What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(34)

“She said she suffered from anxiety.” Morgan lowered her window an inch.

Lance tapped a finger on the steering wheel.

“You don’t believe her?” Morgan removed her legal pad from her tote.

“I don’t know. She was so anxious during the whole interview that I can’t pinpoint what she seemed most uncomfortable discussing.”

“I found it hard to read her as well.” She began making notes on the interview while it was still fresh in her mind. “But we did learn several things. One, she was mad at Haley for ignoring her on her birthday. Two, Haley has an ex who might also have been angry that night. Three, Piper has feelings for the ex, and four, Haley was behaving out of character that night, less reserved than usual, more social.”

“Alcohol lowers inhibitions, especially for those who can’t handle it.”

“True.” Morgan had no tolerance for alcohol. Since she preferred not to be stupid in public, one drink was her limit. “Date-rape drugs also lower inhibitions.”

“We can’t prove someone drugged Haley.”

“I know.” Morgan drummed her fingers on her notepad. “Let’s get background info on Haley’s ex.”

“I’ll call my mom and get her to add him to the top of her list.”

“And I’ll go through the police reports again, but I don’t remember any mention of Haley’s ex-boyfriend.”

“Me either.” Lance put the Jeep in gear. “We learned one other thing in Piper’s interview. She has crazy knife skills.”

“She certainly does.”

His phone vibrated with a text. He picked it up and read the screen. “Sharp says they’re leaving the jail with Haley, and the place is crawling with reporters and protesters. He wants me at Eliza’s house to play bodyguard in case there’s trouble.”

“Protesters are there already?” Morgan used her phone to access a network news station’s website. “Oh, no. The case made the national news.” She turned up the volume.

“We’re outside the county jail, where a crowd has gathered to protest the release of Haley Powell on bail. Ms. Powell is being charged with first-degree murder in the stabbing death of Noah Carter.” The reporter went on to relay the gory facts of the case. “Haley is the daughter of Eliza Powell, the owner of Wild, a hugely successful cosmetic company.”

The reporter detailed the evidence the police claimed to have and the wealth of Haley’s mother. He then approached a young man carrying an enlarged photo of Noah Carter. “Why are you here today?”

The young man shook his sign. “That crazy bitch butchered Noah. She shouldn’t be out on bail. We want justice.”

The feed went to a commercial. When the news returned, a different reporter stood on a rural street. The picture panned away from the reporter to an upshot of a house. Eliza’s house was a mansion, and the camera angle made the structure look even bigger and more imposing that it was. All glass and cedar, it perched on top of a foothill, no doubt commanding multimillion-dollar views.

The reporter said, “This is the Powell residence, where Haley Powell will be on house arrest until her trial for the murder of Noah Carter.”

When the segment ended, Morgan closed her laptop. “I don’t like the attention. Not one bit. They’re treating her like some sort of spoiled celebrity. We won’t be able to find a single juror who won’t walk into that courtroom with a predisposed opinion of Haley as a privileged rich girl who thinks she can get away with anything—even murder.”

“What do we do?” Lance asked.

“I don’t know yet. But I’d better think of something fast, or Haley will be found guilty before her case ever makes it to court.”

Lance’s phone buzzed again. “Let’s go. Sharp says Haley just received her first death threat.”

“With this amount of publicity, she’ll receive more of those before this is over.” Angry, Morgan jammed her notepad into her tote. “And thanks to the media, everyone now knows exactly where she lives.”





Chapter Fourteen

Peering out the front window of Eliza’s house, Sharp swallowed a curse. A throng of reporters gathered at the base of the long, steep driveway. News vans lined the gravel shoulder of the road. A tall wrought-iron fence enclosed the property, and an electronic gate barred the driveway entrance. Across the road from the media, protesters shouted and waved signs.

JUSTICE FOR NOAH.

KEEP KILLERS BEHIND BARS.

JUSTICE SHOULDN’T BE FOR SALE.

Eliza stepped up next to him. “I can’t believe there are so many people out there.”

“I was hoping they wouldn’t find your house so fast.” Sharp closed the blinds, blocking out the setting sun.

Eliza hugged her waist. “Will the gate keep them out?”

“Most of them will respect the gate.”

“Most?” She pivoted to face him.

“There’s always one.” He searched her face. “How are you holding up?”

She was strong, but Haley was her weakness.

“I’m trying not to think too far ahead. There are just too many horrible possibilities.” She shivered. “Part of me cannot believe the situation Haley is in. She was an easy baby and an easy kid. When other parents complained about their teenagers getting into trouble and being difficult, I counted my blessings.” Eliza pressed a fist to her mouth. “Someone must have framed her for this crime. She would never do anything so terrible. She simply isn’t capable.”