Her Last Goodbye by Melinda Leigh

2017

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Author:	Melinda Leigh
Genre:	Romantic Suspense
File Name:	her-last-goodbye-by-melinda-leigh.epub
Original Title:	Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2)
Creator:	Melinda Leigh
Language:	en
Identifier:	ISBN:9781542047968
Publisher:	Montlake Romance
Date:	1506355200
File Size:	597436.416

Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh’s Morgan Dane series continues as the fearless attorney and her partner, investigator Lance Kruger, take on a disturbing disappearance…
Young mother Chelsea Clark leaves the house for a girls’ night out…and vanishes. Her family knows she would never voluntarily leave her two small children. Her desperate husband—also the prime suspect—hires Morgan to find his wife and prove his innocence.
As a single mother, Morgan sympathizes with Chelsea’s family and is determined to find her. She teams up with private investigator Lance Kruger. But the deeper they dig, the deadlier their investigation gets. When Morgan is stalked by a violent predator, everything—and everyone—she holds dear is in grave danger.
Now, Morgan must track down a deranged criminal to protect her own family…but she won’t need to leave home to find him. She’s his next target.

Table of Content

1. Unnamed
2. ALSO BY MELINDA LEIGH MORGAN DANE NOVELS Say You’re Sorry SCARLET FALLS NOVELS Hour of Need Minutes to Kill Seconds to Live SHE CAN SERIES She Can Run She Can Tell She Can Scream She Can Hide “He Can Fall” (A Short Story) She Can Kill MIDNIGHT NOVELS Midnight Exposure Midnight Sacrifice Midnight Betrayal Midnight Obsession THE ROGUE SERIES NOVELLAS Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River) Walking on Her Grave (Rogue River) Tracks of Her Tears (Rogue Winter) Burned by Her Devotion (Rogue Vows)
3. Unnamed
4. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Text copyright © 2017 Melinda Leigh All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781542047968 ISBN-10: 154204796X Cover design by Jae Song
5. To Mom, for wallpapering the entire state of NJ in bookmarks
6. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Acknowledgments About the Author
7. Chapter One Digging a grave was hard work. Moonlight gleamed on the shovel as he lifted a clump of dirt and dumped it outside the knee-deep hole. Despite the coolness of the October night, sweat dripped into his eyes. Pausing, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. With a roll of his shoulders, he plunged the shovel into the earth like a spear and let it stand upright long enough to remove his flannel shirt. He tossed the shirt outside the shallow rectangle. The breeze that blew across his bare chest cooled his skin. The scent of wood smoke lingered in the air. A carpet of dead leaves covered the trail, leaving the trees half-bare. He leaned on the handle of the shovel and turned his face to the sky. Above the tops of the trees, the moon glowed, so low in the sky it felt like he could reach up and touch it. He lifted a hand, the position giving him the illusion of holding the moon in his palm. The illusion of power. Despite the failure he was literally burying, energy surged through hi
8. Chapter Two There wasn’t anything ominous about 77 Oak Street. White with blue shutters, the compact two-story Colonial sat in the middle of a perfectly ordinary cookie-cutter development. Basketball hoops and hockey nets lined the street. Colorful chalk drawings decorated the sidewalks. At nine in the morning, the neighborhood was quiet. Kids had gone off to school. Parents had left for work. But a sense of foreboding trickled down Morgan Dane’s back, along with a drop of sweat, as she compared the address with the paperwork in her lap. The numbers matched. She squinted at the house. The October sun peered over the roof from a cloudless blue sky. Its rays cut through the chilly autumn breeze and shone on a maple tree in the center of the front lawn. It was a beautiful autumn morning, not that anyone inside would know. Every blind in every window was closed tight. He was in there all right. “This is the house,” she said. Lance Kruger tapped a finger on the steering wheel of his Jeep. “
