Lance stepped aside. Sharp was in the hallway behind him. He gestured to his office. “Let’s go in here.”
Tony paced a nervous square in front of Sharp’s desk. Lance crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. Sharp sat down behind his desk. “What can we do for you, Tony?”
Tony stopped. “It’s Jamie.”
“Have you seen her?” Sharp asked.
“No. That’s just it.” Tony resumed his tour of the room’s perimeter. “Since she left home, we’ve met twice a week at the lake. I brought her food and other stuff she might need. She didn’t tell me where she was staying, but I knew she was OK.”
“And now?” Lance pushed off the wall.
“She missed our last couple of meetings. I don’t know where she went. I looked everywhere I could think of. Nobody’s seen her.”
Sharp frowned. “Since when?”
“Since the night Tessa Palmer died.” Tony stopped behind a chair and put both hands on the back. His fingers clenched. “I’m really worried.”
Sharp nodded. “Smart of you to come to us.”
“Make a list of everywhere she might have gone.” Lance went to the war room and returned with a blank sheet of computer paper. He handed Tony a pen from Sharp’s desk.
“OK.” Tony eased into the chair and leaned on the desk as he wrote. “But I already checked out all these places.”
“Make another list of anyone else Jamie might have gone to for help,” Sharp added.
Tony finished writing and pushed the list across the desk. “I wrote my cell phone number on the bottom, in case you want to ask me anything else.”
“Thanks, Tony.” Lance escorted him out the door, and then returned to Sharp’s office.
“Damn it. We need to find this kid, and we need to make sure she’s safe.” Sharp waved Tony’s list. “I’m going to start on this list. If this kid is still around, someone has seen her.”
Lance headed for his office while Sharp left via the front door. As Lance settled in his chair, he heard crunching from the kitchen, then the sound of the dog lapping water.
There were too many people hiding in this town. They had to find Jamie for her own sake, and the police needed to locate Dean Voss for everyone else’s.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Morgan walked through her front door. Sophie was already up. She stood on a stool in the kitchen “helping” Gianna make pancakes.
“Morning.” Gianna caught Morgan’s eye. “Any new updates?”
“Nick is doing better.” Morgan nodded. She’d talked to Bud in the car. She’d also left a message for the county sheriff. He needed to provide her with the details on Nick’s attack.
“Mommy!” Sophie leaped from her chair and raced to Morgan.
Morgan caught her in midair and kissed her on the forehead. With her daughter’s thin limbs wrapped around her waist, she walked toward the hallway. “I’ll wake Ava and Mia.” A chatty breakfast with her girls was exactly what Morgan needed to regroup.
She helped them dress, brushed and braided their hair, and walked them to the bus stop. Sophie refused to let Morgan touch her hair, saying she would wait for Gianna to make her kitten ears.
As the bus approached, she took Sophie’s hand, kissed Mia and Ava, and watched her two oldest girls climb the big steps into the school bus. She and Sophie turned toward the house.
Sophie skipped. “Me and Gianna are baking cookies today.”
“You are?”
“Uh-huh.” Sophie nodded. “Kitten ones.”
“Kitten cookies sound yummy.”
“We have chocolate chips for their eyes and licorice for whiskers.”
Morgan opened the door and they went inside.
Gianna had cleaned up the kitchen from breakfast. She closed the dishwasher door. “If you bring me the basket of hair things, I’ll make your kitten ears.”
“Meow.” Sophie skipped from the room.
“I can’t thank you enough. She seems really happy.”
“I already told you. I love being with the girls.” Gianna smiled. “I feel like I have little sisters.”
“Tomorrow you have dialysis. I know you offered to be their nanny, but you must promise that you’ll tell me if they’re too much for you,” Morgan said. “This situation will only work if we communicate.”
“OK.” Gianna wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “But my dialysis treatments line up with Sophie’s preschool schedule. As long as I can catch a nap afterward, we should be fine.”
“We still have to discuss a salary for you.”
Gianna gave her head a stubborn shake. “No.”
“I’ll let it go for now, but we will have this discussion again.” Morgan turned toward the doorway.
“My answer won’t change,” Gianna called after her.
Morgan showered and dressed in black slacks and a cotton blouse, tucking her Glock into her inside-the-waistband holster behind her right hip. After slipping into a blazer and flats, she kissed Sophie good-bye and headed for the office.
Tessa’s murder needed to be solved. Nick was going to live, but he was still in danger of going to prison.
She went through the front door of the office and walked down the hall toward the war room. Lance was coming out of the kitchen and nearly collided with her. His hair was still damp. She’d shoved the previous night in the back of her mind, but the cedar scent of his shower gel brought it back with a rush. The feel of his muscles under her hands. The smell of his skin. The taste of his mouth.
Heat rushed to her face.
Last night she’d been upset, and whiskey had lowered her inhibitions, but this morning she was 100 percent sober. There was no denying that she still wanted him.
But was she ready to do something about it?
And after her behavior last night, was he still interested in her? She’d been an idiot.
She ducked into the war room. Lance followed.
Sharp stood in front of the whiteboard. “Do we have an update on Nick’s condition?”
“Yes,” Morgan said. “Bud called while I was in the car. The doctors are very pleased with his improvement. He’s been upgraded from critical to stable and should be moved out of intensive care this morning.”
Lance exhaled. “That’s great.”
“I’m waiting to hear from the sheriff. I want to know who stabbed Nick and why,” Morgan said. “The inmate who attacked him took a huge risk. He needed a reason to attack Nick. It could have been simple jail violence, but there’s a greater chance that it wasn’t.”
Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not that hard to arrange a hit on the inside, but why?”
“Maybe the real killer assumed if Nick died, we wouldn’t have a client, and we’d stop investigating.” Morgan walked the length of the room and back. “Which means we’ve made someone uncomfortable. We’re on the right track.”