Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(65)

“Superficially, he looked like Evan,” Lance said, his voice quiet.

The sheriff nodded, grim. “They were both dressed in jeans, sneakers, and black T-shirts.”

“That’s the standard teenage uniform.” Morgan blinked hard, trying to clear her tired eyes.

Colgate shuffled a few file folders on his desk and removed two photographs. One was of Evan. The second was another older teen with the same coloring and similar features.

Lance glanced at the photos and sighed, his chest heaving once.

Morgan scanned the images. “They would be easily confused in the rain and dark.”

“Or it was a coincidental accident,” the sheriff said.

“You can’t still believe Evan killed Paul?” Morgan asked. “Not after we found Brian’s severed fingers?”

The sheriff’s face flushed deep pink. “We have no evidence that Brian’s situation is related to Paul’s murder. Coincidences happen.” The sheriff folded his arms.

“Two of them?” Lance’s voice rose.

Morgan was too damned tired to argue with the bullheaded sheriff. She sat straighter and dropped her empty coffee cup in the trash can next to his desk. “If you don’t have any more questions tonight, we’d like to go home and get some sleep.”

“Go.” The sheriff waved them off. “But if you find any more information, I want a call immediately.”

Morgan nodded once, but she was careful not to make any verbal promises. They left the sheriff’s office and went out into the sticky evening air. Morgan lifted the neck of her blouse away from her body. “Could it get more humid?”

“Not without the air being liquid.” Lance glanced at the sky. “There’s another thunderstorm coming.”

“Maybe it will break the heat.” Morgan hopped into the Jeep.

Lance slid behind the wheel. “Home?”

“Yes. We both need sleep. We can’t function if we keep going at this pace.” Morgan glanced at Lance. Would he be able to sleep? “I know you’re worried.”

“We are running out of leads. Maybe some sleep will help.” Lance turned the Jeep toward home.

“One thing I’ve been thinking about,” Morgan said. “If the fingers belonged to Brian, then he’s not our killer. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t a cop, maybe another deputy, either active or retired.”

“That would explain how the killer gained entry to Paul’s house.”

“Paul let him in.” Morgan rubbed the back of her neck. “Would Paul have let Kirk in?”

“Maybe.” Lance steered the Jeep through an intersection. “Kirk is Evan’s father. Tina said that Paul liked to take care of her. Maybe he thought he could talk Kirk out of being an asshole.”

“I think that’s a permanent affliction.” Morgan smiled.

“Seems like.”

Twenty minutes later, thunder rumbled and rain began to fall as they parked in front of the house. Morgan whipped a travel umbrella out of her bag. Opening the car door a few inches, she stuck it through the gap and pressed the button.

Lance shook his head. “Is there anything you don’t keep in that bag? You’re like Mary Poppins.”

They’d watched the movie four times when the kids had been sick.

“I like to be prepared.” Morgan stepped out of the Jeep. Shoving the door closed with her foot, she jogged to the front porch and unlocked the door. Lance followed her inside.

The house was dark. She’d called home hours before to let everyone know they’d be late. Morgan set her umbrella by the door and removed her shoes. Lance left his wet boots by the front door too. They walked with quiet steps down the hall. She opened the girls’ bedroom door and poked her head into the room. All three kids were asleep. Morgan eased the door closed and continued to the bedroom that she now shared with Lance.

She washed up, put on her pajamas, and crawled into bed. Lance had changed into his pajama bottoms and doubled his pillows. Bare chested, he reclined against the headboard, looking at his phone.

Morgan slid into bed. “Anything important?”

“No.” Lance plugged the charging cord into his phone.

Morgan did the same. “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Let’s sleep now. We’ll worry tomorrow.”

Morgan knew he was saying that for her benefit. She was the one who slept when she was depressed or stressed. Lance was the opposite. But she was too tired to argue. She rolled closer and closed her eyes. Remembering his vanishing act the previous night, she threw a leg over one of his to make sure he didn’t disappear.





Chapter Twenty-Six

Lance cracked one eyelid. He felt like he’d just closed his eyes. What was that smell?

“I frew up,” a tiny voice said in the darkness. Sophie stood next to the bed, her face teary. The unmistakable odor of vomit wafted from her.

“Poor baby.” Morgan climbed out of bed on the other side. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Where did you get sick?”

“In my bed.” Sophie sniffed.

Morgan took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom.

The mattress shifted as Lance stood. “Got it.”