“Why would he have killed Tessa?” Morgan asked.
“He was delusional. Maybe he thought she was someone else. If he really was falsely accused, he could have mistaken her for Kimmie Blake, the girl who made the accusation.”
“Or, if he really was interested in his female students, maybe he was attracted to Tessa.” Morgan’s phone vibrated. She glanced at the display. “It’s the DA.”
She answered the call.
“Can you come to my office?” he asked.
“Yes.” She looked at Lance. His clothes were stained with Dean Voss’s blood. “Thirty minutes?”
Bryce agreed, and Morgan ended the call.
“What was that about?” Lance drove out of the parking lot.
“Bryce wants to see me.” She checked the time. “Which is interesting because he’s supposed to be in a grand jury hearing in two hours.”
“Do you think he’ll drop the charges?” Lance asked.
“Maybe.” Morgan rubbed her head. Her scalp still stung from Dean Voss’s grip in her hair. “If you drop me back at the office, I’ll get my minivan.”
“Or I could take you to the courthouse.”
“I think I’ll be safe enough there,” she said. “Besides, you need a shower and fresh clothes.”
“Where are you going after the courthouse?” he asked as he drove toward the office.
“To see Nick.” She crossed her fingers that she’d have the best news for him.
When they reached Sharp Investigations, Lance dropped her next to her minivan. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
She drove to the courthouse. With her stomach growling and her energy flagging, Morgan detoured to the vending machines for a pack of Peanut M&M’s. She ate them on the way to Bryce’s office. His secretary waved her through immediately. Morgan went in, not sure what to expect.
He stood as she entered and gestured to a guest chair facing his desk. Had she not decided to defend Nick, she would have started her job with the DA’s office the day before. Had it only been a week and a half since she’d had dinner with Bryce? It felt like much longer.
Bryce leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a few seconds, then he shifted forward. “I’m dropping the charges against Nick Zabrowski. Not because I’m convinced he’s innocent but because Dean Voss’s cryptic confession creates too much doubt. The police will continue to investigate, and there’s no guarantee we won’t seek an indictment against your client at some future date.”
But for now, Nick wouldn’t have to go back to jail. Equal amounts of relief and anger rushed through Morgan, but she held her tongue. Lashing out at Bryce for putting Nick in jail—where he was stabbed—wouldn’t help. In fact, the less she spoke to Bryce the better. Every word that came out of her mouth would give the DA information.
“If a man isn’t proven guilty, then he is innocent in the eyes of the law,” she said.
Bryce didn’t comment on Nick’s innocence. “I’ll call off the guard and have Nick’s handcuffs removed.”
Morgan nodded. “I’m headed to the hospital to speak with Nick now.”
But they both knew that public sentiment wouldn’t necessarily be as easy to sway, not until someone was convicted of Tessa’s murder.
“You are a diligent investigator, Ms. Dane,” Bryce said as they both stood. “I might be willing to extend another offer to you.”
Morgan shook his hand. When she tried to pull her hand from his grip, he held on. The gesture felt slimy. Everything about Bryce Walters felt slippery, and the fact that he was playing nice made her doubly suspicious. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself.” Releasing her hand, he straightened. His flat smile couldn’t cover the irritation in his eyes. He was up to something. But what?
“How did the Emersons take the request for Jacob’s DNA?” she asked.
“About as well as you would expect. Phillip Emerson is filing a harassment lawsuit against the township.”
“It won’t stand up.”
“I’m not worried about it. The photos from last July of his son with Tessa Palmer are damning. If Tessa was still alive and willing to testify, we’d likely be filing sexual assault charges against Jacob.” Bryce came out from behind his desk.
“You’re not?” Disappointment filled Morgan. Tessa deserved better. Morgan rose from her chair.
“It’s hard enough to get a conviction in a sexual assault case with the victim’s testimony and DNA evidence. Without either of those things . . .” Bryce lifted a shoulder. “You know the odds.”
“This is why so few rapists ever spend a day in prison,” Morgan said.
She left without a single regret for losing the job with the DA’s office. When she’d worked for the prosecutor’s office in Albany, the DA had power, but he hadn’t run his office like a fiefdom the way Bryce did.
She couldn’t wait to tell Nick he was free, at least for now. She wished she had a real confession from Dean Voss. As much as she wanted to tell Nick she’d found Tessa’s real killer, Voss’s vague statement wasn’t enough to convince Morgan. Reasonable doubt would keep Nick out of prison, but it wouldn’t restore his reputation.
More importantly, if Voss wasn’t Tessa’s killer, then a murderer was still loose in Scarlet Falls.
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 angle before he fired. We both know how fast these situations go down. He had one second to make up his mind. When Voss turned, he was cradling his right hand under his left arm. It’s possible it looked as if he was drawing Morgan’s weapon from his waistband.”
“The rookie had no way of knowing he had a broken wrist,” Sharp added.