9. Chapter Three Morgan! Lance dug his feet into the grass and sprinted toward the man who held Morgan by the neck. She twitched like a rag doll, rising onto her toes. His vision tunneled down to the two bodies on the stoop. Fury added fuel to his legs. If Tyler Green hurt her . . . He watched as Morgan raised one arm over her head and spun in a quarter turn. She windmilled her arm forward and used the inside of her shoulder to break Tyler’s grip on her neck. Then she drove the back of her elbow into his face. His head snapped back. Blood spurted. His hands went to cup his mouth and nose just as Lance hit him with a midbody tackle. Lance and Tyler rolled in a tangle of limbs on the front lawn, coming to a stop with Lance on top. Flat on his back on the ground, Tyler swung out with a wild and weak punch. Lance swatted the fist out of the way like he would a gnat. In the end, there wasn’t much of a struggle. Tyler acted tough when he was attacking women but didn’t know what to do with an op
10. Chapter Four Morgan led the way into Sharp Investigations. The PI firm occupied the lower half of a duplex on a quiet street a few blocks off the main drag of Scarlet Falls. Lance’s boss lived in the upstairs unit. Downstairs, the two-bedroom apartment had been converted into professional space. Morgan had taken over the spare office. Though they were separate entities, private attorneys often required the services of PI firms. Being under the same roof was convenient, and the rent was cheap. With a brand-new practice, Morgan’s cash flow was tight. A few sharp barks greeted them. Rocket, the white-and-tan stray dog Sharp had recently adopted, rushed them, wagging and snuffling at Morgan. A bulldog mix of some sort, her sturdy body was filling out nicely with regular meals. Sharp met them in the foyer. “The client’s name is Tim Clark.” In his midfifties, retired Scarlet Falls police detective Lincoln Sharp was fit and wiry. He wore his more-salt-than-pepper hair buzzed short. After twen
11. Chapter Five Lance’s hands went clammy as he listened to Tim’s story. The similarity between Chelsea’s disappearance and Lance’s own past echoed like shouts in a deep, dark cave. Twenty-three years ago, Lance’s father had gone to the store and never returned. When Lance’s father had disappeared, his mother had suffered the exact same scrutiny—and frustration—that plagued Tim now. But Sharp, who’d been the lead investigator, had quickly eliminated her as a suspect and moved on. Lance remembered being ten years old, sitting in the hallway just outside the kitchen, and listening in on the conversations between his mom and Sharp. His mother crying. Sharp trying to give her hope without making promises. As the weeks, months, and then years passed, those conversations hadn’t included any hope at all, and his mother had stopped crying and started fading away. Twenty-three years had gone by, but the memories still brought a sick feeling of helplessness to Lance’s gut. Morgan leaned forward. “T
12. Chapter Six Chelsea woke to the smell of rust and steel in her nostrils and a thumping pain in her temples. Her vision blurred, and she squeezed her eyelids closed for a few seconds to try to clear it. Confusion fogged her mind. Something was wrong. She should be hearing William cry. Her overfull breasts ached. Where was the baby? It was past time to nurse. He never went more than a few hours between feedings. He was practically attached to her. Was he sick? She rolled to the side, coming up against a metal bar. The bed was not familiar. Neither was the silence. Where am I? She opened her eyes. For a few seconds, she blinked in the dim light. As she took in her hazy surroundings, bewilderment gave way to fear. It wrapped icy tendrils around her heart, forcing it to beat faster. Not a nightmare. The room came into focus in an instant, the truth clicking into place like a key turning in a lock until all the pins lined up. Reality flooded her consciousness—along with horror as cold and cl
13. Chapter Seven He could make her love him. He knew it with complete certainty. Smoke rose in a cloud from the barrel of burning leaves. He waved it away and tossed her jeans onto the fire. At first, the bulk of the material smothered some of the flames, but in seconds, the denim began to burn slowly, starting at the edges and creeping inward. Smoke rose, smelling like burned paper. Patience. He added more dead leaves and waited for the flames to rise again. After the fire was reestablished, he set her sweater on top of the pile. Flames curled around the fabric, embracing, and then destroying it. Unlike Chelsea, who needed to be broken down but left intact. She’d tried to escape. Fury rose inside him. He breathed through it. Letting the air slowly out of his lungs, he tried to force his muscles to relax. But the tension wouldn’t leave him. It built, feeding on his memories like the fire fed on her clothes. His rage couldn’t get the best of him. It needed to be shut down. Chelsea wasn’t t
