Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane #2)(56)

It was her fault Burns had taken an interest in her.

The former prosecutor in Morgan wanted nothing more than to put Harold Burns under police surveillance until he did something illegal. There was nothing in the man’s manner that indicated he was at all interested in being redeemed. In her opinion, it was only a matter of time until Burns gave in to his proclivities.

“Thanks for hanging out here,” Morgan said to her sister. “Are you sure it’s OK with your boss?”

“It’s fine. I’ve missed the girls.” Stella made a shooing gesture with her hand. “Go. Solve your case. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Stella and I have this covered.” Grandpa tapped his cane on the driveway.

Grandpa had always been an excellent shot. He and Dad had taught all four of the Dane siblings how to handle a weapon. It had been a family ritual. Some families went to church on Sundays. The Danes had gone to the shooting range. But now Morgan wondered if Grandpa’s hands were steady enough to hit his target.

And the thought broke her heart.

Stella’s partner, Detective Brody McNamara, opened the door to his unmarked car. “I’ll head back to the station and see what I can dig up on Harold Burns.”

“The sheriff warned us off him,” Lance said.

“It’s a good thing the chief and the sheriff don’t get along,” Brody said over the roof of the sedan. “I’ll have no problem convincing the chief to investigate Burns in spite of the sheriff’s warning.”

Or because of it, knowing Horner.

“That’s making politics work for you,” Lance said.

“For once, right? I’ll let you know what I learn.” Brody slid behind the wheel and then drove away.

“I’ll be inside.” Grandpa wobbled as he went up the front walk. Lance went ahead of him, holding the door open as her grandfather navigated the steps and threshold.

“He’s really unsteady,” Morgan said to her sister.

“I know.” Stella sighed. “But at least I convinced him to use his cane outside. I have this covered for today. You’ve handled the lion’s share of his care up until now. It’s my turn.”

“Actually, up until now, he’s taken care of me.” Morgan stared at the front of the house. “I’m having trouble with the turnabout.”

“I know. He’s always been there for all of us.” Stella looped an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “And now we’ll be there for him.”

“We will.” Morgan nodded. “We need to call Ian and Peyton. They should know what’s going on with him.”

“If they wanted to know, they would call more often,” Stella said.

“Peyton calls now and then, or at least she tries to.” Morgan’s younger sister was a forensic psychiatrist in California. “And Ian talks to Grandpa at least once a week.”

Stella had little patience for their siblings. “Ian lives three hours away. He could visit.”

“Ian never lived here. New York City is his home.” The Danes had moved to Scarlet Falls after their father had been killed. Ian had already been grown. He’d stayed in the city and followed in the Dane tradition, joining the NYPD. But instead of homicide, he’d chosen SWAT.

“We’ll debate family dynamics later.” Morgan hugged her sister. “You’ll keep everyone inside?”

Stella gave her a look. “Are you kidding me? I’m a police detective. I think I can handle keeping a house locked down for a few hours. Besides, your girls are angels. Most of the time.”

“I know.” Morgan blinked back a tear. “But I’m not always rational when it come to my kids’ safety.”

“Everything will be fine here.” Stella wrapped her blazer around her body, then turned and went back into the house, passing Lance on his way back to Morgan.

Morgan and Lance got into the Jeep.

“Are you all right?” Lance started the car.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Morgan blew out a hard breath. “Between my grandfather’s health and having Harold Burns stalk me and Sophie, I’m feeling guilty for going back to work.”

“Stella can handle things here until you get home.” Lance had worked with Stella when he’d been on the police force. “She’s a good cop.”

“I know she is.” Morgan’s phone buzzed. She read the screen. “It’s Sheriff King.”

Lance backed out of the driveway.

She pressed answer. “Morgan Dane.”

Sheriff King didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “The dead woman is not Chelsea Clark.”

Morgan felt the air rush from her lungs as the shock rolled through her. Even though they’d been acting as if Chelsea were still alive, she’d feared the worst. “Do you know who she is?”

“Yes. The ME was able to identify her with dental records, but her family has a right to be notified first.”

“Of course.” Morgan processed the news. “Have you let Tim know that the body isn’t his wife?”

“I called him before I called you.” The sheriff sounded offended that she would even ask.

“Thank you. I just wanted to make sure.” Morgan would still touch base with Tim. The fresh news would generate exposure for tonight’s press conference. “How was the woman killed?”