When his head dipped lower, she stopped him with a hand in the center of his chest. “It’s just too much right now.” She wished she could explain more eloquently, but she couldn’t summon the words. “We’ll talk Monday?”
With that question, the tension between them shifted from sexy to awkward.
With a quick nod, he stepped back. For a second, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he just followed her out to her van and didn’t step away until her door was locked.
Morgan used the drive home to decompress. When she walked into the house, the girls were in the tub.
In his recliner, Grandpa lowered his newspaper and frowned. “What happened to you? You have a leaf in your hair.”
She perched on the edge of the couch and relayed the day’s events. There was no point in trying to minimize the danger. Grandpa would verify her story with Stella anyway.
“Thank goodness Lance was there.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“I still don’t like it,” Grandpa said.
“Me either. Being a lawyer isn’t usually dangerous. This was definitely a strange day.” Morgan didn’t want the day’s distressing events to intrude on her family time. For now, she’d put it aside. She heard the sound of splashing and a little-girl squeal high enough only to be heard by dogs. “I’ll go give Gianna a hand with bath time.”
“She’s great with them, you know.”
“I know. I think we’re the ones who got lucky when she moved in.” Morgan dropped her dirt-streaked suit in the dry-cleaning basket. When she entered the bathroom, Ava and Mia both stood on the mat wrapped in towels. Gianna was helping Sophie climb out of the tub. Morgan hugged the bigger girls and braced herself for Sophie’s greeting.
As expected, the child leaped into her arms, naked and wet. She pressed her face into Morgan’s shoulder, soaking the T-shirt. “Mommy! I missed you.”
Morgan wrapped her in a towel and set her down. “I missed you too. Tell me about your day.”
“Grandpa bought me a glitter pen,” Sophie began.
Mia vied for attention. “I dressed Snoozer up as a princess.”
Ava hung back, unusually quiet as the younger girls chattered. Morgan pressed her palm to Ava’s forehead. Her nose was red, and her skin felt overly warm. She’d definitely caught Sophie’s cold.
Gianna sat on the edge of the tub and tossed plastic toys into a mesh basket suction-cupped to the tile backsplash.
“Thanks for helping, Gianna. I can do cleanup, Morgan said.
“I’ve got it,” Gianna said. “Why don’t you do story time? They missed you today.”
A fresh pang of guilt hit Morgan between the ribs as she picked up Sophie’s pajamas from the vanity. “Let’s get our pjs on. Want to watch a movie in my bed?”
That night, they broke all the rules, eating cookies in bed and staying up way past bedtime, but it was exactly what Morgan and her three girls needed. After ninety minutes of cuddling with cookies and Disney’s Frozen, Ava was the only child still awake. Morgan transferred Sophie and Mia to their own beds. Sensing something was up with her oldest, she didn’t rush her.
Morgan sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her daughter’s hair away from her sad face. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Ava twisted the hem of her Little Mermaid nightgown. “What is a rapist?”
Oh no.
She, Grandpa, and Gianna were careful to keep the news off when the girls were around, but it was impossible to isolate her children from the world.
“Where did you hear that word?” Morgan asked.
“Mandy Pinkerton said her mommy said that Nick is a rapist and that he killed Tessa and you’re trying to get him out of jail.” Ava’s words came out rapid-fire fast in one breath.
“A rapist is someone who hurts other people,” Morgan simplified. “But I don’t believe Nick would hurt anyone.”
“Then why is he in jail?” Ava’s big brown eyes swam with questions and fear.
“I think the police made a mistake.”
“What if they didn’t?” Ava echoed Morgan’s own fear.
Was it possible that Nick was guilty? That he’d killed Tessa in a fit of rage?
Ava crumpled another handful of her nightie. “What if Nick is a bad person, and they let him go? He lives right across the street. He comes in our house all the time. He could hurt us.”
Morgan debated assuring Ava that Nick was innocent. At this point, she had more questions than answers about the case. In the end, she opted for the truth.
“I’m going to find out what happened, OK? I would never want a dangerous person to be let out of jail.” She kissed her daughter’s head. “And I promise to keep you safe.”
Nodding, Ava sniffed. “I miss Tessa. Did she really die?”
“Yes.” Morgan’s heart ached.
“So we’ll never see her again,” Ava said.
“That’s right. I’m sorry.” Morgan put her arms around the child. Neither Mia nor Sophie had mentioned Tessa, although Morgan had told them she’d died. But Ava was clearly struggling. Her memories of John were clearer, and so was her grasp of the concept of death.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Yes.” Morgan brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.
Ava took the photo of John from the nightstand and stared at it. “I miss Daddy. If he was here, he’d protect us, and I wouldn’t be so scared.”
“I miss him too, but you’re safe here with Grandpa and me.” Morgan leaned back on the pillow.
“Sometimes I forget what he looked like.” Ava carefully returned the framed picture to the nightstand.
