saved the girl with a dose of Narcan, but Gianna had been left with permanent kidney damage. After Stella had befriended her, Gianna had slowly been pulled into the Dane family.

  The Dane house existed in a perpetual, glitter-bombed state of chaos. What was one more monkey in Morgan’s circus?

  “Gianna looks much healthier since she moved in with you,” he said.

  “Yes. She still has to go to dialysis three times a week, but she’s put on some weight and she has more energy. I hope the girls aren’t too much for her to handle when I start work.”

  Lance drove toward the grammar school. “So you got the job?”

  “Yes.” The painful sigh that slipped from her lips made him ache for her.

  “You sound excited.”

  She
turned to the dark window. “I have to do something. I feel like I’ve been stalled out, doing nothing for two years.”

  “Raising your girls and taking care of your grandfather and Gianna is hardly nothing.” How did she juggle it all? Lance could barely handle his mother. “You do more before breakfast than most people do all day.”

  “I don’t know about that. Anyone with little kids is crazy busy in the morning.” She laughed.

  It was a small sound, but he liked hearing it. “Crazy describes your house perfectly.”

  “I happen to like a little insanity in my life. Keeps me on my toes.” Her tone turned serious. “I love raising my girls. I can’t explain why I feel so disconnected.”

  “Morgan, your whole life was upended in the worst way.”

  Yet she still managed to take care of an entire houseful of people.

  She sighed, the breath long and deep and sad.

  “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Sophie wouldn’t put up with anything else.”

  Morgan’s two oldest kids seemed to like Lance, but her youngest looked at him with reserve and suspicion, as if the three-year-old had X-ray vision that exposed what was really in his heart.

  “No kidding.” She smiled at him. “Thanks. And thanks for coming out in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s my pleasure. We’ve known each other a long time, but I finally think I’m seeing the real you.” Lance turned onto the rural road that led out to the lake. “I haven’t seen you dressed that casually since—ever.”

  Even back in high school, Morgan had always managed to look perfect. That cheerleading outfit . . .

  She reached up to smooth her hair.

  He stopped her by taking her hand. “Don’t. It looks good on you, and you don’t have to put up a front for me.”

  She froze and her face went blank.

  So much for playing it cool.

  “We’re friends, right?” He dropped her hand. He had no right to start something he couldn’t finish. If he wanted to keep her in his life, he shouldn’t screw up their friendship.

  Morgan’s phone rang, breaking the tension between them. “It’s Tessa’s friend, Felicity. I hope she knows something.”

  Chapter Five

  Morgan rubbed her hand, still warm from Lance’s touch. It was nice to know she wasn’t dead, but the prick of interest made her uncomfortable, clearly a reaction she wasn’t ready to explore.

  She’d intended to look for Tessa alone, but she hadn’t protested when her grandfather suggested she call Lance. The fact was that she felt much safer with him. But tonight, he was acting . . . different.

  Interested?

  It must be her imagination. Like he’d said. They were friends, and friends helped each other. That was all there was to it. Her discomfort had nothing to do with the way all six feet two inches of him filled out his cargos and T-shirt, the way his blue eyes always seemed to be focused on her, or the fact that she genuinely liked his personality more than his blond buffness.

  But how did she reconcile her attraction to Lance while John was still in her heart?

  The love ballad playing softly on the radio wasn’t helping. She reached forward and turned off the radio to answer the call. “Hi, is this Felicity?”

  “Yes,” the girl whispered.

  “This is Morgan Dane. I called about Tessa.”

  “Tess babysits for you,” the girl said in a soft voice that sounded as if she was trying not to be heard.

  “Yes. She does. I’m looking for her. I know you already told her grandmother you haven’t seen her, but I’m really worried. Is there anything you can tell me that might help me find her?”

  “You have to promise not to tell my parents.”

  “I won’t tell anyone unless I absolutely have to.” Morgan wouldn’t lie. A teenager’s trust was as fragile as a bird’s egg. Once broken, it was impossible to repair.

  Felicity paused, seeming to weigh Morgan’s answer. “There was a party last night.”

  “Was Tessa there?”

  “Yeah,” Felicity admitted.

  “Where was the party?”

  “Out at the lake.”

  “Did you go with Tessa?” Morgan asked.

  “No. She came in her own car, but she was with her boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t know Tessa had a boyfriend.”

  “She was keeping it quiet,” Felicity said. “She said her grandparents wouldn’t like him.”

  “Who is this boy?”

  “Nick. His last name starts with a Z. You know him. Tessa met him at your house.”

  “Nick Zabrowski?” Morgan asked, surprised. Nick had never mentioned he was dating Tessa, and Morgan saw him several times a week.