14. Chapter Eight Lance skimmed through the remaining documents in Chelsea’s file. Nothing jumped out at him. He closed the file on the card table in his office and sat back, letting the information sink into his head. Sharp walked into the room. “I made you a shake.” He handed Lance a nasty-looking green concoction. “I will never get used to the way these look.” Lance held up the glass and stared at the thick green liquid. After he’d been shot in the thigh and almost died last year, his recovery had been long, painful, and frustrating. He’d gone back to the police force only to quit when his leg didn’t hold up. He’d wallowed in pity at home, seeing little progress with his rehabilitation, until Sharp had convinced him to join his PI firm—and to try his organic-crunchy lifestyle. Several months after Lance had embraced his boss’s way of life, his leg was mostly healed. He doubted it would ever be 100 percent, but he could do most of the things he enjoyed. He’d even returned to coaching the
15. Chapter Nine The sheriff’s office was located near the county jail and municipal complex. After verifying that the sheriff’s car was parked behind the building, Morgan opened the glass door and stepped into the lobby. Inside, the ugly brown brick building was old, worn, and thoroughly unattractive, from the scraped linoleum floor to the stained dropped ceiling tiles. The sheriff didn’t waste money on decor. She went to the reception counter. At a desk a few feet away, a woman glanced up from a computer. She looked like a grandma, about sixty years old, soft all over, with dark-brown dyed hair. But when she crossed the floor to address Morgan, Grandma’s voice was sugarcoated steel. “Can I help you?” Morgan’s smile didn’t earn her one in return. “I’m Morgan Dane. I’m here to see Sheriff King.” “Is he expecting you?” “No.” Considering their last phone interaction hadn’t been entirely pleasant, Morgan had opted not to warn him. Showing up unannounced seemed like her best option. It was har
16. Chapter Ten “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lance rounded the desk in his mother’s home office and kissed her on the cheek. “Of course.” His mom tapped her keyboard, blackening her computer screen, then she swiveled her chair to face him. “I like to feel useful.” What had she been doing that she felt necessary to hide? File in hand, Lance hesitated. Would the case be too much stress for her? The smile on her face didn’t resonate in her eyes. She tucked a lock of shoulder-length gray hair behind one ear. Had she lost weight? Her fragile-thin frame couldn’t spare an ounce. But since Lance saw her every day, he didn’t always notice slight changes, and he couldn’t quite quantify what was wrong today. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her blue eyes seemed paler, her skin flushed, and her attempt to smile more transparent. He scanned the tidy room. “No boxes today?” The modern world of online shopping was an agoraphobic hoarder’s dream come true. Lance and his mom had an agreement. She ordered
17. Chapter Eleven The lobby of Speed Net reminded Lance of a trendy loft—sleek, industrial, and slightly cold. Building security rivaled that of a bank vault. Instead of glass, the front door was made of steel. Lance and Morgan had been buzzed into the building after speaking to the receptionist via a video intercom. Lance had expected the start-up tech firm to employ a young, hip receptionist, but the woman sitting at the modern desk was middle-aged and dressed in comfortable navy-blue slacks and a white cardigan. She rounded the desk to greet them, and Lance suspected her heavy-soled black shoes were orthopedic. The nameplate on the desk read BARBARA PAGANO. Speed Net was founded by Elliot Pagano. Could this be his mother? Morgan introduced them and handed the receptionist a business card. “Hello. I’m Barbara. Elliot is waiting for you.” Her smile was a thousand times warmer than the metal-and-glass space around her. Lance half expected her to offer him a cookie. Barbara stepped in fron
