Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(98)

“That’s exactly how Ted Bundy convinced young women to trust him,” Morgan agreed.

“There’s more,” Stella said. “The hospital security tape shows a big man in jeans and a baseball cap outside your mother’s room, Lance. He kept his face shadowed or turned away from the camera, but it could have been him. And the night she was poisoned in the ICU, we have a video of someone we believe is him disguised as a janitor. He went into the room next to your mom’s and waited for the old man to code. Then during the commotion, it appears that he injected something into the bag of saline outside your mom’s room. He’d been researching your mother’s medication on his home computer. He had access to confiscated heroin and guns.”

The police and forensics units had been busy, but then the SFPD, the state police, and the county resources had all been on the job.

“He planned everything.” Lance felt numb. How could someone kill so many people just to cover up one mistake?

Psychopaths only think of their own needs and how to manipulate others to attain them.

“We found something,” one of the forensic techs yelled.

Lance moved toward the hole, but Morgan held him back with a hand on his elbow.

“Let Stella and Brody go first,” she said. “You might not want to see.”

He smiled at her. “I need to see this the same way you needed to see the inside of King’s cabin.”

Her grip on his arm tightened.

“It’s a skull,” someone shouted.

Lance took one look in the gravesite. The skull stared back at him from the dirt. Grief flooded him. That was his dad in the bottom of that hole. Even from outside the grave, Lance could see the fissure over the brow ridge. Blunt force trauma. King’s baton?

Lance swallowed hard, stood back, and let the team work. He’d waited twenty-three years. What was another couple of hours?

“Let’s sit down.” Morgan tugged him toward a carved-out log bench facing the water.

He let her guide him to the seat.

But he didn’t have to wait that long.

An hour later, Stella walked over with a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside was a man’s silver wedding ring. Stella pointed to the inside of the band.

JENNY & VIC FOREVER.

“Thanks,” Lance said, his voice hoarse.

Stella returned the ring to the forensic team, then walked back toward Morgan and Lance.

The official identification would take time, but Lance knew this was it. He’d found his father. Vic Kruger hadn’t abandoned his family. He’d stopped to help a woman in distress, and he’d been killed for it.

His mother had been right all along. His father had been a good man.

Emotions crowded Lance’s chest. Too many to sort through all at once. His next breath dragged in and out of his lungs, making his ribs ache through the pain medicine.

“How are you?” Morgan took his hand. She was wearing thick gloves, but the grasp of her hand grounded him.

“OK. I knew as soon as we got here that this would be the place.” He turned away from the rippling water.

Morgan’s big blue eyes were filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” Under the sadness lurching through his heart, there was a new stillness, as if he was on a turbulent flight that suddenly smoothed out.

Morgan tightened her grip on his hand.

“I have to go see my mother now,” he said.

Jenny had woken that morning, groggy, out-of-sorts, and terrified at being in the hospital. But Lance had gone to the ICU, and she’d calmed down. She was going to be all right, at least physically. Who knew what kind of mental scars the incident would leave? But if there was one thing Lance was learning, it was to handle one disaster at a time. She was going to live. They’d deal with the fallout later.

“I’ll go with you.” Morgan stood. “I know you’re worried about bringing her home, but I want you to accept that I’m here to help. I love your mom.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s what family does.”

He didn’t argue. He wanted her with him. Why he’d ever thought differently was a mystery to him now.

“Brody and I would like to tag along,” Stella said. “We need your mother to answer some questions if she’s up to it.”

“I don’t know how coherent or cooperative she’ll be,” Lance warned, heading toward the Jeep.

“Understood. You tell us what she can tolerate.” Stella waved for Brody, and he strode across the grass toward them. “This scene belongs to the state police. They don’t need us here.”

“I want to stop at my mom’s house and pick up her computer,” Lance said to Morgan. “She’ll feel better if she has something to do.”

They left the crime scene, stopped at Jenny’s, and then drove to the hospital.

To Lance’s surprise, his mother was out of the ICU and in a regular room. Lance walked in first, with Morgan right behind him.

She sat up and reached her hand out for his. Taking it, he sat on the edge of the bed. Morgan stood beside him.

His mom squinted at him. Her eyes were a little bit fuzzy. “What happened to your face?”

She obviously didn’t remember him stopping by that morning. Her voice slurred, as if she were mildly sedated. Probably for the best. She’d experienced enough stress to freak out the most stable person.