“We have lots of pictures.” Morgan pulled her daughter close. She took a deep whiff of detangling spray and bubblegum-scented soap as Ava snuggled close. Who was comforting whom?
Ava drifted off quickly, but sleep eluded Morgan. It hadn’t occurred to her that six-year-olds would be discussing a case of rape and murder. But she should have expected it. Kids had the most acute hearing when adults were discussing forbidden topics.
But it saddened her to think of young children learning about brutal crimes. Her girls should go to bed feeling safe and secure. They shouldn’t have to worry about criminals living across the street.
Morgan stared at the ceiling, Ava’s words echoing in her mind.
Was it possible that Nick was guilty? How would that affect the girls? Eventually they’d find out that a man their mother had welcomed into their house was a killer.
And even scarier, if Nick was innocent. Then someone else had killed Tessa. Which meant that someone in Scarlet Falls was a murderer. And that killer still roamed free.
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 eyeballs burned.
Morgan seemed distracted.
“Are you all right?” Lance asked.
“Ava had some issues at school with another little girl telling her that her mommy wanted to free a rapist.” Morgan propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm.
Lance pushed off the doorway. “Seriously? Som
e parent was talking about rapists with their six-year-old?”
“The child could have simply overheard her parents talking.”
“People should be careful what they say around children.”
She sighed. “Six seems too young to me to talk about rape and murder. When I took this case, I knew there would be gossip, but I thought some of the community would be on Nick’s side. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“The media hasn’t helped. The coverage has been distinctly one-sided.”
“Neither Mia nor Sophie understand the finality of death, but Ava is starting to get it.” Morgan straightened, as if shaking off her mood. “Either way, she really needed my attention yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” Lance hesitated. He wanted to be her confidant, but Saturday he’d pushed too hard and she’d backpedaled. He didn’t want her to retreat any further. “The girls don’t need this on top of their dad’s death.”
Morgan shrugged. “Only Ava asks about him. Sophie barely knew him. She was just an infant when she saw him last. John was deployed six months before he died. Mia was only two and a half. Even Ava’s memories are limited. He was gone so much that his absence wasn’t anything new in the kids’ day-to-day lives.”
Guilt stabbed him in the gut. Whatever happened between him and Morgan, she had to make the first move. How else could he be sure he wasn’t taking advantage of her vulnerability? “Look, Morgan. About Saturday.” He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I don’t want to do anything to add to your stress. I know you have a lot on your plate with the case and your girls. If I was out of line—”
She got up and walked closer, stopping him with a hand on his forearm. “You weren’t. I’m the one who should apologize to you. I know I’m sending you mixed signals. The fact is I am attracted to you, but I don’t know when or if I’ll be ready to do anything about it. I don’t know what I want. I’m sorry. Until this case is over . . .”
“It’s probably best if we stick to friendship. I like you. I don’t want to ruin what we have.” But even as he said it, his brain latched onto I am attracted to you.
She smiled. “I like you too.”
Well, shit. That didn’t help.
“Grief isn’t something you can rush or make happen on cue,” he said. “But maybe you should consider therapy.”
Morgan frowned. “I’ve tried. It didn’t feel right.”
“Mom had to work her way through a few therapists before she found the right one. Personality and style have to be a good fit. I can give you a number.”
“I’ll think about it.” She squeezed his arm. “Thanks for understanding.”
He was the one who didn’t know what the hell he wanted. Yes, he did. He wanted her. He just couldn’t have her.
For instance, right now he was loving her hand on his arm. He wanted to return the touch. He wanted to drag her against him and kiss her senseless. The more they worked together, the closer he felt to her. When the case was over, he’d have to back off until he straightened out his head.
“Did you run across anything interesting yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes. I found a fascinating piece of information buried in one of the police reports.” Morgan returned to her chair and removed a stack of files from her tote. “The Palmers told everyone that Tessa’s parents died when Tessa was twelve. That isn’t entirely true. Tessa’s mother died in the car accident, but her father survived. He was responsible. He’s currently serving a twenty-three-year sentence in state prison for aggravated vehicular homicide.”
“Twenty-three years?” Lance whistled.
“Steep sentence, right?” Morgan tapped a finger on the table. “After Tessa’s death Chief Horner interviewed the Palmers personally, and he didn’t press them for details. It was mentioned quietly in the background information and never highlighted. Tessa’s father has been incarcerated for six years. It was a multi-vehicle crash, his blood alcohol well beyond the legal limit, and he’d previously lost his license for driving while intoxicated. Three people died, and he was found guilty on multiple counts. There were definitely aggravating factors, but he isn’t a cold-blooded killer. And he’s behind bars, so maybe Horner was right to let it go.”
“So why did the Palmers lie?” Lance asked.
“I suppose they didn’t want people to know their son was in prison,” Morgan said. “Tessa was old enough to understand the details when it happened. I wonder how she felt about pretending her father was dead.” She shook her head. “Though I honestly don’t see how it could be related to Tessa’s case. The Palmers might have told their neighbors a lie, but they were truthful to the police, and it was so long ago.”