18. Chapter Twelve Pain surrounded Chelsea. Her entire body hurt. Was there any body part he hadn’t battered? Not that she could find. She opened her eyes. They were so swollen that all she could manage were slits. Her vision blurred. She lifted a hand to her face and barely recognized its tender contours. Giving up, she lay still for a while. Her ribs were bruised. Every time she drew in a breath, it felt as if she was wearing a corset of nails. Pain rolled over her in waves but eased as she breathed more deeply and smoothly. You can’t give up! Chelsea forced her eyelids open a bit farther and scanned the room as much as she could without moving her head. She was still in the shipping container. Still chained to the barrel. She lay on her side, curled naked on the plywood, in the corner where she’d crawled in a feeble attempt to get away from him. But there had been no escaping. As punishment for trying to open the drum, he’d ripped the clothes from her body. He’d taken away the cot, the
19. Chapter Thirteen He closed the door, peeled off his mask, and welcomed the cool night air. He could hardly believe how fast she was learning. Pleasure rushed through him like an excited child. Everything was working exactly as he’d planned. Turning around, he secured the heavy-duty padlock and set the alarm on the door. He couldn’t be too careful with his prize. He was a winner, and he intended to keep his spoils. She truly was the ideal woman. He would never let her go. Chelsea had made so much progress in such a short time. She’d exceeded his best expectations. Responding to a direct greeting was automatic, yet Chelsea’s brain had shut down her normal reaction. He’d seen it happen before his eyes. Her mouth had opened as a reflex, but her brain had intervened and closed it. A protection mechanism no doubt. Defiance equaled pain. Obedience led to physical comfort. Pavlov could suck it. Teaching a few caged dogs to drool didn’t even compare to his accomplishment. He’d changed more than
20. Chapter Fourteen The Jeep pulled into her driveway. Morgan reached for the door handle. “Morgan,” Lance said. The deep tone of his voice pulled at her. “I’d better get my good-night kiss now. Your watchdog, Sophie, will be on duty.” She turned to face him. He leaned across the console, cradled her jaw with one big hand, and kissed her softly. Her eyes drifted closed as his lips lingered. His mouth was warm, with a hint of demand under the gentle press of his lips. She was sorry when he released her. She caught his hand as it slipped from her face and gave it a tug. His eyes darkened, and he kissed her again. Not as gently. When his lips left hers, she was breathless and hot. He lifted his head, and his hand slipped from hers. “Someday, we’ll manage to spend a few hours alone.” His voice was rough. “Not that I’m complaining. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s taking care of family.” She exhaled hard. Her girl parts were tired of being set aside for her family’s greater good. She’d
21. Chapter Fifteen The next morning, Lance opened Morgan’s front door just as two children shot out past him. “Hi, Lance,” Ava called, running toward the driveway. Dragging a book bag on the pavement, Mia stopped to give him a quick hug. “Gotta go.” The door opened wider, and Morgan flew by, a piece of paper fluttering in her hand. “Wait!” She was dressed in gray pants and a matching suit jacket, but she wore no coat and her feet were bare. The hem of her pants was too long and she ran on her toes. The scarf around her neck was more decorative than warm, and he knew it was in place so her kids didn’t see the bruises on her neck. Her hair was down and billowed around her head in the wind. The cold reddened her fair skin almost instantly. In his eyes, Morgan was always beautiful, but usually her appearance was polished and perfect. When he caught her in a casual, carefree moment, before she assumed her professional veneer, it felt intimate, and she took his breath away. She called out, her
22. Chapter Sixteen Morgan went inside the small office. A counter faced a waiting area full of plastic chairs. The air smelled of burned coffee, grease, and dust. A tall, spare man in gray, grease-stained coveralls greeted her from the other side of the counter. His name tag read JERRY BURNS. “Can I help you?” “Hi, Jerry.” Morgan smiled. Jerry didn’t smile back. Morgan pulled a photo out of her big purse and handed it across the counter. “Have you ever seen this woman?” Jerry stared at the picture for a couple of seconds. “She looks familiar.” “She had her car repaired here last month.” “Yeah. I remember her.” Jerry nodded. “She stayed here for two hours while we fixed her car. Her kid screamed the whole time.” He grimaced. “I’d like to ask your employees what they remember about her.” “Why? Did she do something wrong?” Jerry asked, suspicious. “She’s missing,” Morgan said. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the news. Would she have had direct contact with anyone else here besides you?”