“But everyone is going to judge him as if he did.”
“They will.” Sharp sighed. “Morgan really broke his wrist?”
“She did.” Unable to sit still, Lance got up and paced the floor in front of Sharp’s desk. “I don’t know why everything she does always comes as a surprise. Her father and grandfather were both cops. Her sister is a detective. Her brother is NYPD SWAT.”
“The pearls and heels throw you off.”
“That’ll teach me to judge people by their appearances.” Lance paused, one hand on the back of his neck.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m still revved from the shooting.”
“I have some information for you.” Sharp picked up a pair of reading glasses and focused on the paper in front of him. “The man who stabbed Nick—Menendez—has a wife and a six-year-old son. The child has a heart defect. Their medical bills have already driven them into bankruptcy,” Sharp said. “Yet Mrs. Menendez made a hefty deposit into her bank account recently. Considering the prior balance was eleven dollars, I think the deposit is significant.”
“Someone paid Menendez to stab Nick.”
“Yes.” Sharp’s eyes gleamed.
“Do you know who?” Lance asked.
Sharp nodded. “The sheriff might not be keen on sharing, but I hav
e my own contact at the jail. My man says the sheriff knows who ordered the hit.”
Suddenly that piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Lance. “Tessa Palmer’s father.”
“Bingo,” said Sharp. “He did it from inside prison. Apparently, her father has some clout in prison.”
“And access to money,” Lance added.
“The sheriff’s office is following the money trail. They’ll find out who financed the hit.”
“So revenge motivated the attempt on Nick’s life.”
“Yes. The poor kid was jailed and stabbed for something he didn’t do.”
Lance’s phone buzzed. “It’s Morgan.” He answered the call, and she summed up her meeting with the DA and Nick’s certain freedom. Relief flooded Lance. “Great. I’ll see you at the hospital.”
He ended the call and relayed the conversation to Sharp. “Morgan says the DA dropped the charges against Nick.”
“Hallelujah,” Sharp said.
“Don’t get too excited. Nick is still considered a suspect.”
Sharp swore. “Voss’s confession was too wishy-washy, but it will force Horner and the DA to take a fresh look at the case. Plus, forensics will have Voss’s DNA to compare to evidence found at the scene.”
Lance resumed his pacing. “I’m not convinced that Dean Voss killed Tessa Palmer.”
“Voss was seriously impaired. He might not have been aware of what he was doing.”
Lance stopped. “I could see him stabbing her thinking she was someone else, but rape? That’s a whole different crime. One that doesn’t fit with Dean Voss’s personality at all. His wife doesn’t think he did it either, and she was afraid of him for other reasons.”
Sharp got up and walked down the hall to the war room. He stood in front of the whiteboard. “If it wasn’t Voss, then who killed Tessa?”
“The only other suspects are Jacob Emerson and Kevin Murdoch.”
“I respect your instincts. You and Morgan both have enough experience to know when you’re being lied to, but we have no evidence to support a case against Kevin except the timing of Jamie’s vanishing act.”
“You’re right.” Lance stepped up next to him and pointed to Jacob’s photo. “We know he sexually assaulted Tessa back in July. It doesn’t seem like a big stretch that he’d do it again. When she resisted, he got angry.”
“His father says he was home, and the GPS on his cell phone confirms that.”
“Either Phillip Emerson is lying or Jacob slipped out of the house without his father knowing. Kids do it all the time.”
Sharp scanned the board from one end to the other. “I think you’re right. Rape shapes the whole dynamic of the crime. Rape happens when a man sees something he wants and takes it.”
“Voss’s violence came from his fear, his paranoia, his delusions.”
“He hit his wife,” Sharp said.
“Yes. But even she said he was moral, that he would never have hurt one of his students. Rape is about power. It’s aggressive. Voss acted defensively, like a cornered animal.”
“A rapist has no regard for women. Jacob is an entitled little prick who already demonstrated his lack of respect for Tessa when he assaulted her unconscious body.” Sharp took Jacob’s photo and moved it to the center of the board. “We have no hard evidence that he killed Tessa. Yet we both believe that he’s the most likely suspect.”
“He was laughing in those pictures. He enjoyed humiliating her.”
“Your assessment of his expression is not evidence,” Sharp said. “Let’s backtrack. Jacob saw Tessa at the party. She was with Nick. This angered him. What if she refused to sleep with him when they dated? The only way he was able to have sex with her was to drug her. Yet she was obviously having sex with Nick, giving him what she’d denied Jacob.”
Lance picked up the thread of the theory. “He snuck out of his house. He brought a condom. He planned to rape her, to take what she wouldn’t give him but he was entitled to.”
“How did he know she would still be at the lake?” Sharp asked.
“That I don’t know. When he left the party, she was sitting in her car, crying. Maybe he just hoped she’d still be there.”
