What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(9)

Eliza looked at her watch. “About an hour ago. I called a couple of local lawyers, but they don’t handle criminal defense. Then I remembered seeing you on the news last fall after that big murder case. You were working with a lawyer. A woman. She seemed very smart.”

“She is,” Sharp said. “If anyone can help Haley, it’s Morgan Dane.”

“Haley’s health is fragile. About seven years ago, in her freshman year of college, she was very sick. She lost weight. She was weak and had bouts of dizziness. The doctors originally thought it might have been a tumor.” Eliza gulped and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “I was terrified.”

“I can only imagine,” Sharp said.

“We were relieved when she was diagnosed with Addison’s disease. Her adrenal glands don’t function properly. She needs to take medication every day or she can suffer dehydration, hypoglycemia, and dangerous drops in blood pressure, which is why her near incoherency this morning is particularly alarming. Haley always carries extra medication, but the police would have taken her purse.”

“Did you explain this at the sheriff’s office?”

“Yes. The deputy at the desk said he would tell the sheriff.”

“How long can she go without her medication before she’s in serious trouble?” Sharp asked, looking up from his computer.

“Normally, a few days without medication would make her tired and possibly dizzy, and she would feel better once she resumed taking the replacement hormones. But stress compounds the problem. Your adrenal glands respond to stress by producing extra cortisol. But Haley’s body can’t do that, and she must take extra medication when she’s stressed. The short answer is, I don’t know.”

Sharp found the story he’d been looking for and skimmed it. “Noah Carter was stabbed to death in his home Friday night. A woman is being questioned as a person of interest in the case.”

Eliza paled. “Haley couldn’t possibly have done that.”

“The best thing we can do is get Morgan over there.” Sharp pulled out his cell and speed-dialed Morgan. After three rings, the call flipped to voice mail. He left a brief message, then tried Lance’s number. He didn’t answer either. Sharp sent Lance a text.

“We should get a call back quickly. Unless she’s in court, Morgan usually answers her phone. She’ll check her messages as soon as the hearing is over.”

“It was a zoo in the sheriff’s station. Several news vans were outside.”

“The search for Shannon Yates is ongoing,” Sharp said.

“I know,” Eliza said. “I’m afraid Haley has been forgotten.”

“They’re not going to forget a murder suspect. It will still be a major case.”

“But if she’s in custody, then she’s no longer a threat. The sheriff’s office will put her on the back burner and focus on the search for the missing woman.” Eliza’s voice tightened.

She was right. The sheriff had a limited number of deputies. They would concentrate their efforts where they could affect the outcome of the case.

“OK. Let’s go to the station. Maybe I can get someone’s attention.” Sharp knew many of the deputies, including the one who had stepped in to act as sheriff after the previous one had died back in November.

“Thank you.” Eliza turned toward the door. The hand on her purse strap was clenched tightly enough to raise the tendons on the back of her hand. “I can’t lose her.”

“You won’t.” Sharp couldn’t let that happen. It didn’t matter how many years had passed since Ted’s death. Some promises never expired.

July 1993

Sharp climbed out of his patrol car in the lot alongside the deli. Sweat dripped down his back before he’d closed the car door. The sun had gone down an hour before, but the sweltering heat had barely broken. The night air was thick and charged with the possibility of a thunderstorm. July humidity, his stiff uniform, and his duty belt were an uncomfortable combination.

Also on night shift, Ted Powell drove up in his black-and-white, parked next to him, and got out of the vehicle. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. Nasty smells emanated from the open dumpster as they walked past it.

“What do you want to drink?” Sharp led the way around the corner of the brick building. He opened the glass front door, and they stepped inside. The scent of hot dogs filled his nose. In front of them, a small group of customers stood in line at the register.

Ted pivoted left, toward the ORDER HERE sign suspended from the ceiling over the sandwich counter. “You want food?”

“No, thanks.” Sharp had packed his dinner. “The chemicals in deli meat will kill you.”

“The baby has been awake for days.” Ted rubbed an eye. “I need sustenance.”

Sharp swallowed a small bite of envy. His own marital problems weren’t his best friend’s fault. He and Kristy had only been married for six months. Things would smooth out. “Good thing that little girl of yours is adorable.”

One thing Sharp liked about working second shift was that by the time he got home, Kristy was asleep. And by the time he woke in the morning, she had left for work. He was avoiding her, which was a bad sign. They were still newlyweds. He should want to go home to his wife.

But she was pressuring him to quit the force. She couldn’t sleep knowing that he might not come home. She had nightmares.