Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(58)

“Could be Brian Springer’s brother.” Morgan plugged the address into the map app on her phone. “It’s about thirty minutes away.”

“Let’s go.” Lance stepped on the gas pedal, and the car accelerated.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Lance pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and studied the digital map on his phone. His Jeep was a blue dot on the single road that cut through a huge swath of green. “The GPS says we’re here, but I don’t see a house or a driveway.”

Morgan turned her head to look behind the Jeep. “According to the information your mother sent, the property comprises two hundred acres and includes a stretch of waterfront. How far are we from the lake?”

Lance zoomed out on the map. The lake appeared as a huge blue area. He touched the screen. “Here.”

“It’s just on the other side of these woods.” Morgan frowned at the map. “If you own lakefront property, you build your house both with a view of the water and access to the road. Keep crawling along. There must be a driveway or private road that cuts through to the lake.”

He eased off the brake and let the Jeep roll forward. The trees were thick and green with summer foliage. Lance couldn’t see very far into the woods.

A quarter of a mile down the road, Morgan tapped his shoulder and pointed to a gap in the trees. “What’s that?”

Tree branches partially concealed a narrow dirt lane. Lance made the turn. The lane was rutted and muddy, and Lance kept the Jeep’s speed slow. The narrow road ended in a clearing. A log cabin hunkered at the rear of the cleared space. Behind it, the lake stretched out as far as he could see. The day was still, and the overcast sky had turned the water into a mirror.

He turned the Jeep to face the lane in case they needed to make a quick exit.

“There’s no vehicle here.” Morgan scanned the clearing. “But I see tire tracks that look fairly recent.”

“Someone has been here since Tuesday morning’s storm.” Lance took his flashlight and camera from the glove compartment and stuffed them into his cargo pants pockets. His phone took decent pictures, but it didn’t have optical zoom or produce the same quality images as his digital 35mm. “Are you ready?”

Morgan changed into her boots. “Yes.”

They stepped out of the Jeep. He could smell the pines and the mossy scent of the lake. Mud sucked at his feet as they crossed the clearing. He surveyed their surroundings. The storm had knocked small branches and leaves on the moss-covered ground in front of the cabin. The lot was heavily wooded, with dense foliage that would provide excellent cover should someone be watching them. A squirrel scurried up a nearby pine tree. Overhead, a hawk glided in a lazy circle.

They walked up three wooden steps to a rough porch. He stood behind the doorframe. Morgan did the same on the other side. He knocked. No one answered.

Moving to a window, Morgan cupped her hands over her eyes. “I don’t see anyone inside.”

Lance knocked again. Hearing nothing but forest sounds, he pulled a small leather case from his pocket and took out two small tools.

“You’re breaking and entering into a cop’s vacation cabin?” Morgan sighed.

“It’s his brother’s place, not his.” Lance took a pair of gloves from his pocket and tugged them on. Then he dangled a second pair in front of Morgan’s face. “If Evan’s life weren’t at stake, I wouldn’t do this.”

Probably.

“I know.” She took the gloves.

Morgan had a black-and-white, right-versus-wrong sense of justice. Breaking the law bothered her. Lance’s moral code was slightly more flexible. A simple B and E wouldn’t keep him up at night.

He tried the knob. “The door is unlocked. So technically, we’ll just be entering.”

“We’re not even sure this is the right place.” She glanced at the driveway, then waved a gnat away from her face.

“We’ll know soon.” He pushed the door open and sniffed. “I don’t smell a rotting corpse, but there’s something in the air.”

Morgan followed him in. “I smell mold, which isn’t unusual for a waterfront property, but there’s something else.” She inhaled deeper, her nose wrinkling. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s unpleasant.”

Lance sniffed. Under the must, the air smelled faintly like the locker room at the ice rink. Lance was always riding the team to clean their gear, but teenage boys being what they were . . .

“It’s sweat.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Morgan agreed.

The front door opened directly into a large great room. The kitchen was sized to accommodate large groups, with a generous center island and a table that seated eight. In the adjoining living area, a giant U-shaped sectional couch faced a wood-burning fireplace. The floors were wide-planked golden pine, and the walls were rough-hewn logs. Huge windows in both rooms faced the lake.

With Morgan at his left flank, Lance gave the house a thorough look-through to ensure they were alone. There were three bedrooms and two full baths on the first floor. A staircase in the back hall led to two additional bedrooms separated by a full bath. The upstairs bedrooms each held two sets of bunk beds. He crouched to check under beds and opened the closets. Morgan went into the Jack-and-Jill bath. Lance heard a door being opened and the scraping sound of a shower curtain being pushed aside.