Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(78)

Morgan opened the vehicle door and spoke over the roof. “We have to let Sharp know where we’re going. Someone needs to keep tabs on us.”

“Fair enough.”

“And we will take every other reasonable precaution. One step at a time tonight, OK?” She would ask him to proceed carefully, but she wouldn’t demand he walk away. If it was her family at risk, she would be unstoppable too.

A defeated sigh hissed from him. “OK.”

“We’re not going to do anything dangerous.” But she recognized the words as ridiculous even as they tumbled from her cold lips. “I love you.”

They were on their way to question a potential killer.





Chapter Forty

Lance sent messages to Brody and Sharp.

“Are you all right?” Morgan reached across the console and offered her hand.

He took it. In a world of uncertainty, filled with lies and betrayal, what she offered him was pure. He’d been a crazy man to even think about turning away her love.

She loves me.

When this was all over, he was going to process that. For now, he had to keep swimming forward so he didn’t sink.

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“You look angry.”

“I am angry.” His jaw was so tight, he could crack walnuts in his molars. “My father went missing, and everyone was so concerned for themselves, they lied to the police and possibly hindered the investigation.”

“I know,” Morgan said. “But you won’t get any information out of Stan if you’re too confrontational.”

“How about I hold him out a window by his ankles? That might convince him to cooperate.”

Morgan squeezed his fingers. “Let’s make that Plan B. Plan A is to get him to talk without violence.”

But if Stan had anything to do with his father’s disappearance or the attempt to kill his mother . . .

“I won’t drag you into anything dangerous,” he said. “I love your girls too much to risk their mother’s life. Call Stan and get him to meet us somewhere public.”

A public location would also keep Lance from beating the man into a pulp on the spot.

Morgan called Stan’s cell. She put him on speakerphone. “Hello, Mr. Adams. Lance Kruger and I have a few follow-up questions for you. Do you have some time this evening?”

“Not really,” Stan said, his words clipped. Other voices and background activity came over the line. “The firm is dealing with an issue tonight. Can it wait until morning?”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said. “It’s important.”

“Fine,” Stan said. “But you’ll have to come to my office.” He disconnected without saying goodbye.

Morgan drove out of the hospital parking lot. Her phone went off. She handed it to Lance. “It’s a message from Stella. Can you read it?”

He entered her passcode and read the message. “Stella says, WHERE ARE YOU? Do you want to answer her?”

“No.” Morgan sighed. “You told Brody what my grandfather found. She’ll figure out where we’re going.”

A few minutes later, the phone beeped with an incoming call.

Lance read the display on Morgan’s phone. “It’s your sister.”

“Don’t answer it,” Morgan said. “With her and Brody working your mother’s case, she has the power to order us away from Stan.”

He lowered her phone. “I’m sorry if this will cause tension between you and your sister.”

“It won’t be the first time.” Morgan turned left onto the main road. “You told Sharp where we were going?”

“Sent him a detailed message.”

“As long as someone knows.”

The accounting firm was located in a five-story office building, practically a high-rise in this rural community. Lance and Morgan went into the lobby and took the elevator to the fourth floor. The firm was small, two senior accountants, two juniors, and a handful of administrative staff, but their offices took up the entire fourth floor. Large silver letters spelled out ADAMS & BOOKER on the wall opposite the elevator bank.

In the boring black-and-gray reception area, Morgan handed her business card to the middle-aged brunette behind the desk. “We’re here to see Mr. Adams.”

Behind the receptionist, harried people bustled.

“Is he expecting you?” the brunette asked.

“Yes.” Morgan smiled.

Lance didn’t try to copy her. He was not capable of a putting on a friendly expression. He hung back and did his best to appear nonthreatening.

Based on the receptionist’s worried side-eye, he wasn’t successful.

She pointed to a hallway. “Second door on the left.”

Morgan stepped in front of Lance. Her glance back at him was worried, like he was going to do something violent. Lance wouldn’t, even though he might like to. He wanted answers.

He wanted the man who hurt his mother locked up.

He wanted to know what happened to his father.

He wanted justice.

Stan’s office door was open. Lance closed it after he and Morgan were inside. In khaki trousers and a blue button-down, Stan looked like he was headed for the golf course. He glanced up from his computer screen as they walked in. Standing, he extended his hand across the desk. Morgan and Lance shook his hand and sat in the two chairs facing his desk.