Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(66)

“You’re pathetic,” she spat.

Lance eased sideways, distancing himself from Brian and the stream of wrath his wife was pouring on him.

“Natalie.” Morgan’s voice was soft and soothing. “Where were you the night Lance’s father disappeared?”

Lance froze.

Did Natalie kill Mary?

“I was here. Someone had to be home with the children.” Natalie’s focus never left Brian’s face.

No one would be able to give her an alibi.

“Did you kill Mary?” Morgan asked in a gentle voice, her tone suggesting an admission would be totally understandable under the circumstances.

Natalie blinked. Her attention flickered to Morgan. “Why would I kill her? It wasn’t her fault that my husband is disgusting.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice. Her attention returned to Brian, fresh fury flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t even know it was Mary until just now.”

Brian hadn’t just betrayed Vic. He’d betrayed his wife too. Everything about him was a lie.

Who was he sleeping with now?

“Natalie, is there anyone who can verify that you were here that night?” Morgan asked.

“No. The kids were all in bed.” More angry tears spilled from Natalie’s eyes. “But you can believe me when I say that the only person I have ever wanted to kill is Brian.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a huge handgun.

Lance took three steps sideways, stepping in front of Morgan, one arm sweeping out to tuck her behind him, the other drawing his sidearm. But the only reason he’d shoot Natalie was if she turned the gun on him and Morgan. Brian was on his own. Life lesson: If you lie down with dogs, you might not get up again.

“Where did you get that?” Brian screeched.

“I bought it, dumbass,” she shot back. “It’s not hard. You go out late at night. I’m here by myself. You don’t like dogs. I wanted it for protection.”

“Put it down! You’re not going to shoot me.” Brian took a step forward, his face smug.

Lance thought she might.

“Dude, I wouldn’t do that,” Lance said.

Natalie’s gun went off. The rooster cookie jar exploded a few feet to Brian’s right, sending ceramic shards and cookie bits in all directions.

Brian turned toward an open doorway to his left, but Natalie fired another shot, cutting off his path. Trapped, Brian searched the room for a way out. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Oh, please. I’ve been taking lessons for months, not that you would notice. Do you think I’d buy a gun if I didn’t know how to shoot it? If had wanted to hit you, you’d be bleeding.” She lowered the gun, pointing it at the floor. “Get out of my house.”

“It’s not—”

The gun muzzle lifted an inch.

“Brian . . .” Lance warned in a what-are-you-thinking tone.

“You have three seconds.” Natalie tapped the toe of her sensible shoe on the kitchen tile. “One.”

Brian complained, “But this is my—”

“Two,” Natalie said.

Brian slid along the wall. Natalie moved out of his way, keeping several feet of space between them, but she didn’t turn her back on him. She spun in a slow circle as he passed her.

The front door slammed. A few seconds later, a powerful engine started up, and they heard the Porsche roar away.

“He’ll be back.” Natalie stuffed her gun into her purse. “Best purchase I’ve made in years. I was just never the sort of person who could stand up for myself.”

“What changed?” Morgan asked.

“A few months ago, a friend of mine finally talked me into going to a support group. Hearing other women talk about getting out of bad marriages made me think I could do it too. I’ve been secretly planning to leave him for months. Kicking him out feels even better.”

“We should go.” Lance nudged Morgan’s arm. Someone probably called the police. Gunshots were not normal in this neighborhood.

Natalie walked across the kitchen, pieces of ceramic crunching under her shoes. She pulled a dust pan from the pantry and began to sweep up.

“Are you all right?” Morgan asked.

Natalie paused for a few seconds. “I feel better than I have in years. It makes me angry that I wasted so much of my life. I could have been happy. Why did I put up with that asshole all this time?”

The question sounded rhetorical. Lance kept his mouth shut.

Natalie swept up a pile of red-and-yellow crockery pieces. “I always hated that cookie jar. Brian bought it for me.” She nudged the decapitated rooster head with a toe and then ground it under her shoe. “Stupid cock.”

Lance didn’t wait for the police to show. He took Morgan’s elbow and steered her toward the front door. “The last thing I need right now is another run-in with the sheriff’s department.”

“True,” she agreed as they went outside. “You won’t be able to solve the case from a cell.”

“You asked Natalie about her activity the night my dad disappeared. Do you really think she could have done it?” Lance got behind the wheel. He glanced up and down the street but didn’t see any curious neighbors or police.

Morgan slid into the passenger seat. “Now that I think about it, no. I would lean toward a male killer. Strangling a young woman and putting her into the trunk of a car would take physical strength. I doubt I could lift a dead body. Hanging Crystal took some muscle too.”