Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(60)

“Yes.” Sharp followed Stella and Brody into the kitchen. “But she was taking the news better than I had expected.”

Sharp scanned the kitchen. “That chair pulled away from the table is very unlike Jenny. She likes everything in its place.”

He went to the sink. Empty. Sharp opened the dishwasher, his focus zooming in on two dessert plates standing on the upper rack. “This is wrong.”

Stella came to stand next to him. “What?”

Sharp pointed. “Jenny would never put a dish on the top rack, only glasses and mugs.”

“Do you think someone else was here?” Brody asked.

“Yes,” Sharp said. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

There were too many little things out of place.

Excitement hummed through Sharp’s veins. No matter how upset Jenny was, she would never, ever change the way she loaded the dishwasher.

“Would Jenny let a stranger into her house?” Stella asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sharp said. “But I can’t be sure.”

“Does she run her dishwasher every day?” Stella asked.

“Yes,” Sharp said. “Without fail.”

Stella pointed to the interior. “I see two coffee cups on the top rack.”

She lifted a cup and turned it over. Dried coffee residue was stuck to the bottom of the cup.

Sharp peered over her shoulder. “Jenny thoroughly washes her dishes before they go into the machine. Someone else put those cups in here.”

“Let’s bag these cups as evidence,” Stella said.

“Since there are two dessert dishes here as well,” Sharp said, “it’s possible she had company.”

“We’ll take the plates as well,” Brody said from across the room.

Sharp went to the refrigerator and opened it. There was nothing unusual inside.

Brody went to the garbage can and stepped on the foot pedal. “There are pie scrapings in the trash. Looks like a whole slice.”

“Pie is Jenny’s favorite food. Why would she cut herself a slice and then throw it away?” Sharp asked. “And for that matter, where is the pie? I don’t remember if Lance brought her one this week, but if he did, the box should be on the counter or in the trash.”

“No box in the trash,” Brody said.

“I’ll go check the garbage can outside.” Stella took a small flashlight from her jacket pocket and walked out of the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later. “No pie box.”

“So where did it go?” Sharp asked.

Brody scanned the kitchen. “Maybe her guest brought it and took it away.”

“This whole thing just doesn’t feel right.” Sharp’s wound ached. He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket to give his arm a rest. “Jenny doesn’t get visitors.”

“Staging a suicide is very unlikely. But then, so is having two back-to-back suicides related to the same case.” Brody’s gaze roamed the room before returning to Sharp’s face. “But if you’re right . . .”

“Then she’s in danger,” Sharp finished. He knew he was right. He knew Jenny better than anyone else, maybe even better than Lance did. She clung to her routine like a rock climber dug in to handholds, as if letting go of any small part of her routine would send her plummeting into another downward spiral. The more anxious she was, the more she would insist on following her rituals.

“Let’s get a forensic team in here,” Brody said. “I want the house printed. We’ll get the cups, plates, and pie scrapings tested.”

“We should also get the doctors to run a full drug panel,” Stella said, “in case she was given something other than her own prescriptions.”

“I need to get someone into her room to protect her.” Sharp froze. “Can you spare an officer?”

Brody shook his head. “There’s no way the chief would approve putting a guard on Jenny. We don’t have any real evidence this was a crime, and the hospital will be watching her closely in the ICU.”

“Not closely enough.” Sharp paced across the small room and back. “I wish I could be in two places at once.”

“Give me a minute. Let me see what I can do.” Brody took out his phone and stepped into the next room. He came back in two minutes. “Hannah will go right over to the hospital and stay with Jenny.”

“Hannah?” Sharp asked. “Is she a cop?”

Brody shook his head. “No. Hannah Barrett is my girlfriend. She’s a lawyer, but she had a unique upbringing. I promise you; no one will get past Hannah. She will keep Jenny safe.”

“Why would someone try to kill Jenny?” Stella asked.

“There’s only one reason I can think of,” Sharp said. “It must be related to Victor’s disappearance. She must know something.”





Chapter Thirty

She wasn’t dead.

How could he have miscalculated?

He’d estimated her body weight. He’d counted the pills and crushed them into powder, then mixed some into her coffee and some into her pie. He’d even added a shot of heroin to her pie for good measure. He’d been worried she’d taste the drugs, but she’d eaten every bit. He’d rinsed the damned plate and put it in the dishwasher himself.