23. Chapter Seventeen Lance watched Morgan work the sheriff. She faced Sheriff King over his desk, all big blue eyes and sincerity. She folded her hands in her lap. Her expression was attentive, her posture ladylike, and yet her presence powerful in a way that Lance couldn’t quite quantify. It was confidence, he decided. Every word she spoke rang with truth but was delivered in a quiet way that had King leaning forward to listen. Yes, she had the big, badass sheriff hanging on her every word. She was good. Very good. No doubt when she’d been a prosecutor, she’d commanded the jury’s attention just as naturally. King leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his cleanly shaven chin. His eyes drifted to Lance, narrowed just a hair, then returned to Morgan. Yeah. Lance was not one of his favorite people, which was why he sat back and kept his mouth shut. He would have stayed in the car if he didn’t know he needed to sign a statement about the discovery of evidence. Lance wasn’t as skilled at hidi
24. Chapter Eighteen “What’s going on, Tim?” Morgan zipped her skirt. Still flushed and hot from Lance’s touch, she bottled up her irritation. But really, why couldn’t the sheriff just work and play well with others? Dressed, she picked up the phone and turned off the speaker. “I don’t know what to do.” Desperation raised the pitch of Tim’s voice. “Slow down, Tim,” Morgan said in a firm voice. Her client wasn’t thinking straight. He needed direction. “What’s going on?” “The sheriff wants me at the station. He refuses to say why.” Tim’s words were nearly drowned out by crying, too much crying to be made by one baby. “Who’s crying?” Morgan asked. “Both the kids,” Tim answered. “The deputy scared Bella. She thinks he wants to take me away.” Temper heated the back of Morgan’s neck. “Where is he now?” “In the foyer. I’m in the living room, trying to calm down the kids. My in-laws went out to have more flyers printed. They’re not answering their cell phones. I told him I needed to wait until the
25. Chapter Nineteen Morgan bristled as they passed four news vans parked in front of Tim’s house. Damn it! This is not how Chelsea’s parents should have heard about the body being found. The sheriff should have driven out to the house to tell Tim and Chelsea’s parents instead of dragging Tim down to the station. Rand and Patricia deserved more respect than finding out via the news. “Looks like the press found out about the body,” Lance said. “The days of carefully controlled press conferences are over. There’s more pressure to be first than there is to be accurate.” “I should have called them,” Tim said. “You did what you thought was best,” Morgan said. “You know what they say about good intentions,” Tim replied. Lance parked, and the three of them got out of the Jeep and walked up the driveway. A dozen reporters smoothed their hair and touched up their makeup. Cameramen and sound techs set up equipment. “There he is!” someone yelled. “Tim!” A reporter lunged at him. A microphone was thru
26. Chapter Twenty The door opened, and he came in, his black-masked face like a doll with no features. Chelsea’s heart jolted as she scampered off the cot, eyes cast down at her bare toes. Her body was sore, but she’d eaten the protein bar from that morning, sipped water, and moved around enough to prevent further stiffness from settling into her bruised limbs. The calories and hydration had helped, though she was careful to move as if she was weak and timid. He seemed to like that. He held a canvas bag in his hand. When he set it down on the floor, it jangled. Not food. Apprehension stirred in her belly. Something was different in his posture, his attitude. “I have something special planned for you tonight.” Excitement vibrated through his tone. Chelsea’s pulse quickened. Sweat broke out between her shoulder blades and breasts as anxiety blossomed into real fear. “Say the rules,” he commanded, as he had every time he’d come into the container. She repeated them. “Repeat number one.” “I b
27. Chapter Twenty-One “Enough.” He tossed the chained hound a scrap of beef. The dog snapped his reward out of the air and swallowed it whole. The beast knew its job. It had learned. He scanned the silent yard. Everything looked the same as when he’d gone inside. The container stood in silence under the thick spread of branches. It had been on the property when he’d purchased it. From the amount of rust on the steel exterior, the metal box had been there for many years. He’d painted the spots of cancer to keep them from spreading. He crossed the mossy ground and checked the door. Reaching out, he touched the padlock that secured the door. Locked. But something didn’t feel right. Turning his head, he listened. The snap of a twig reverberated from the darkness of the trees. A deer? He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked the padlock, and opened the door. The dim light of the camp lantern shone on an empty box. His gaze took in the chain, the upturned cot, the enlarged hole in the ceilin
