“I’m glad you’re here,” Morgan said. “I really need to speak with you both.”
“In that case, let’s go into my office. I have actual chairs.” Sharp stepped back and gestured across the hall. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she said.
Sharp ushered Morgan into his office. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the kitchen.
Lance settled in the chair next to Morgan. Back in the kitchen, water rushed and an igniter on the stove clicked.
Morgan turned to Lance. “I don’t want to spring anything on you. If you’d rather we talk in private . . .”
Lance stopped her. “It’s fine. You can say anything in front of Sharp.” He paused, briefly considering that he wanted to share the intimate details of his past with her and what that implied. “Did I ever tell you about my father?”
“I know he wasn’t in your life, but you’ve never elaborated. You didn’t seem to want to talk about him.” Morgan’s head tilted. “I assumed he’d walked out.”
That’s what everyone had assumed. “When I was ten, my dad vanished.”
Morgan straightened. “Vanished?”
“He literally went out for bread and milk one night and never came home.”
“That’s horrible.” Morgan placed a hand to her throat.
Lance turned away from Morgan and her pity. Outside the office window, the wind stirred a pile of dead leaves on the front lawn. They swirled into the air, then tumbled across the grass, at the mercy of the wind. Much like a ten-year-old Lance had helplessly watched his life cartwheel out of control. As much as he tried to leave his youth behind, he couldn’t help but wonder if his father was dead or alive. Had he met with foul play or had he truly walked away from his family?
“Did the police ever find him?” she asked.
“No.” Lance swallowed. Composed, he pivoted to face her. “Sharp was the detective on the case. He worked it for about a year until the department made him put it aside, unofficially of course. Officially, cops work each case until it’s resolved. But in reality, limited resources have to be channeled to current crimes.”
“That must have been terrible to live through.”
“It was,” Lance said. “But after the case went cold, Sharp kept an eye on me and my mom over the years.”
More than an eye. If it hadn’t been for Sharp, Lance wondered if he’d have gone to college or become a cop or grown into a sane, productive member of society.
“My point is, there isn’t much Sharp doesn’t know about me. He’s more than a business associate. It’s fine to talk in front of him.”
“I’m glad you told me.” Her eyes warmed.
Why had he told her? Not many people besides Sharp knew about the horror that his teenage years had become. The truth had been too painful to talk about. As a kid, it had been easier to let everyone think his parents were divorced and his mom was never around because she worked overtime to pay the bills. Circumstances had limited his social life, and he certainly hadn’t shared her mental breakdown with his very few friends.
He couldn’t help but wonder what Morgan would think of his mom. He certainly didn’t tell any of the women he dated casually that his father had disappeared. And By the way, my mother has a serious mental illness wasn’t the best lead-in for future dates. Lance had had several quasi-serious relationships. None had survived the meeting-the-parents stage. It was just too much to expect anyone else to deal with his mother’s issues. Morgan already carried more than her share of responsibility. How could he possibly ask her to shoulder any more?
And this was why they could only be friends, no matter how much Lance would like more. Cups rattled in the kitchen. A few minutes later, Sharp carried a tray to his desk. He handed a cup to Morgan.
She took it in both hands, cradling it as if to warm her fingers. “As you might know, I’ve agreed to defend Nick Zabrowski.”
Sharp nodded. “I saw you on the news.”
“I won’t lie. Defending Nick won’t be easy. The DA has already convinced the public that Nick is guilty, and from what I’ve seen of the evidence, the case is daunting.”
Lance leaned forward. “Someone pinned a cow’s heart to Morgan’s front door with a knife today.”
“Classy.” Sharp exhaled, concern and respect filling his eyes. “But that won’t stop you.”
“No.” Morgan’s eyes lifted, and her blue eyes blazed with conviction. “Nick has lived across the street from my grandfather for years. He mows our lawn. He plays chess with Grandpa. My girls love him. I just can’t believe Nick could harbor the level of rage necessary . . .” Letting the thought trail off, she set her tea aside. “Our neighborhood is closely knit. I also knew Tessa. She babysat for my girls. As much as I want to prove Nick didn’t kill her, I also want to find the person who did.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“It is. I won’t be able to do it alone. I’m going to need an investigator.”
Lance coughed. She wanted to hire Sharp Investigations? Why hadn’t that occurred to him? Why else would she be here? Clearly, she hadn’t come just to talk to him, and didn’t that fact give him an ache right under his heart?
He tried to put it aside. He had no right to feel hurt. Morgan wasn’t ready for a relationship, and as long as he had his mom to handle, neither was he.
But damn.
He couldn’t entirely suppress his feelings. If he and Sharp didn’t agree to help her, she’d go to someone else. Jealousy poked him in the gut. He didn’t want anyone else working closely with her. But taking the case would put him at odds with Chief Horner. Lance’s chance of getting that upcoming detective slot would evaporate faster than steam from an overheated radiator.
All he’d ever wanted since his dad disappeared was to be a detective. Could he give that up?
“Does your client have money?” Sharp asked bluntly.
Morgan sighed. “I’ll be honest. Bud is scrambling for cash. He’s remortgaging his house.”
Sharp said, “You’re working pro bono?”
Morgan nodded. She was sacrificing her entire career for her neighbor, and she wasn’t even getting paid. “Whatever money he can amass will be for the investigation and defense. Bud’s a good man. He’ll pay you eventually.”
“You really believe this kid is innocent?” Sharp asked.
“I do.” There was no doubt in her tone.
Lance rested his elbows on his knees. “What if you find out he isn’t?”
“He is.” Morgan’s eyes went flat with determination. “Besides the fact that I know he’s not capable of murder, Nick vomits at the sight of blood. I’ve personally witnessed this happen. It’s an immediate, visceral reaction.”
“So you think he’s being railroaded,” Lance said.
“Horner’s an ass,” Sharp chimed in. “But I can’t see him deliberately persecuting an innocent man.”