With a quick look at Morgan and Lance, the sheriff added, “Maybe.”
The sheriff was holding back. Morgan searched his face. He had more information than he was giving them.
“How long until we know?” Tim asked in a too quiet voice.
“Worst case scenario, we have to wait for a DNA analysis, which could take weeks. But it’s possible we’ll know much sooner.” Could the sheriff be any more vague? But then again, maybe he had good reason.
The police had Chelsea’s fingerprints. The body must have been in bad shape if the sheriff wasn’t sure that they could be compared. Rodents sometimes nibbled on fingertips. Bears and coyotes dismembered and disseminated bodies. The medical examiner might not even have all of the remains. While Morgan believed in being honest with her client, Tim didn’t need to know any of these things. Not yet, anyway. If the body was positively ID’d as Chelsea, then he’d learn all the gruesome details. Until then, what was the point in causing him more distress?
“Oh, no.” Tim started for the door. “I have to get home before Rand and Patricia see this on the news.”
Her parents would be devastated.
What were the chances that the body of another blonde woman would turn up the same week that Chelsea disappeared?
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan bristled as they passed four news vans parked in front of Tim’s house.
Damn it!
This is not how Chelsea’s parents should have heard about the body being found. The sheriff should have driven out to the house to tell Tim and Chelsea’s parents instead of dragging Tim down to the station. Rand and Patricia deserved more respect than finding out via the news.
“Looks like the press found out about the body,” Lance said. “The days of carefully controlled press conferences are over. There’s more pressure to be first than there is to be accurate.”
“I should have called them,” Tim said.
“You did what you thought was best,” Morgan said.
“You know what they say about good intentions,” Tim replied.
Lance parked, and the three of them got out of the Jeep and walked up the driveway. A dozen reporters smoothed their hair and touched up their makeup. Cameramen and sound techs set up equipment.
“There he is!” someone yelled. “Tim!”
A reporter lunged at him. A microphone was thrust into his face. Lance shouldered the reporter out of the way, but a dozen bodies pushed forward.
Angry, Morgan leaned over and spoke in Tim’s ear. “Don’t answer any questions in this format. Try to ignore them.”
But the barrage came from all sides. Morgan and Lance flanked Tim, trying to shield him, but his hands were shaking by the time they reached the top of the driveway.
Then the front door opened, and everyone froze. Chelsea’s father stepped outside, his face set in a stony mask of despair. Three seconds ticked by as everyone simply stared. Then the moment of silence passed, and reporters turned away from Tim and rushed for Rand. His eyes were watery and red-rimmed. His body swayed as if he was barely able to stay on his feet.
He knew.
Tim walked closer, through the gauntlet of cameras and eager bodies.
Morgan pushed through the throng. “Excuse me.”
A reporter stumbled back as she elbowed him aside and fought her way up the three steps toward Rand.
“My wife and I just learned that the body of a young woman was found in the state park.” Rand’s jaw shifted. Muscles tensed in a face taut enough to shatter. “Until we hear otherwise, we will not simply assume this woman is our daughter. We will continue to look for her, and we hope the sheriff’s department will do the same.”
Morgan stopped dead. She didn’t have the heart to interrupt.
A reporter thrust a microphone in front of Rand. “Are you saying you don’t have confidence in the sheriff’s investigation?”
Bitterness glinted in Rand’s misty eyes. “He hasn’t found anything, has he? Hikers found this poor woman.”
Another reporter turned back to Tim. “Mr. Clark, do you think the woman who was found is your wife?”
Tim choked.
Morgan grabbed the microphone and pulled it to her. “We’re still waiting on word from the medical examiner. There’s no value in speculating at this point.”
Another newsman confronted Tim. “The sheriff’s office refuses to clear you as a suspect. How do you feel about that, Mr. Clark?”
Again, Morgan redirected the mic from Tim’s face to her own. “Mr. Clark simply wants the sheriff’s department to find his wife. He supports the sheriff’s efforts to conduct a thorough investigation. Tim has never been accused of having anything to do with his wife’s disappearance.”
Next to her, Tim cleared his throat. “I just want my wife to come home. I don’t care about anything else.”
He walked up the steps toward his front door like a zombie.
“Tim’s right,” Rand said in a stiff voice. “We won’t rest until we’ve brought Chelsea home. Which is why we’re offering a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information that leads to finding Chelsea.”
Morgan snapped to attention.
Questions burst from the media.
“Is there a hotline number?”
“Can tips be given anonymously?”
“Do you have details on that reward?”
“Is the offer still valid if she’s dead?”
Cold bastard!
Rand flinched at the question.
Morgan slid forward and gently eased in front of him. If she’d known he was thinking about offering a reward, she would have tried to persuade him to talk to the sheriff first. Rewards could be helpful, but they could also muddy the investigation. But the offer was out there. No way to take it back. All she could do was manage the fallout. “Details about the reward will be forthcoming from the sheriff’s department.”
“If the body is identified as Chelsea, then what happens to the money?”
Enough!
Tim stiffened and reached for the nearest microphone. “Please. My family is going through the hardest time of our lives. We ask that you pray for us. And if anyone has any information that might help find my wife, please call the sheriff’s department. Please help us bring Chelsea home, and if you don’t have any information, then we ask that you respect our privacy.”
With that, Tim turned and herded his father-in-law back into the house. Closing the door, he looked out through the narrow window next to the door.
Morgan repeated her statement about the reward. Lance stayed at her side, his body tense, his eyes scanning the group, looking for threats. When she was finished, Morgan ignored follow-up questions. They went inside, hoping the reporters would be satisfied enough to leave.
They found Rand hunched over the kitchen table.
His gaze met Morgan’s. “I’m sorry if I messed up. I wasn’t thinking. We saw the news about the body on Facebook. Patricia almost fainted.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Tim sighed. “I was trying to get back in time to tell you in person. I didn’t want you to find out that way.”
“It’s not your fault. It would have been a shock no matter how the news was delivered.” Rand’s shoulders hunched as if unable to bear the weight of the day.