Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(80)

“I have nothing else to say.” Stan gestured toward the door. “Please leave. Don’t come back.”

“We won’t.” Lance stood. “The next person you’ll be talking to is the sheriff.”

Lance couldn’t wait to sic Sheriff King on Stan.

Morgan held him by the arm all the way out the door. Lance didn’t remember taking the elevator or walking across the lobby. The next thing he knew, the cold air was slapping him in the face.

“He was lying.” Lance headed for his Jeep. “He wasn’t home alone.”

“Probably not,” Morgan agreed. “What was Stan doing that was worth lying to the police about? And how do we find out where he was twenty-three years later?”

“He wasn’t married, so he wasn’t hiding a woman.” Lance put a hand on the door handle and talked over the roof of the Jeep. “Maybe he was with a married woman.”

“Maybe, but after all these years, would he still lie about that?” Morgan asked. “In my mind, he was doing something illegal, something that might still affect his life if the truth came out.”





Chapter Forty-One

Morgan settled in the driver’s seat, the steering wheel freezing under her hands. “If Stan has an alibi for today, he couldn’t have been at the hospital.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Lance’s breath fogged in front of his face like a personal storm cloud. “He’s lying about the night my dad disappeared. I’ve no reason to believe anything else he says.”

“But he has witnesses for today,” Morgan pointed out.

“He has employees who will say what he wants them to say. The hospital is a fifteen-minute drive from here. He could have slipped out and done the deed. With driving time, it would have taken less than an hour. The receptionist must take a lunch break.”

“I still feel like we’re missing something.” Morgan drummed her fingers on the wheel. “Our only suspects are Brian and Stan, yet both had alibis for at least some of the recent murders.”

“What if they were working together?” Lance asked. “Their original false alibi was joint.”

“It’s possible. But what was their motivation? If Brian killed Mary because she was going to tell his wife, how did Stan get involved?”

“Brian called him for help disposing of the body,” Lance suggested.

“It’s possible, but I feel like we’re still missing a key piece of information.” The theory wasn’t ringing true to Morgan. “It’s one thing to cover for your pal, but quite another to help him commit murder.”

“And it doesn’t explain what happened to my father.” Lance closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with both hands.

“Unless Vic saw Brian kill Mary.”

“And my father wouldn’t help them cover it up.” Lance dropped his hands into his lap. “Even though I know Brian and Stan both lied, I still have a hard time believing they would have killed my father.”

“What do we do?” Morgan asked.

“We get comfortable.” Lance cracked his neck. “I have no ideas other than good old-fashioned surveillance. Stan is our best lead at this point. I want to stick with him and see where he goes after work.” He glanced at Morgan. “He might be late. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.” Morgan glanced sideways.

Lance seemed to have gotten his temper under control, but she didn’t trust him to go off on his own.

She reached behind the seat for her tote and pulled it onto her lap. Unzipping it, she dug for the case file and handed it to Lance. “Stan drives a black Mercedes. Let’s find it in case he goes out the back door.”

Lance read off the license plate number. Morgan started the engine and turned on the heat. She drove the Jeep up and down the rows until they spotted Stan’s car. She parked in the darkest spot she could find several rows away.

Turning off the engine, she fished her leftover candy bar from her bag. She tore the wrapper and waved it at him. “Want half?”

He shook his head. “Don’t eat that.”

Too late.

She chewed and swallowed. “It has peanuts in it. Nuts are healthy.”

Lance was always prepared for an impromptu stakeout. He kept his Jeep stocked with emergency supplies. He opened the console and took out two protein bars. From a bag behind his seat, he removed two water bottles and offered her one.

She took it but didn’t open it. Who knew how long they’d have to wait? After three pregnancies, it was safest to minimize fluid intake on stakeouts of indeterminate length.

She fished gloves from her pockets and turned up her collar. He handed her a protein bar, but she put it aside as well. The chocolate would keep her going for a while. It could be a long night. They’d have to ration their supplies. She settled lower in her seat. Lance did the same.

Time passed with a creeping slowness that reminded her of Salvador Dali’s melting clocks.

Just after eleven p.m., Stan exited the building.

Morgan perked up. “There he is.”

Hunching his shoulders against the wind, Stan hustled across the parking lot and slid into his Mercedes. The headlights turned on. A minute later, he drove out of the lot.

Morgan followed him. With the roads nearly deserted, she eased off the accelerator and stayed well back. When Stan turned into his development, she drove past, then turned around to double back.