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.”

Lance pointed to photos of Robby Barone and his father. “I talked to my mom. She’s found nothing on the Barones. They seem to have disappeared into thin air. She has found several small corporations linked to other suspected members. She’s digging through layers of shell companies to see if they own real estate.”

Sharp said, “I called a couple of my pals. There’s been no sign of Dean Voss. The local, county, and state cops are all looking for him. They do know that Voss was in special forces. He’s not going to be easy to find.”

“They’re looking for Rambo.” Lance sighed.

“Exactly,” Sharp agreed.

Morgan said, “We’re going to try to talk to Mrs. Voss today in hopes that she has some idea where her husband is hiding.”

“Good luck with that.” Sharp rubbed a hand over his head. “She’s cooperating with the police. They’re watching her. They think Voss might try and contact her.”

Damn.

Morgan stared at the board. “Who’s left on our suspect list?”

“Jacob Emerson,” Lance said. “Could that have been him following you this morning?”

Morgan took the image captured on the surveillance video and fastened it to the board with a magnet. “This could be either Dean Voss or Jacob Emerson. They’re about the same size and build.”

Lance shook his head. “For argument’s sake, let’s assume the same man stalked Morgan this morning and arranged the attack on Nick. If that’s true, then I can’t see Jacob Emerson having the contacts to orchestrate a jail hit.”

“Could his father have arranged that? What kind of law does Mr. Emerson practice?” Sharp asked.

Morgan opened her file and flipped to Mr. Emerson’s pages. “He specializes in medical malpractice, but he’s also defended some DUIs, which means he’s spent time in the courtroom and jail.”

Morgan’s phone vibrated. “This is the sheriff.”

She answered the call. “Morgan Dane.”

“Ms. Dane,” the sheriff said. “What can I do for you?”

“Thank you for returning my call. Who stabbed my client, sheriff?”

The sheriff began, “The man’s name is Zachary Menendez. He’s awaiting trial on three counts of first-degree murder.”

“Do you have any idea why he did it?”

“So far, Mr. Menendez has exercised his right to remain silent.” The sheriff’s voice reflected his contempt. “But I know the charges already filed against him are pretty tight. He’s expected to go to jail for the next hundred years. He’s a very violent man. I’m not sure he needs a reason to hurt people.”

Morgan didn’t believe that for a second. Menendez could have stabbed anyone in that pod. Why did he choose Nick? “What else do you know about him?”

“He has mental health issues,” the sheriff said. “He’s a heroin addict, and he’s been homeless since he was discharged from the military five years ago.”

“Do you have any of his military records?” she asked. Could he know Dean Voss?

“No. He was in some kind of special forces. The military isn’t fond of sharing that sort of information,” the sheriff replied. “You don’t need to worry about your client when he returns to jail. We’ve transferred Menendez to isolation. He’ll be charged with attempted murder, on top of the other charges he was already facing.”