“She called his house that night,” Sharp reminded him. “Either it was Jacob who took the call or he overheard her conversation with his father. We don’t know what was said. We only have Phillip Emerson’s statement, which he could totally have changed to protect his son. What about the knife? Do you think he brought it with him to kill her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he brought it to facilitate the rape, then she made him angry. Jacob doesn’t have the best self-control.”
Sharp and Lance exchanged a glance.
“We can’t prove any of this,” Sharp said.
“Nope.”
“There’s one person who was at that party and not interviewed by the police.” Sharp hurried from the room. He returned with Jamie Lewis’s picture. He fixed it to the board with a magnet. “No one has seen Jamie Lewis since that night, not even her best friend. I spent all morning checking places on Tony’s list. I called all her friends, and I’m halfway through the locations Tony thought Jamie frequented. So far, I’ve found no sign of her. What if Jamie saw the murder and it scared her so much she left town?”
“It’s a possibility.” Lance rubbed the ache at the base of his skull. “I’m going to cruise by the Emerson house before I join Morgan at the hospital. I would love an opportunity to talk to the maid without the family around.”
“Watch yourself. Phillip Emerson is already screaming harassment.”
Lance shrugged. “He’s filed suit against the township. We’re private.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Lance went to his office to retrieve his keys. “What are you doing next?”
“I’m still working on the list of Jamie’s hiding places. I’m packing bribe money and considering asking a few of my retired friends for help. They know this town inside and out. If Jamie Lewis is anywhere in this area, I’m going to find her.”
“I’ll check in when I know something.” Lance headed for the door.
The Emerson house was quiet when Lance parked at the curb. Originally, he’d only planned to watch the house for a few minutes, but since the Emersons utilized their garage, it was impossible to see who was home from the outside. Lance used the telephoto lens on his camera to look through the windows. The only activity he saw was the maid dusting.
He watched for another ten minutes. No sign of Jacob or Phillip Emerson. Enough tiptoeing around these people.
Lance slipped out of the car, walked up to the front door, and rang the bell.
The maid answered. She was in her mid-fifties. She wore a plain gray uniform with a white apron. Her gray-and-brown hair was bound in a tight bun.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’m here to see Mr. Emerson.” Lance smiled.
“You were here before.” She frowned.
“Yes. Is Mr. Emerson in?”
“Which Mr. Emerson?” she asked.
Lance was not going to be accused of harassing a minor. “Mr. Phillip Emerson.”
The maid shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. Mr. Phillip isn’t home. Would you like to leave a message?”
“Yes.” Lance offered her a business card. “Please tell him I’d like to speak with him.”
The maid took the card. “In the future, please call for an appointment.”
“Who’s at the door, Myra?” a voice called from the hall behind the maid.
Jacob Emerson stepped into view. His face tightened as he recognized Lance. “What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to ask your father a few questions.” Lance smiled.
“You have balls. I’ll give you that.” Jacob pushed the maid aside. “I’ll handle this, Myra. Go back to work.”
With a nod, the woman backed away.
“There’s no use sniffing around here. You won’t find any evidence because I didn�
��t kill Tessa.” Jacob crossed his arms over his chest.
“The same way you didn’t molest her unconscious body?” Lance asked.
Jacob’s lip curled. “When my father gets home, he’s going to be pissed.”
He’s a minor. You can’t punch him.
But Lance wanted to smack the sneer off this kid’s face. “Is he out cleaning up more messes for you? That must be a full-time job for him.”
“You know nothing about us.” Jacob’s face flushed red. “My father is a great man. Right now he’s visiting a sick friend at the hospital. Take your accusations and get off our property before I call the police.”
But Lance was already headed toward his Jeep. Emerson was going to the hospital.
Where Morgan was visiting Nick.
Coincidence?
With everything else that had happened on this case, Lance was not willing to bet Nick’s or Morgan’s safety on a coincidence.
Could they have been wrong? Had the man who’d stalked Morgan at the office been Phillip Emerson, not Jacob? He must have known that it was Morgan who’d petitioned for Jacob’s DNA. And he must have been angry. Parents will do anything to protect their children. How far would Phillip go?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rage pulsed inside him. It grew and fed on itself until it had a will of its own.
Morgan Dane was going to ruin everything. Someone else had been arrested. The evidence he’d planted had been solid—until Ms. Dane stuck her nose into his business.
There was no question that she had to be stopped. But how? Her sidekick, the former cop, was always at her side, and he acted like her personal bodyguard.
He’d spent all night devising a plan to stop her investigation. Step number one: finish what the county jail had left undone. She couldn’t defend a dead client.
He entered the hospital through the main doors. This wasn’t the city. The medium-size community hospital had little need for security. There were only two people behind the reception desk in the lobby. An elderly woman sat at a computer, looking up patient room numbers and handing out visitor passes with a polite smile. Seated behind her, a security guard in his mid-fifties drank coffee and talked over the counter with a man in a suit wearing a hospital ID. Hospital administration?
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