  “That’s him.”

  “Why wouldn’t Tessa’s grandparents approve of Tessa dating Nick?” Morgan liked Nick very much. He was a hard worker. He graduated from high school two years before and had started his own landscaping company. He was kind as well as ambitious. How many young men would read a little girl a story or take time out of his evenings to play chess with an elderly neighbor?

  “He didn’t go to college so he’s not good enough for them.”

  “How long was Tessa seeing Nick?”

  “About a month,” Felicity said.

  How many times in the past month had Tessa claimed to be babysitting for Morgan when she was actually with Nick?

  “Tell me about the party.”

  “The party sucked. Tessa and Nick had a big fight and broke up. Tessa was still there when I left. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “Tessa wasn’t at school today?” Morgan should have asked the Palmers if they’d called the high school.

  “We had the day off for a teacher in-service day,” Felicity whispered. “I have to go.”

  “Thanks. Let me know if you remember anything else.”

  Felicity ended the call.

  “Felicity says Tessa went to a party at the lake with Nick Zabrowski last night.” Morgan summed up the conversation for Lance.

  “Isn’t that the kid who lives across the street from you?”

  “Yes. I don’t understand why the Palmers wouldn’t like him.” Morgan put her phone back into her tote.

  “Fighting with guardians and lying about a boy isn’t too unusual for an eighteen-year-old.” Lance turned the Jeep around. “She probably found another friend to stay with last night.”

  “I hope.”

  The lake wasn’t far away. Lance drove past the gazebo and picnic areas, then turned off the main road onto a dirt and grass lane. The local teenagers liked to hang out in a spot that wasn’t part of the public area. A footpath connected the park with the clearing. But it was faster to take the service road the kids used.

  Morgan grabbed the handle on the top of the door as the Jeep bounced along. It was nearly two a.m. before they drove into the clearing at the edge of the lake. Their headlights swept across trees, dark water—and a white Honda Accord parked near the bank.

  Morgan pointed. “There’s her car. It would be wonderful if she just went home with a friend.”

  Lance stopped the Jeep, and they got out. Wings flapped overhead and a high-pitched squeak almost made Morgan jump back into the SUV.

  “Was that a bat?” Morgan pulled her flashlight out of her tote.

  “Probably.” Lance leaned back into the Jeep for a flashlight of his own and switched it on.

  “Are you armed?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgan stepped closer. She was an independent, professional woman, but bugs and bats were not on her list of favorite things. “I should have brought my gun.”

  Lance chuckled. “I promise to shoot any bats that attack us.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  The soil was sandy, and in the center of the clear area, generations of kids had dug out a pit for bonfires. Lance played his beam across the pit, full of ashes and scorched wood. Empty water bottles, beer cans, and fast food takeout bag
s littered the area.

  “Doesn’t matter how many times the police run the kids out of here.” Lance stood next to her. “They always come back.”

  Morgan spotted more litter at the water’s edge. “Were we this messy and inconsiderate?”

  “I don’t remember being interested in food when we were out here.” Lance paused. “I do remember making out in the back of my car.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” Morgan shone the flashlight on his face.

  His grin was too wide. “I’ll bet you remember steaming up my car windows too.”

  “I admit nothing.” But yes, she did. “Your ego doesn’t need feeding.” She poked his arm. “Your head will get bigger than your muscles.”

  He wiggled an eyebrow. “You noticed my muscles.”

  With an amused snort, she shifted the light back to the ground, turning her attention—and hopefully Lance’s as well—back to Tessa’s car. Alarm pricked along the skin on her arms. “Her tires are flat.”

  “All of them?” Lance shone his flashlight on the white sedan.

  “Yes.”

  They approached the car. Lance leaned over to look more closely into the interior. “It’s empty.”

  The woods were thick and dark. Could Tessa have decided to walk home and gotten lost? Or maybe she’d gone home with one of the other kids. Wouldn’t be the first time kids covered for a friend with their parents or the police.

  Lance took out his phone. “I’ll call the SFPD and let them know we found the car.”

  “We should probably call Nick and see if he’s seen her.”

  Lance shook his head. “Let the police handle that in case there’s a problem.”

  “A problem?”

  “Someone slashed all her tires.” His eyes were flat in the darkness as he turned away.

  “Nick wouldn’t do that.” But Morgan didn’t make the call.

  While Lance called the police, she circled the vehicle, scanning the car and the ground around it for clues. Something metal glinted in the dirt a dozen feet away: a set of keys. The largest was a Honda ignition key. Why would Tessa’s keys be on the ground? If she dropped them while walking away . . .