The front door banged open, and Sharp shouted down the hall, “Anybody home?”
“We’re back here,” Lance called.
Sharp unzipped his gray hoodie on his way into the room. He carried a cardboard tray containing three cups. “Green tea for everybody.”
Lance took a cup. Sharp offered one to Morgan.
She smiled, lifting her cup. “Thanks anyway, but I brought my own.”
“That stuff will kill you.” Sharp frowned.
“But I’ll be awake when I go,” she said.
Sharp winked. “I’ll convert you yet.”
Morgan wrapped both hands around her mug. “I have three kids under the age of seven. You’ll pry the coffee from my cold, dead hands.”
He laughed. “What did everyone accomplish yesterday?”
Morgan repeated the information about Tessa’s father.
“From the beginning, I wasn’t happy with the way the case was being handled.” Sharp turned to the murder board. “I spent some time last night at The Pub. The boys were there and gossiping like a bunch of old ladies.”
In Lance’s experience, Sharp’s retired and almost-retired cop buddies gossiped more than any women. Many of them were divorced and lonely. It was hard for a marriage to survive twenty-five years on the force. Some cops were closer to their partners than their spouses.
“I agree. I expect more from Brody.” Lance pulled out a chair and sat across from Morgan.
Sharp took the seat next to him. “Now I know why Brody is out of touch with the case.”
“Why?” Lance asked.
“Because Horner is hoarding this case like a possessive dog. He won’t let Brody do anything.” Sharp’s eyes brightened. “He and the DA have tied Brody’s hands.”
“That explains why Brody was so abrupt on Saturday,” Lance said. “Sounds like he’s as frustrated as we are.”
“No doubt,” Sharp agreed. “What’s on our plate for today?”
Morgan drained her coffee. “I’m talking to Felicity as soon as she gets home from school.”
“Lance?” Sharp asked.
“Waiting for a call from my mom about background data on Dean Voss and the deeper digs on the Barones and Kevin Murdoch.” His phone buzzed. “And that’s her now.” He answered the call. “Hi, Mom. Can I put you on speaker? Morgan and Sharp are here.”
“Yes,” she said.
Lance turned on the speaker and set his phone on the table. “OK. We’re all listening.”
“I’ll email you the full report, but I wanted to give you the highlights,” Mom began. “Let’s start with Dean Voss. Mr. Voss is a veteran. He served in the army for eight years after college, including three tours in Iraq. He’s married, no kids. He was wounded twice. Four years ago, at age 30, he received an honorable discharge. He got his teaching certificate and took a job teaching history at Scarlet Falls High School. Last year, he resigned in the middle of the year.”
“Let me guess,” Sharp said. “Inappropriate relations with a student.”
“How did you know?” Mom asked.
“Because it just figures,” Sharp said in a wry voice.
Lance’s mom continued. “There were no charges filed. I had to work to get the details. The girl, Ally Somers, denied it, and apparently there wasn’t any physical evide
nce, just a statement from another student, Kimmie Blake, who claimed to see them kissing. But Voss resigned anyway.”
“Is there any connection between Kimmie Blake, Ally Somers, Jamie, and Tessa?” Morgan asked.
“That I don’t know,” Lance’s mom said.
“Even if the accusations were a complete fabrication, there’s no coming back from that in teaching.” Morgan shook her head. “Do we know if Voss ever had Tessa in one of his classes?”
“I can’t legally access student records,” his mom answered. “But I did find out that Voss taught American History and World Cultures to sophomores and juniors, so it’s very possible.”
“Putting that on my list of questions for the Palmers.” Morgan made a notation. “I hope they’ll talk to me without me having to subpoena them to give a deposition. I don’t want to look like a monster. I’ll ask Felicity first. She might know who Tessa’s teachers were last year.”
“She might have more info on Voss as well.” Lance nodded. “Kids know everything.”
Lance’s mom gave them Dean Voss’s last known address. “He’s only been living there since last May, and his wife filed for divorce two weeks ago.”
Could that have sent him over the edge?
“We’ll drop by Voss’s place and talk to the neighbors today,” Lance said. “What else do you have for us, Mom?”
“You asked for more information on the Barone family.” She cleared her throat. “This took some digging, but I believe Dwayne Barone is involved with a group called the WSA.”
“Well, shit.” Sharp got up and began to pace the room.
“What’s the WSA?” Morgan looked up from her file.
“The White Survival Alliance,” Lance said. Now he really didn’t want Morgan anywhere near the Barone place. “A local white supremacist group, a quasi-militia. They’re preparing for the apocalypse.”
Sharp rubbed his bald head. “A few months ago, the SFPD raided a barn behind a member’s house. It was full of raw materials for making explosives. It was also booby-trapped. Thankfully, no one was killed when it blew up.”
“Mrs. Kruger?” Morgan leaned over the speaker. “Do you know Dwayne Barone’s position in the organization?”
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