28. Chapter Twenty-Two At nine thirty Friday morning, Lance followed Morgan into her office and watched her get settled. “Good morning.” She set her bag and stainless steel travel mug on her desk, removed her coat, and hung it in the closet. Her pants and suit jacket were black, and so were the circles under her eyes. Worry pulled at him. She’d spent hours the previous day hashing out the details of the reward offered by Rand with the sheriff’s department. As predicted, the sheriff was pissed off, but he’d taken on the responsibility. The hotline was supposed to be up and running, and a press conference was scheduled for that evening. Morgan would have spent the night drafting rough statements for Tim and Rand. No doubt she’d been up late reviewing notes on the case as well. And they’d split the job of writing up the reports on yesterday’s interviews. With her grandfather not able to drive, taxiing Sophie to preschool and Gianna to dialysis also fell on her shoulders. She raised her coffee
29. Chapter Twenty-Three Holding her breath, Morgan pressed the phone to her ear. “Morgan Dane.” “King here,” the sheriff said in a deep grumble. “Have you heard from the ME?” Morgan asked. “No. That’s not what this is about.” The sheriff actually huffed. “I got a call from Harold Burns’s lawyer. You and your investigators will stay away from him. Consider this your official warning.” “You know he’s a level-three violent offender and the woman’s body was found less than two miles from Burns Auto Shop?” Morgan’s voice was as cold as the icy shiver that slipped through her insides. Burns had gone on the offensive after their visit to the auto shop. She’d expected him to lay low. “Harassment is illegal, Ms. Dane,” the sheriff said in an irritated, frosty voice. “Stay away from Burns, and stay away from his brother’s auto shop.” The connection went dead. Burns had played them. Shock filled Morgan, then a hefty dose of anger kicked it aside. She lowered the phone. “Did you hear that?” The grim
30. Chapter Twenty-Four Lance paced the sidewalk. Where is she? The thought of Burns intimidating Morgan and her little girl stirred a giant pot of rage in Lance’s chest. He’d like nothing better than to find Burns and give him back a big dose of his own medicine. When he’d been a cop, Lance had hated the revolving-door nature of the system. There were people who could be rehabilitated, but there were those who were just bad. Born bad. Made bad. Whatever. It hardly mattered after the fact. Violent men like Burns were dangerous. Occasionally, like now, Lance was appalled at the violence of his own response to them. But this was personal. This was Morgan. And Sophie! Damn it. Men like Burns shouldn’t be allowed to share air with an innocent child. The heat of fury had climbed into Lance’s throat by the time Morgan parked at the curb in front of the office. Her face was as white as a fresh sheet of copy paper. She got out of the driver’s seat and opened the sliding side door. Sophie was still
31. Chapter Twenty-Five Morgan settled Sophie inside the house with Gianna. Then she stopped in her room and removed her gun from its safe. She changed into a pair of slacks with a belt to accommodate a holster at the back of her hip. Her jacket covered the weapon nicely. She went outside. Lance stood by the Jeep talking to Stella and Brody. Leaning on his cane in the driveway, Grandpa was wearing his sidearm. An icy shiver slid though Morgan’s belly. All this activity was because of one man, a violent sexual offender who Morgan had made contact with. It was her fault Burns had taken an interest in her. The former prosecutor in Morgan wanted nothing more than to put Harold Burns under police surveillance until he did something illegal. There was nothing in the man’s manner that indicated he was at all interested in being redeemed. In her opinion, it was only a matter of time until Burns gave in to his proclivities. “Thanks for hanging out here,” Morgan said to her sister. “Are you sure it’
