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?”
Lance’s face brightened. “We most certainly did.”
“What?” Excitement over a potential lead cleared Morgan’s head even more.
“Dog hair.” Lance grinned. “Black dog hair. Found on the collar of Noah’s T-shirt. The lab is testing for the specific breed. But guess who has a black dog?”
Morgan hadn’t seen the dog, but from the look on Lance’s face, he could only be talking about one person. “Kieran Hart?”
“Yes.” Lance clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels.
“That’s a pretty damned good lead.” Morgan scraped up a few drops of soup remaining in the bottom of the bowl.
Lance nodded. “Do we call the sheriff first or go ambush Kieran with the information?”
Morgan pushed the empty bowl away. “I know you like Sheriff Colgate, Sharp, but I already have multiple calls in to him. He is simply ignoring us.”
“Yes, he is,” Sharp agreed. “Colgate is a straight shooter, but he’s in way over his head.”
“So you vote for ambushing Hart?” Lance smiled.
“Yes.” Morgan drank her tea. “The sheriff hasn’t responded to my previous messages. He will not be able to claim we withheld information.”
Lance nodded. “Finish your tea, then we’ll go pester Kieran about his alibi.”
They would not mention the dog hair. There was no reason to tip their hand to Kieran.
“I’m heading to the pub to see what the boys know about Noah’s murder case.” Sharp picked up Morgan’s empty bowl and left the room.
Sharp was the youngest of his retired cop friends, but he referred to the group affectionately as the boys. They gossiped more than any women Morgan knew.
“I’ll bring my tea with me.” Morgan poured her tea into a stainless steel travel mug. “Do you know where Kieran is?”
Lance whipped out his phone. “Let’s find out.” Three calls later, he smiled. “He’s in the family trust office this afternoon. Do we want to talk to him there or go to Justin’s house now and wait to see Kieran at home later?”
“He’s going to be angry.” Morgan put on her coat and gathered her bag. “His office would be more public. He likely has surveillance cameras and other employees there.”
Lance walked out of the room. He reappeared in a few seconds wearing a jacket. “You’re right. His mansion is private. It would be too easy for him to kill us and have his majordomo dispose of our bodies.”
“I was thinking about the dog. You already have holes in your pants and boot. I’d rather not have them in your person.”
“Excellent point. The office it is.”
They went outside and climbed into the sedan. Lance drove toward the interstate. A few miles down the highway, he took the exit for Route 32. In three-quarters of a mile, the GPS prompted that they’d reached their destination, a four-story office building made of green-tinted glass.
They went into the lobby. Morgan read the directory. “Fourth floor.”
They rode the elevator and stepped out. Gold block letters on a glass door spelled HART FAMILY TRUST.
Lance held the door open, and Morgan led the way inside. The office was larger than she’d anticipated.
A slim, blonde woman sat at a black lacquer and glass reception desk. She wore a navy-blue sheath dress, heels, and pearls. Behind her, a half dozen employees manned phones and computers at open workstations. Morgan and Lance crossed a few yards of thick gray carpeting and stopped in front of the blonde.
She greeted Morgan with a cool smile but gave Lance a not-so-cool once-over and lifted a haughty brow at him. “May I help you?”
“We’d like to see Kieran Hart.” Morgan reached into her pocket for a business card. She could have been invisible, because the blonde completely ignored her.
“Allow me.” Lance handed his card across the desk.
The blonde glanced at it. “Do you have an appointment, Mr. Kruger?”
“No. But Mr. Hart will want to see us.” Lance smiled at her.
She smiled back. “Then I’ll tell him you’re here.” She stood and pivoted. She treated Lance to plenty of hip sway as she sashayed toward her boss’s office. In case he didn’t know the performance was for his benefit, she glanced over her shoulder and sent him a heated look before she knocked on the door and went inside.
Lance leaned close to Morgan’s ear. “You want to roll your eyes, don’t you?”
“So much,” Morgan said under her breath. But she couldn’t blame the woman. Lance, with his chiseled face and jacked body, attracted plenty of female attention.
The blonde emerged a few minutes later. A harried frown replaced her sexy attitude. “You can go in now.”
Kieran was no doubt a difficult boss, and he was likely not thrilled about their visit.
Morgan led the way into Kieran’s office. He sat behind a huge black desk, his features fixed in a neutral expression. A low growl pulled Morgan’s gaze to the giant black-and-brown dog that sat next to him. The irony of the dog’s presence was not lost on her. The dog locked its attention on Lance. Its lips peeled away from its giant white canines.
Morgan felt confident handling Kieran, but a 120-pound Rottweiler with a head the size of a bear’s made her hands sweat. She was a dog lover, but the giant black beast did not look friendly.
Kieran stroked the dog’s back. Like the dog, his focus was locked on Lance. “It seems that Luther doesn’t like you. I can’t imagine why.”
“Me either.” Lance’s tone was bland.
Morgan wiped a palm on her thigh. How fast could that dog get across the office? Too fast.
Next to her, Lance’s hand flexed next to his weapon.