“I just woke up,” Lance grumbled.
“I made breakfast for you too.” Sharp speared Morgan with a direct gaze. “Don’t you dare dig in to those donuts I saw in the kitchen. You’re not in as serious condition as Lance, but your body has some repairs to make too.”
She sighed. She’d really been looking forward to one of those donuts and a vat of coffee.
“How’s your arm?” she asked Sharp.
“Starting to heal, thank you.” He handed Lance the shake with a short speech about vitamins, amino acids, protein, and anti-inflammatory compounds.
“I believe you. I’m drinking.” Lance accepted the shake and took a long swallow. “What happened to your hand?”
Sharp poked at a bandage on his finger. “I went to pick up that little dog at the vet this morning. She bit me. The vet said it seems the dog hates men.”
“Oh, no,” Morgan said. “I’ll bet Warren Fox had something to do with that.”
“Speaking of Warren,” Sharp said, “he’s fine. He was passed out drunk when you knocked on his door. He’d run his vehicle into a ditch a half mile from his house and stumbled home.”
“At least he isn’t dead,” Morgan said. “What are we going to do with the dog? I can’t have a dog that bites. I have three kids.” But she’d never take the dog to the shelter.
“No worries. I already found her a home. I took her to Natalie Leed’s house. When I told Natalie the dog was homeless and hated men, she said that was perfect. So did she, at the moment. It was love at first sight.” Sharp grinned. “Oh, and guess what Stan Adam’s has been hiding? A gambling problem.”
“How do you know?” Lance raised the glass.
“He was arrested this morning,” Sharp said. “That problem at his firm wasn’t a request from a client. It was missing money. Stan has been borrowing from the firm to pay his debts. Apparently, his partner has had him under investigation for a while.”
“I wonder how long that’s been going on, or whether it has anything to do with Stan’s refusal to say where he really was the night my dad went missing.” Lance drank.
Sharp shrugged. “I doubt he’ll say now that he’s lawyered up.”
Watching Sharp fuss over Lance, Morgan turned toward the door. “I’ll get you an ice pack.”
Sophie bolted past. Morgan tried to grab her, but the child was wiry and quick. She launched herself onto the bed. She made no attempt to touch him, but the mattress rocked. Lance’s face turned pale.
Morgan hurried back to the bed, reaching for Sophie, but Lance shook his head. “I’ve got her.”
He set the shake down and put both hands around Sophie’s waist to stop her movements.
Sophie’s eyes widened as she stared at his bruised chest.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said.
“It wooks wike it hurts.” She leaned forward and kissed the darkest, largest bruise across his ribs.
His face went whiter, and his eyes looked like they were going to roll back in his head as her lips touched the skin over his fractured bones. Sophie leaned back and folded her legs under her body with a little bounce.
“Oh, honey.” Morgan winced. “Lance needs to rest. Don’t—”
Lance held up a hand. Despite the paleness of his face, his eyes were misty. “She’s fine. I need to get up anyway.”
“But you don’t need to be catapulted to your feet,” Morgan said. “Sophie, did you get a donut?”
The little girl turned and frowned at Morgan. “I want to stay wif Wance.”
“How about I come into the kitchen?” Lance suggested.
Sophie eyed his injuries with a dubious expression, as if she didn’t believe he could or should be getting up, but she agreed. “OK.”
Sharp lifted her off the bed, clearly trying to stave off another trampoline session. He set her on the floor, and she darted out of the room.
“I’ll go make some vegetable omelets,” Sharp said. “When you’re up to it, Stella has business to discuss with you both.”
Sharp had phoned to tell them about King’s suicide while they were in the ER. Morgan had not been surprised. The only rules King had followed were his own.
When they’d been discharged from the hospital, Morgan had stayed with Lance to keep an eye on him. He’d insisted he was all right, but she hadn’t wanted him to be alone. They’d fallen asleep as soon as they’d gotten back to his house. Morgan had kept one hand on his body all night long, as if she needed to be continuously reassured that he was safe and whole.
“Did the state police find anything at King’s cabin?” By anything, Lance clearly meant remains.
Sharp said, “The forensics team was still searching the cabin. In light of Vic’s body still being missing, I suggested they bring in a cadaver dog. I’ll bet your dad isn’t far from the lake.”
But they still didn’t know why Vic had died. Would they ever? After all they’d been through, Lance and his mother deserved closure.
“I want to go out there,” Lance said, obviously feeling the same way. “And I need to visit my mother.”
They’d checked on her after he’d been discharged. She’d still been holding her own.
“See how you feel standing up first, all right?” Sharp followed Sophie out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
“I’ll get you some clothes.” Morgan opened his dresser drawer and took out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. She brought them to the bed. Lance was sitting up with his legs over the side. She knelt in front of him, sparing him the agony of bending in half to get his pants on.
“I can dress myself,” Lance protested.
“I’m sorry about Sophie. I hope she didn’t hurt you.”
Lance swallowed. “She didn’t.”
“Liar,” Morgan said.
“Don’t make me laugh.” He laughed, then put a hand over his ribs. “I’m flattered. In the beginning I didn’t think I’d be able to win her over.”
Morgan pictured Sophie bouncing on the mattress. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
The next day, Lance stood on the grass behind Sheriff King’s small hunting cabin. Next to him, Morgan held his hand. The day was bright and clear. The sun shone on the water and warmed the top of his head.
Having done her job and alerted within thirty minutes of being brought to the site, the cadaver dog sat on the sidelines while a state police forensic team dug careful shovelfuls of earth out from under the turf. The hole was three feet deep, and they were still digging.
Morgan had detoured to see the inside of the cabin. She hadn’t seen the sheriff’s body, but the bloodstain on the wall had been enough to convince her that the sheriff was dead.
That it was all over.
Well, almost.
They still didn’t know where Vic was or why he’d been killed.
Morgan shivered and zipped her parka to her chin.
Stella and Brody walked across the grass to join them.
Brody stared out over the lake. “How typical of King to off himself and leave us totally in the dark. No note, no explanation, no nothing.”
“I never would have guessed King was behind everything,” Lance said. “But when I think about it now, it makes complete sense. He had access to all the witnesses. He only killed those who could connect him with Mary. I have to assume Crystal was the person Mary called from the police station that night. So she knew Mary had been arrested.”
“And P. J. knew King had arrested Mary too,” Stella said. “We arranged for a local detective in Florida to interview Owen Walsh. When he arrived, a PI was in the room.” Sharp’s associate. “The PI had already convinced Owen to talk.”
Lance stiffened. His ribs ached. The last missing piece of his puzzle was about to fall into place.
“Owen is dying of stomach cancer. He seemed relieved to confess.” Stella turned to Lance. “Owen confirmed the story the janitor told Sharp about Owen and King beating Lou Ford. Ford died in the back of the sheriff’s station.” She took a breath, giving Lance a second to brace himself. “This part of the story is secondhand. King told Owen what happened when he called from Grey Lake asking Owen to pick him up. King drove Mary out to a rest stop in Scarlet Falls to kill her, but she got away from him. Your dad was driving along the road, saw the girl running, and stopped to help. King killed him, buried him here, then sank the car in the lake with Mary in the trunk. He called Owen to pick him up on the road near Grey Lake, and Owen drove him back to his car at the rest stop.”