32. Chapter Twenty-Six He paced the plywood floor of the storage container. The door was open, and daylight flooded the space. No point in closing it now. She was gone. No. Not gone. She’d left him. This was his first chance to examine the evidence. He’d tried to find her all night. And this morning he’d had other things to do. The distinction hit him squarely in the chest with an ache of betrayal. How could he have been so wrong about her? Why didn’t he foresee her deception? The mistake was his, not hers. He’d challenged a superior female, and she’d risen to the test. Overconfidence had been his error. It wouldn’t happen again. When he took her the next time, it would be final. She’d know there would be no getting away. And he would eliminate any reasons for her to escape, which meant he’d need to eliminate her family. But first he needed to know how she’d defeated him. He scanned the evidence in front of him. Squatting, he picked up the chain. The lock was opened, not broken, so she’d p
33. Chapter Twenty-Seven Chelsea rested her head on the pillow. Nerves hummed through her like electrical currents. Her body refused to accept that she was safe. They’d put her across from the nurses’ station to keep her under close observation. But it was the hub of the floor, crowded and noisy. Every bang of a metal tray or slam of a drawer startled her. The doctor, a tiny Asian woman with a calm demeanor, had said she was stable. But she didn’t feel very stable. According to the doctor, her body was still in flight mode. They’d offered her a sedative, but she’d said no. Why would she want to be drugged and helpless again? She shivered, tugging the heated blanket up to her chin. Would she ever be warm again? Her entire body ached, from her torn-up feet to her beaten face. Her eyeballs hurt if she moved them too quickly. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t cut, bruised, abraded, or exhausted. But she was here. Alive. She’d won. A sound in the doorway made her jump. Tim. Her heart stut
34. Chapter Twenty-Eight Lance and Morgan sat in the hospital waiting room. Morgan silently contemplated the dark-gray carpet. She hadn’t said a word since a nurse had come for Chelsea’s parents ten minutes before. Morgan’s eyes were dark and far away, and Lance wondered what difficult memory was playing in her mind. Several hours had passed since they’d seen the video in Tim’s kitchen. A few phone calls had verified that Chelsea had been taken to the hospital. A neighbor had been called to watch the children so that Tim, Patricia, and Rand could go to the hospital. Lance reached for Morgan’s hand, interlacing their fingers. Hers were cold. “Are you all right?” “When the chaplain came to the house to tell me that John was dead, I was alone. The girls were there, but I was the only adult. Sophie was still a baby. I don’t even remember the next couple of hours. I don’t know who took care of the children. Maybe the chaplain. Maybe the army officer who came with him. Maybe me.” She paused for
35. Chapter Twenty-Nine A child’s scream startled Morgan from a dead sleep. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The bed was cold. After being woken too many nights, Snoozer had abandoned Morgan to sleep with her grandfather. A second small cry floated through the open doorway. Sophie. Morgan listened intently for another sound. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. Just after midnight. She’d slept barely thirty minutes after staring at the ceiling and worrying about the case for an hour. Maybe the night terror will pass. The previous two episodes lasted at least ten minutes each, but the doctor had said their duration could be a short as a minute or so. It was possible that they’d get lucky and Sophie would settle on her own. A thumping noise verified that this would not be the case tonight. Bleary-eyed, Morgan tossed the comforter aside and stumbled out of bed. A chill swept over her. Grandpa liked to turn the thermostat down at night, and the old house could use new insulation.
36. Chapter Thirty “Don’t move, Grandpa.” Morgan used her cell to call for an ambulance. Then she brushed her daughter’s hair from her face. “Sophie, I need you to go inside with Gianna.” Sophie hugged her harder. For a second, Morgan thought she’d have to peel the frightened child from her body, but Sophie seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. She released Morgan and allowed Gianna to take her from her mother. Gianna carried the child back in the house. Morgan ran inside and grabbed a blanket from the back of the living room sofa. Back outside, she dropped to her knees beside her grandfather, tucked the blanket around his trembling body, and took his hand. “Twenty years ago, I would have chased that son of a bitch. Ten years ago, I would have shot him,” Grandpa wheezed, pain creasing his face. “But my hands are so shaky now, I was afraid I’d miss and hit you by accident.” Morgan held beck her tears. “You still saved us all tonight.” As always. “I wish I wasn’t so damned old.”
