Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(70)

They entered the small recycling office building. Instead of Warren Fox, a black-haired man sat at a beat-up desk watching something on his smart phone.

Lance stopped in front of the desk. “We were looking for Warren.”

“He called in sick,” the black-haired man said without taking his eyes off his screen.

“Thanks.” Morgan led the way out of the building and climbed into the Jeep.

Lance slid behind the wheel. “Do we have Warren’s home address?”

“Yes.”

While Morgan dug out the address and plugged it into her phone maps app, Lance called the hospital and checked on his mother’s condition. Nothing had changed.

As he started the engine, his phone rang. “It’s Sharp.”

He answered the call.

Sharp didn’t wait for a greeting. “Sheriff King wants to see us at the sheriff’s station. He actually threatened to arrest us if we’re not there in thirty minutes.”

“I’m on my way,” Lance said. “I’ll bring the lawyer.”

“Please do. I believe we’re going to need her.”





Chapter Thirty-Five

In the conference room at the sheriff’s station, Morgan kept a hand on Lance’s arm. On her other side, Sharp held his injured arm close and shifted in his chair as if he couldn’t get comfortable.

“I’m trying to solve a murder. Why are you competing with me?” The sheriff paced the narrow space between the table and the wall. “Especially you.” He pointed at Lance. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your father?”

“Of course we do,” Morgan answered, afraid of what Lance might say.

“I went to see Abigail Wright at the Roadside Motel. I asked her for the motel registry for August 10, 1994. Guess what she told me? That you already took it!” The sheriff turned and flattened both hands on the conference table. “This is an active murder case. I should arrest all three of you for impeding an investigation.”

Morgan met his gaze without blinking. “But we might all be more successful if we worked together rather than running parallel investigations.”

“You took evidence from the motel.” The sheriff’s words were measured, as if he was working to keep his voice level.

“And we fully intended to turn it over to you,” Morgan said, producing the large paper envelope from her tote. “Inside you’ll find both the hotel registry and the registration form for Mr. Joshua.”

“Why did you take it?” King asked.

“At the rate potential witnesses are dying, we thought the registry might not be safe at the motel,” Morgan said.

The sheriff snorted. He didn’t believe her.

“We think Crystal Fox was murdered,” Sharp said.

“The preliminary autopsy results are inconclusive.” The sheriff lowered his bulk into his chair and dragged a yellow legal pad in front of him.

Sharp folded his hands. “The Scarlet Falls PD is investigating Jenny Kruger’s supposed suicide attempt as a potential attempted murder.”

“I heard about her overdose.” Sheriff King’s gaze shifted to Lance. “How is your mother?”

Lance lifted a shoulder. “Her condition is still critical.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The sheriff frowned, picked up a pencil, and made a note on his legal pad. “She seems like a nice lady.”

Sharp outlined the inconsistencies at Jenny’s house. “Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental to have two suicides in the same number of days, both associated with Mary Fox’s case? And what about P. J. Hoolihan and his wife? P. J. knew Mary. Was P. J. tending the bar on the night of August 10? Do you really think they died in a bungled burglary?”

“I never said I did.” The sheriff leaned closer to the table, slid the register out of the envelope, and opened it. “Save me some time. What am I looking for?”

“Brian Leed was Mary’s client and he went by the name Mr. Joshua,” Morgan said. “Mr. Joshua was with Mary on August 10 at the motel.”

The sheriff snapped his pencil in half.

“Brian Leed lied about his whereabouts the night Vic disappeared,” Morgan said. “He wasn’t with Stan. He was with Mary. Brian told us that he dropped Mary off at PJ’s around eight p.m.”

“Hell.” The sheriff scribbled on his note pad with the broken pencil stub. “Is anyone telling the truth?”

“We also learned there was a bar fight on that night.” Sharp jerked a thumb toward the door. “And that a man died in the holding cell.”

The sheriff held up a hand. “Wait. Now you think a bar fight is related to Mary’s murder?”

“We’re exploring all options,” Morgan said. “We don’t have any evidence to link the bar fight to Mary, other than it happened at PJ’s the night Vic went missing, and she was likely there at the time.”

“I’ll look into it.” The sheriff wrote a note and circled it. Then laid his pencil down.

“We’d like a copy of those three arrest reports from the bar fight,” Sharp said.

“No!” The sheriff slammed a hand down on the table. The pencil halves jumped. “Stay away from this case. Do you remember what happened the last time you stuck your noses in a dangerous situation?” King paused for two heartbeats. “I had to come in and save your butts.”