A doctor rushed forward and began treating Emerson, but he grabbed Lance by the shirt.

“You have to hear this. In case I die. Jacob didn’t do it.” Emerson licked his lips again and kept talking. “Jacob came home from the party. He told me about the fight with Nick over Tessa. He was in his room when she called. She told me to meet her at the gazebo. If I didn’t show up, she’d tell everyone. I knew she was going to break it off with me so she could be with Nick. Jacob had said they’d gone off together, but I had to have her one more time.” He took two wheezing breaths. “Afterward, she was crying. She said it would never happen again. She was going to tell her grandparents. I lost it. How could she turn on me? I loved her. I barely remember attacking her, chasing her, killing her. It’s all a blur. I couldn’t stop myself. When it was over, I realized what I’d done . . . I knew she’d been with Nick that night, so I drove to his house and buried the knife in his yard.”

His hand dropped from Lance’s shirt, too weak to maintain his grip. “It was me. Not Jacob.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.

Lance holstered his weapon and went to Morgan. A nurse was holding a pressure bandage on her arm. Emerson’s blade had sliced the outside of her arm open from wrist to elbow. But the wound wasn’t critical, and relief poured through Lance like cold water.

He could have lost her.

“Did you hear any of that?” He took her uninjured hand.

“Yes.” Her face was grim, either from the pain or from the truth they’d finally discovered. “Tessa moved here when she was twelve. I wonder how long it was going on?”

“Long enough to be sick.” Lance watched two orderlies hoist Emerson onto a gurney and wheel him away. He almost wished his aim had been a little truer. Lance had no pity for Emerson, not after what he’d done.

“And long enough to be a felony,” Morgan said.

Long enough for exposure of his crime to be a motive for murder.

“I’ll bet she was going to tell him she was pregnant, but he never gave her the chance.” Lance turned from the sight of Emerson disappearing down the hallway. “I can’t believe that either Emerson or his son could be the father. Two monsters, one family.”

Morgan’s face was pale, her features pinched with pain. Enough of the Emersons. He wasn’t going anywhere. There would be plenty of time to worry about him later. He rubbed her hand, and she smiled at him through the pain.

A doctor approached Morgan. “Let’s have a look.” He lifted the bandage and checked the wound. “That’s a nasty cut. You’re going to need some serious stitches.”

She nodded. “But better my arm than my neck.”

The thought almost made Lance sick.

“I was impressed at how you slipped out of his grip,” Lance said.

Although he should have expected her to act heroically, considering how she’d broken Dean Voss’s wrist earlier. But even after seeing her in action, he had trouble reconciling her feminine appearance with her abilities.

She was a girly girl who could kick serious butt. He’d have to get used to that fact.

“I’ve told you before that my dad and granddad trained me in self-defense, but remind me that I need to practice now and then. I’m lucky I remembered.” Morgan gritted her teeth as Lance and the young doctor helped her to her feet. “I knew if I could get out of the way, you’d take care of the rest.”

Lance squeezed her fingers.

“Let’s get you down to the ER.” The nurse guided Morgan toward a wheelchair.

Lance held onto Morgan’s hand. He didn’t care where they were going.

He wasn’t letting go.

Chapter Forty-Two

Morgan held her bandaged arm against her body as she slid into Lance’s Jeep. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight.” Lance closed the car door, rounded the vehicle, and got into the driver’s seat. “Are you in pain?”

“Nope. Not yet.” The painkillers the hospital had given her made everything fuzzy. Her mouth tasted like she’d eaten cotton balls.

“I’ll have you home in fifteen minutes.”

Morgan didn’t remember the drive. She must have dozed off. The next thing she knew she was home and Lance was helping her into the house.

Her grandfather held the door open. Gianna was waiting in the hall.

“She’s fine,” Lance said. “Just a little spacey.”

“If you can get her to her room, I can take over from there.” Gianna followed them down the hall.

“I only hurt my arm. My legs are fine. I can walk.” But Morgan wobbled more than walked.

Lance half carried her to her bed. “Looks like she doesn’t tolerate painkillers any better than alcohol.”

She stretched out. “I can hear you.” But she couldn’t sit up. Her head felt like a water balloon.

“Thanks for saving my girl,” her grandfather said from the doorway.

Lance’s answer surprised her. “Wasn’t me. She saved herself.”

“Not exactly,” she mumbled. She knew she wouldn’t be here without him.

He straightened and shifted away from the bed.

She grabbed for his hand. Her eyes welled with tears. Gratitude and something more filled her with contentment. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He leaned down and kissed her hand before setting it on the bed. “Get some rest.”

Morgan must have fallen asleep. When she opened her eyes again, morning blasted through the blinds. She threw an arm over her eyes. Pain sliced through her arm. “Ow.”

She sat up. She was still wearing her slacks from the night before. But someone had removed her bloody blouse and replaced it with a soft flannel button-up. Her feet were bare, a blanket drawn over her. She eased her shoulders higher on the pillow. Her mouth was desert dry.

“Hey, how do you feel?” Gianna stood in the doorway.

“Like I ate chalk.”

“Want some water?”

“Yes.” Morgan shook her head. “And coffee.”

“Lance left a few pain pills for you if you need them.”

“I’ll stick with over-the-counter if possible. Clearly, I have no tolerance for anything stronger.” Morgan swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Take it slowly, OK?” Gianna suggested.

“I will.” Morgan eased to her feet. The room remained stationary. She walked to the bathroom. But when she came out, she decided being upright was overrated and went back to bed. Her head ached.

Gianna brought her water and coffee.

“It’s like I have the worst hangover ever.”

“The coffee should help.” Gianna handed it over. “I guess there’s no worry about you becoming an addict. You wouldn’t be awake enough.”

Morgan drank. The coffee went down her throat like liquid gold. “Where are the girls?”

“School.” Gianna said. “The bus came a half hour ago.”

“Where’s Sophie?”

“Your grandfather has her outside with Snoozer. He didn’t want her to wake you.”

The caffeine cleared the cobwebs in Morgan’s head. “Wait. It’s Wednesday. You have to get to dialysis.”

“Will you be all right by yourself? If not, I’ll call a cab and your grandfather can stay with you.”

Morgan drained her mug. “I’m fine now that I’m caffeinated. Seriously, I have a cut on my arm. That’s it.”

“You were pretty out of it last night.” Gianna hesitated at the door.

“The drugs are out of my system now. I’m fine.” To prove it, Morgan got out of bed. Her head felt like someone had just bowled a strike in it, but she faked a smile as Gianna left her bedroom. The second they all left the house, she was getting right back in bed.

“Mommy!” Sophie ran at her.

“Sophie!” Grandpa called. “Remember Mommy’s arm.”

Sophie slid to a stop, her sneakers squeaking on the wood floor of the hall.

“It’s OK. You can hug me.” Morgan crouched down, holding her injured arm up high.