What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(17)

The newscaster looked equally serious as he held his microphone out for a deputy.

The deputy said, “The body of a female in her midtwenties was found this morning by hikers in a section of woods near the state park. We suspect foul play is involved in her death. Identification of the victim is pending notification of her next of kin. The sheriff’s office is investigating. That’s all for now. No questions.” With a nod and a lift of a hand, the detective stepped away from the mic.

“Could be Shannon Yates,” Lance suggested.

“Yes,” Morgan agreed. “She’s the right age.”

“The same age as Haley.”

Morgan sighed. “Young women are prime targets.” She nodded toward the other end of the hallway. “Do you know Eliza or Haley?”

“No.” Lance hadn’t even recognized their names, and he’d been close to Sharp for twenty-three years, ever since Sharp, then a police detective, had investigated the disappearance of Lance’s father. When Vic Kruger’s missing-persons case had gone cold, and Lance’s mother had spiraled into mental illness, Sharp had recognized that young Lance had needed someone to look out for him and had stepped up.

Morgan tilted her head. “Her appearance seems to have shaken him.”

“You noticed that too?” Lance glanced down the hall. Sharp had moved closer to Eliza, but his posture was stiff, as if he didn’t know where he stood with her. “You talked to Haley. Do you think she could have killed that boy?”

Morgan rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think so. She’s so young and frail-looking, but she was also distant . . . almost out of it. According to Colgate, she was found alone with the body, covered in blood. Her fingerprints were the only ones on the weapon, she’d been seen leaving the club with the victim the night before, and forensics recovered a used condom at the scene. The first thing she said to the responding deputy was ‘What have I done?’ None of these things make her look innocent.”

“But they don’t mean she wasn’t drugged and/or sexually assaulted.”

“No. They don’t.” Morgan frowned. “But that will be damned hard to prove without a positive drug screen or some physical evidence that she was raped, restrained, struck . . .” She paused, her fingertips squeezing the bridge of her nose. “It’s hard enough to get a rape conviction with physical evidence.”

“I know.”

She checked her watch, then took two more Tylenol from the bottle in her bag.

Rape cases were notoriously hard to prosecute. Evidence might be insufficient or could be interpreted in multiple ways. The brain needed time to process a traumatic event. Victims often got confused and then were accused of lying.

The door down the hall opened, and a nurse stepped out. Morgan and Lance hurried back. Morgan went into the room with Eliza.

The deputy took a call on his cell phone, backing away from the group but keeping his eyes on them.

Sharp tapped a foot. The crow’s feet around his eyes were more pronounced. Morgan was right. He was shaken, a rare occurrence.

“So how long has it been since you’ve seen Eliza?” Lance asked.

Sharp sighed. “Almost twenty-five years.”

“How old is Haley?”

“Twenty-five.” Lifting a hand, he added, “No. She’s not mine. Her father was my best friend back in the day. Ted died when Haley was just a baby.”

“Killed on the job?” Lance assumed.

Sharp looked away. “Yes.”

The faraway pain in Sharp’s eyes said there was much more to the story. “I’ll tell you all about it later, OK?”

“OK,” Lance agreed.

The door opened. Morgan and Eliza walked out. Haley followed, looking small and fragile as a baby bird. She could have passed for a teenager. Yoga pants, a loose sweater, and sneakers emphasized her slight frame. Her long red hair was pulled back into a pony tail. Morgan might have been the one with the bruised face, but Haley looked beaten. A true ginger, she had freckled skin so pale it seemed nearly translucent.

It might be sexist, but Lance had trouble picturing this slender young woman committing an act as violent as a stabbing.

Haley turned giant blue eyes on them. “What do I do now?” she asked in a timid voice.

The deputy stepped forward. He’d put his phone away. “Haley Powell, you are under arrest for the murder of Noah Carter.”

Lance had expected Haley to be arrested, but to have her handcuffed moments after the rape kit had been collected was a tough break.

“Turn around and extend your arms out at your sides,” the deputy instructed. “Turn your palms to me.”

Haley stood stock-still for a minute, trembling. Then she complied, her movements slow and halting. A single tear rolled down her cheek as the deputy handcuffed her. The look in her eyes was complete devastation. Though the deputy was professional, even gentle, as he took her into official custody, Lance couldn’t help but feel like the girl was being violated.

“It’ll be OK,” Morgan said. “You should be arraigned tomorrow morning. I’ll be there. You just have to get through the night. Do not talk to anyone about your case, not the jail personnel or other inmates. Other prisoners might try to use anything you tell them as bargaining chips in their own cases.”