The bedroom was bright with daylight when Lance woke. He rolled over to find the bed next to him empty and cold. For a few seconds, he wondered if he’d dreamed making love with Morgan. But her scent on the pillow next to him assured him it had happened. The memory gave him a rush of lust, quickly doused with concern.
Where was she? Why wasn’t she in bed?
He stepped into his sweatpants and padded barefoot into the living room. Morgan sat on his couch, the case files spread across his coffee table. He glanced at the clock. Eight a.m. He’d slept maybe four hours.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked. He was still groggy. She’d slept even less than he had over the past few days.
“I did. I’ve only been up about an hour.” Over the dark circles, her eyes were bright with interest. She wore his sweatpants and T-shirt, and her hair tumbled around her face in a tousled wave that made him want to scoop her up and take her back to bed. Even if it was just to make her sleep.
But he recognized the dog-on-a-scent look on her face. There was no way she was going back to bed. She was onto something.
He sat down next to her on the sofa. “What did you find?”
“At least one thing that doesn’t add up already.” She shuffled a few pages. “Chelsea escaped from her prison through a hole in the roof. I don’t remember seeing a hole in the roof of that trailer last night. Plus, Chelsea never mentioned a bloody mattress in the container.”
“Maybe the police will find a shipping container somewhere on the property. I hate to say it, but the Burns brothers could have had multiple places they held women.” Lance stood. “I need food. I can’t think straight. I’m making eggs. I can’t make you sleep, but you will eat. We have to go to the sheriff’s office today.”
“Oh, joy.”
“Hopefully, he’ll have some information about what they found at the scene overnight.”
“But will he share it with us?” Morgan asked.
“Stranger things have happened,” Lance said. “I’m hoping some of his attitude was for show. Secretly, he has to be at least relieved that we found Karen Mitchell, and hopefully, the Burns brothers also killed Sarah Bernard, kidnapped Chelsea Clark, and broke in to your house.”
“I’ll feel better if Chelsea’s DNA turns up in that trailer or somewhere else on the property.”
“Me too.” Lance went into the kitchen. He scrambled half a dozen eggs with olive oil, basil, and spinach, and then toasted four slices of the organic, gluten-free oat bread Morgan’s kids had refused to touch. He brewed a pot of strong green tea and piled the food onto two plates.
“Here.” He set a plate in front of Morgan.
She pushed it aside. “Thank you.”
Lance put the plate back in front of her. “Stop working and eat before you make yourself sick.”
“You’re right.” She leaned back and lifted the fork from the plate. “What’s the green stuff?”
“Spinach. You need the vitamins.” Did he sound exactly like Sharp? Yes. Yes, he did.
That was what happened when you cared about someone. And he definitely cared about Morgan.
He loved her. Was she ready to hear that?
Probably not.
She finished her food. Lance put the dirty plates in the sink and brought her a cup of green tea.
“Thanks.” She sipped without looking up from the page she was reading, then froze and looked up at him in horror. “You really don’t have coffee? I mean I looked for it earlier, but I assumed you’d have an emergency stash somewhere.”
“Sorry. Sharp purged my kitchen of everything he considered to be a ‘toxic’ substance over the summer. He practically needed a dumpster. I’m lucky I saved the whiskey.”
“I would never have parted with my coffee machine.”
“I can hardly argue with his lifestyle. It healed me.” Lance took his place on the couch next to her and drank his tea. She was right. It was a sad substitute when proper rest wasn’t an option. “We’ll stop for coffee on the way to the sheriff’s office.”
“Damned straight.”
“Hand me a few files. Let’s see if we’ve overlooked anything else.”
They passed files back and forth. A few hours later, Morgan said, “This can’t be right.”
He pressed his shoulder to hers. “What?”
She sifted through her mound of files. Opening one, she flipped through the pages of one of her meticulous files. Her fingertip slid down a page and stopped. She started reassembling her files. “We need to check with the sheriff.”
“What did you find?”
“It’s not what I found, but what I didn’t find.” She opened a file. “This is the list of Speed Net employees Elliot Pagano gave us.”
“OK. We checked them all out. They were all clean except Kirk Armani. Did you find something else on him?”
“No. But Elliot didn’t include his brother, Derek, on this list.”
“Maybe he forgot to include his family?”
Morgan shook her head. “His mother and father are here, and so is every member of Tim’s team. The janitor is even listed. But not Derek. I’d like to ask the sheriff if Derek is included on his list. It’s probably just an oversight.” She reached for her cell phone, frowned when the call went to voice mail, and left a message.
“Considering the scope of last night’s crime scene, the sheriff might still be there. Or he’s interviewing Harold Burns,” Lance said. “Either way, he’ll call back. We should drive over to my mom’s house. She’ll make quick work of Derek Pagano’s background.”
“OK. I need to stop at the office for my laptop. I have clothes there too.” Morgan stretched.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower. Then we can go to the office.” Lance headed toward his bedroom. He glanced back at her, all tousled and gorgeous. “The sheriff still hasn’t returned your call. Want to join me?”
Her smile brightened her eyes. “I do.”
The shower wasn’t as quick as he’d intended. But the extra time was well spent.
Very well spent.
An hour later, Morgan still looked tired, but her posture was much more relaxed as they headed to Sharp Investigations. She changed her clothes and grabbed her computer. Lance made protein shakes, but Morgan still insisted they stop for coffee. He went through the drive-through, succumbing to the smells emanating from the coffee shop and ordering one for himself. He handed her the vat she’d ordered, and she nearly purred when she sipped it.
The sun was high over the trees as they drove to Lance’s mother’s house. Morgan slung her bag over her shoulder and carried her giant coffee up the walk. Lance followed. A bark greeted them as they went inside. Rocket rushed into the foyer and butted Morgan’s legs with her head. Morgan leaned down and stroked the dog’s head.
“I’ve been thinking.” Sharp appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You should take her home with you. She likes kids, and that little purse pup of yours is worthless as a watchdog.”
“But she’s your dog.” Morgan straightened.