Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane #2)(63)

Morgan walked toward the front of the room. Lance took a place near the wall, out of the line of media fire but close enough to be supportive.

Sheriff King stepped up behind a podium. Morgan took her place next to him. They tested microphones, and then the sheriff took the lead, introducing himself and Morgan, then reading a prepared statement. “Chelsea Clark was found on the side of Breakneck Road this morning by a passing motorist. The sheriff’s department is grateful that she is alive and reunited with her family. We are still investigating her disappearance, and we’re determined to bring her kidnapper to justice.”

The press jumped in with questions immediately. “What is her condition?”

The sheriff answered. “Mrs. Clark is stable.”

A reporter in the front row stood. “Where has she been all week?”

“It appears that she was kidnapped and held captive by an unknown person,” the sheriff said.

“Was she released? Did she escape?” another reporter asked.

The sheriff leaned closer to the mic. “It appears that she escaped.”

“What does that mean?” the reporter sounded almost hostile.

The sheriff tensed. “It means I can’t give any further information about an ongoing investigation.”

A tall thin man pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Is this case related to the woman’s remains that were found in Black Run State Park?”

“No.” The sheriff looked taken aback. He wasn’t openly challenged often. “At this time, we have no evidence to link the cases.”

Thin Man continued. “Do you have a description of who took Chelsea Clark?”

Clearly irritated with the reporter’s relentlessness, the sheriff stiffened his shoulders. He inhaled, inflating his chest and sitting taller. He tried to stare down Thin Man, but the reporter’s expression remained smug.

When the sheriff spoke, his words were careful, measured, and full of authority. “Chelsea Clark was abducted last Friday night and held for six days by a man wearing a mask. She never saw his face.”

Thin Man changed the target of his inquiry. “Ms. Dane, as the family’s legal representative, can you divulge any details? The public has a right to know if they’re in danger.”

“Chelsea’s family is grateful to have her back and are focused on her well-being. They ask for the understanding and prayers of the community,” Morgan said. “If you want details about the case, ask the sheriff.”

Thin Man wasn’t deterred. “Is there a serial killer in Randolph County?”

The sheriff leaned close to the mic. “We don’t have evidence to suggest the cases are connected or the inclination to leap to such a conclusion at this time.”

Except that two women, approximately the same age and physical description, had been kidnapped and beaten.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


A child’s scream startled Morgan from a dead sleep. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The bed was cold. After being woken too many nights, Snoozer had abandoned Morgan to sleep with her grandfather. A second small cry floated through the open doorway.

Sophie.

Morgan listened intently for another sound. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. Just after midnight. She’d slept barely thirty minutes after staring at the ceiling and worrying about the case for an hour.

Maybe the night terror will pass.

The previous two episodes lasted at least ten minutes each, but the doctor had said their duration could be a short as a minute or so. It was possible that they’d get lucky and Sophie would settle on her own. A thumping noise verified that this would not be the case tonight.

Bleary-eyed, Morgan tossed the comforter aside and stumbled out of bed. A chill swept over her. Grandpa liked to turn the thermostat down at night, and the old house could use new insulation.

Her bare feet hit the freezing hardwood. Where were her slippers? Not beside her bed where they should be. No time to look for them. She grabbed a sweatshirt and headed for her daughters’ room, still half-asleep and hoping she could remove Sophie before the screaming woke Ava and Mia. They were both sound sleepers, but if Sophie really got going, her screams could wake the dead.

Drawing the shirt over her head, she hurried into the dark hall. A night-light, plugged into a wall socket, cast light downward onto the floor, just enough to keep one from tripping over a toy on their way to the bathroom. The hallway led to the foyer, living room, and kitchen at the front of the house. Moonlight streamed through a window, cutting a swath of light through the darkness.

The light also silhouetted two dark figures, one child and one adult, at the other end of the hall. Morgan stopped in her tracks. Did Gianna or Grandpa wake up and see to Sophie?

Her eyes continued to adjust to the dimness.

The adult figure was much larger than Gianna and definitely male. The child’s shadow wiggled.

“Grandpa?” she called softly, but as the word left her lips, she knew the figure didn’t move like an old man.

He spun to face her. Morgan’s blood chilled to ice water. Definitely not her grandfather.

A strange man stood in her hallway.

An intruder.

A hood shadowed his features. The small form next to him struggled, but he held her firmly by the arm, her back pressed against his body, one of his hands covering her mouth.