What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(75)

“That’s what I would do if I were them.” Lance turned the car around.

Morgan’s phone pinged with an incoming email. She read the display. “Let’s stop at the office. A forensic report just came in.”

Lance drove into town and cruised past what had been his home.

Caution tape and barricades blocked off his lot. Smoke curled from the burned-out shell that had been his house. One fire truck still sat out front, no doubt waiting for the ashes to stop smoldering.

“Oh, my God, Lance.” Morgan pressed a palm to her chest. Emotions clogged her throat. The bed he’d been sleeping in was in that pile of charred debris. “When I think you were in there . . .”

She’d known at the hospital that he could have died, but seeing the evidence was a slap of reality. He was very lucky to be alive. Gratefulness filled her. She was lucky he was alive.

Lance reached for her hand. “It didn’t look like that when I was in it.”

“With multiple points of origin, it must have gone up very quickly.”

“Let’s go to work.” Lance put the car in gear. “This is just a house. Haley’s life is much more important.”

But the investigation was dragging them into dangerous places. Again. But then, what did she expect? They were pursuing a killer, who presumably didn’t want to be caught.

Lance cruised the six blocks to the office. Sharp’s Prius was parked out front when they arrived. They went inside and found him in the kitchen brewing tea.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” Sharp rubbed his palms together. “Want to know what I learned from Callie Fisher?”

“I hope it’s a break in the case. We really need one of those.” Morgan deposited her coat and bag on a chair and eased into the next seat.

“It might be more than one.” Sharp bounced on his toes with more energy than he’d shown in days.

Lance leaned on the wall. “What did she say?”

“One, Noah liked to give her extra booze, and two, his brother, Adam, sounds like a psychopath.” Sharp poured three cups of green tea while he gave them the details on his interview.

Then Lance filled Sharp in on his mother’s report.

Sharp studied Morgan’s face. “You should take a cat nap.”

Morgan realized she must still look terrible, because Sharp placed an organic oatmeal cookie on a plate and laid it next to her. She blew across the steaming cup of tea to cool it. “A forensic report just came in. The trace evidence has been processed.”

“Lance and I can read through it.” Sharp’s jaw set. “This is a team effort.”

Morgan wanted to argue, but the throbbing of her head stopped her. “You’re right. I’ll close my eyes for twenty minutes.”

Sharp’s brows dropped. “You’re not arguing?”

She nibbled on the cookie. “If I rest for a little while, I’ll be more useful in the long run.”

Morgan walked into Sharp’s office and stretched out on the couch. Her eyelids slammed shut as soon as she was horizontal. When she opened them, a glance at her phone told her that someone had turned off the alarm she’d set for twenty minutes. Nearly two hours had passed. She sat upright, annoyed. But the pain in her head had been replaced with grogginess.

She stopped in the kitchen to reheat her tea in the microwave and grab another cookie. She found her partners in her office. Lance sat behind her desk reading his laptop. Sharp had spread out printed pages on the opposite side of the desk.

When she walked in, he put the cap on his yellow highlighter. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” she admitted as she took a bite of the cookie.

“You need something to eat. Be right back.” Sharp bustled out of the room.

Lance got up from behind the desk and gestured to it. “I need to pace anyway.”

Morgan took her place in her chair.

Sharp carried a steaming bowl back into her office and set it in front of her. “Chicken soup.”

“Thank you.” Morgan inhaled. Her stomach rumbled. “Did you make this?”

“Yes.” Sharp looked offended. “Do you think I’d feed you something processed?”

“No, of course not.” She lifted the spoon to her lips. “I just didn’t know when you had the time.”

“It was in my freezer.” Sharp dropped into the chair facing her desk.

She savored the soup. “Have you talked to Eliza today?”

“Yes,” Sharp said. “Haley had a bad reaction to the medication the psychiatrist prescribed.”

“What kind of a reaction?” Morgan asked.

“She was dizzy.” Sharp ran a hand through his short hair. “Probably low blood pressure caused by her Addison’s disease. The doctor prescribed a different medicine. Eliza said she did sleep last night, though.”

“That’s something,” Morgan said.

Sharp rubbed his eyes. “Yes, but Eliza is worried about any potential reactions to the new meds. I’m going to stay there tonight so Eliza can get a decent night of sleep.”

“That’s good.” Morgan dipped her spoon in the bowl again. “Haley needs more than just a bodyguard. She needs emotional support.”

Cheered by less pain in her head and more food in her belly, Morgan ate the entire bowl in five minutes. “Did you find anything while I was sleeping?”