Drawing his gun, he went inside. “Morgan?”
“Back here.” The feminine voice from the kitchen made him nearly light-headed with relief. He picked up her purse and duffel and carried them inside.
Morgan sat at the kitchen table. She still wore his clothes. Blood wept from an abrasion on her knee. The stray dog leaned against her legs. Sharp, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, was making a pot of tea.
As Lance stepped into the kitchen, the dog bristled and growled, getting between him and Morgan.
He stopped. “What happened?”
“Someone was outside.” Morgan’s hand settled on the dog’s head. “I tripped and skinned my knee. She chased him away.”
“Did you see who it was?” He set her things on the empty chair next to her.
Morgan shook her head. “He was in the hedges next door. The sun was in my eyes as he stepped out. When the dog came running from around the back of the house, he ran back through the hedge.”
“Did you call the police?” Lance asked.
Sharp shook his head. “He didn’t do anything illegal.”
Lance swore. “Did you check the surveillance footage?”
Sharp reached behind him for an iPad. He swiped through a couple of screens and handed the iPad to Lance. “The sun was behind him. Average size guy, dressed in jeans and a black hooded jacket. It looked like his face was covered with something.”
“That’s not very helpful.” Lance watched the video. The figure was a barely detailed shadow, an outline of a man. He stepped out of the hedges. Before he’d taken two steps, a white blur charged him. The man turned and bolted. “That dog is a rocket.”
“I’m going to send the image to a friend and see if he can get any more details out of it,” Sharp said.
Morgan stroked the dog’s head. “If we assume the man was Tessa’s killer, that would rule out Robby Barone and his father. Robby is too small and his father is too large.”
“What if the man had nothing to do with the case?” Sharp asked. “He could have been a prospective burglar casing the building next door.”
“Or it was Jacob Emerson,” Lance suggested. “I’m sure the DA has already called his father. Maybe he doesn’t appreciate the prospect of being swabbed for DNA.”
“Dean Voss is another possibility,” Sharp said. “Trying to kidnap a woman on a public street is pretty crazy. The SFPD, the sheriff’s department, and the state police are looking for him, but he’s slippery.”
“Don’t forget Kevin Murdoch,” Lance added. “I know we haven’t turned up any dirt on Jamie’s soon-to-be stepfather, but I haven’t counted him out yet.”
“There’s one person who is completely ruled out.” Morgan applied a Band-Aid to her knee. “Nick. And on that front, Bud messaged me that Nick is stable and improving faster than the doctors expected. They think he’s out of the woods.”
“That’s a relief,” Lance said.
Sharp set a cup of tea on the table in front of her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Lance tried to catch her eye, but she was entirely too focused on stirring a spoonful of honey into her tea.
Suddenly, she stood without drinking any tea. “I’d better change and get home if I want to see my girls before they go to school.”
Sharp handed her a Band-Aid, and she left the room with her duffel. The dog followed her. They heard the bathroom door open and close. A few minutes later, Morgan returned dressed in a pair of jeans and a light sweater. The dog remained plastered to her shins. “Thank you for rushing to my rescue, Sharp.”
“Between the Glock in your hand and the dog, you didn’t need much rescuing,” Sharp said.
“I still appreciate it.” Morgan shifted the duffel bag in her hand and grabbed her purse from the kitchen chair. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Then we can look for Voss’s wife.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Lance walked her to the front door.
She stooped to pet the dog’s head. “Thank you. You have to stay here, at least for now.”
Lance followed her outside, making sure the dog didn’t get out the front door.
On the sidewalk next to her van, she turned to him. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Lance said. “You were upset about Nick.”
Their gazes locked for a few seconds.
Her eyes were sad and resigned. “It wasn’t all right, and I am sorry.” She turned away and slid into the driver’s seat, tossing her purse and duffel bag across the console. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
And didn’t that just unleash a flood of regret?
If only things were different. If she wasn’t hung up on her dead husband. If there weren’t three innocent little kids that would be affected by any fallout. If his mother’s mental illness didn’t consume so much of his life.
Too many ifs.
But he’d been completely honest the night before. He wouldn’t be a regret. Not with her.
“Text me when you’re home?” he asked.
She nodded and closed the door.
Lance watched her drive away. The empty hole in the pit of his stomach worried that by taking the high road last night, he’d passed up his only opportunity to make love to her.
He shook off his mood and went back inside. Sharp was in the kitchen when Lance returned.
“I want to know why that man was outside my house this morning,” Sharp said.
“But did he follow her here or lie in wait?” Lance asked.
“Good question. I also wonder if he knew I live upstairs.”
“He definitely didn’t know about the dog.” Lance walked back to the kitchen. The dog was in the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Rocket Dog gave him quite a surprise.”
“Don’t look at her. It makes her nervous.” Sharp ignored the dog. She cowered under the table as he filled bowls with food and water and set them in the corner as if he did it every day. “So why was Morgan dressed in your clothes this morning?” Sharp asked with his typical bluntness.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Lance went to the fridge and poured a glass of filtered water.
Sharp raised his hands. “I didn’t make any assumptions.”
“It was late when we left the hospital last night. Morgan stayed in my guest room. Nothing happened.” Lance didn’t know why it felt important that Sharp know that.
Sharp said, “Of course nothing happened. You’d never take advantage of her.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “Does that make me a jerk?”
That kiss had nearly done him in.
“No. It makes you human.” Sharp slapped him on the back.
A knock sounded at the door. Lance walked to the foyer and looked through the window. “It’s Tony Allessi, Jamie Lewis’s best friend.”
He opened the door.
Tony’s Mohawk had changed color to bright green. “I know it’s early. I wanted to stop on my way to school. I need to talk to you. It’s about Jamie.”