37. Chapter Thirty-One It was after one in the morning when Lance lugged three backpacks into his house. Then he went back to the Jeep and carried Ava and Mia inside, one by one, and tucked them into his guest bed. Gianna and Sophie walked in under their own steam. Unbelievably, Morgan’s littlest was still awake. Snoozer shuffled into the house, jumped up on the sofa, and curled into a ball. “The girls can sleep in the guest room. I can give you mine,” Lance said to Gianna. He’d sleep on the couch. After he moved the dog. Gianna shook her head. “I’ll share with the girls. That way, if they wake up and don’t know where they are, I’ll be there.” “Will all four of you fit?” Lance’s guest bed was a queen size but still . . . “They’re small.” Gianna hadn’t bothered to dress. In her flannel pajamas and oversize sweatshirt, the eighteen-year-old looked much younger. Even with the pounds she’d gained since moving in with Morgan, Gianna was still slender, though less frail and much healthier than w
38. Chapter Thirty-Two He paced the yard between the storage container and the shed. The morning chill hung in the damp air, but rage warmed his blood to boiling. Chelsea. Chelsea. Chelsea. Grabbing his head between his hands, he pressed on his skull, but his brain continued to whisper her name. What had he done? He’d gone to the hospital, intent on seeing Chelsea, to figure out how he was going to get her back. Instead, he’d found a sheriff’s deputy at her door. The image of the lady lawyer at the press conference had popped into his head, and all of his rage had landed on her with the force of a speeding truck. As the family’s lawyer, she would be able to get to Chelsea. If he could force her to help him. Women were weak, he’d reasoned. It was too easy to use their children as leverage against them. That had been his plan. The lawyer lived with three small children, a sickly girl, and an elderly man. How hard could it be? But he’d failed. He hadn’t expected the old man to be armed. He ha
39. Chapter Thirty-Three “The girls seemed happy with Mac’s brother.” Standing in the doorway of Lance’s office, Morgan lifted a gigantic cup of coffee to her lips and drank. It was her third, but there just wasn’t enough caffeine to jump-start her brain today. They’d dropped off Grandpa’s car and Morgan’s minivan at her house and picked up Lance’s Jeep. “They were excited to go to the house with the creek and the big, sloppy dog,” Lance clarified. “It’s a relief to know they’re safe.” Mac’s brother was a former army officer. “You look exhausted,” Lance said. She gave him a wry smile. “You don’t look so chipper yourself.” “I slept more than you did.” Lance stood. “And Sophie might actually like me now.” Sometimes the little lifts in life helped get you over the big hurdles. “Here.” Sharp walked down the hall. He handed her a protein shake and gave one to Lance. “Thank you.” Morgan sipped the shake. “If neither of you will sleep, this is the best I can do.” He frowned at her coffee cup. “Ho
40. Chapter Thirty-Four “So, what have you been up to, Kirk?” Lance asked. Inside the fish-bowl conference room at Speed Net, Morgan sat at Lance’s left. Kirk Armani and Elliot Pagano, who insisted on being present, had taken seats across from them. Lance leaned back in his chair and tried to act casual. But apparently, he wasn’t a very good actor. Kirk Armani held his upturned skateboard in his lap and spun the wheels with trembling fingers. The kid looked like hell. His clothes were wrinkled. He refused to make any eye contact at all. He and Morgan had knocked on Kirk’s apartment door. When no one answered, they’d driven over to Speed Net to talk to him. Lance scanned the main room through the glass. Despite it being a Saturday afternoon, Speed Net was humming with activity. Elliot crossed his arms over his chest. “What is this all about? I thought Chelsea had been found.” “We are not law enforcement officers. Kirk is under no obligation to talk to us,” Lance said. “But another woman wen
41. Chapter Thirty-Five “We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Morgan studied the Clarks over the coffee table in their living room. Dressed in a cozy sweater and yoga pants, Chelsea held her baby in her arms. Tim and Bella flanked her on the sofa. Bella curled up into her mother; Tim’s shoulder pressed into his wife’s. Their connection went beyond physical touch. Morgan could feel their bond, their unity, from across the six feet of space that separated her and Lance from the family. “Bella, it’s time for your bath,” Chelsea’s mother called from the doorway and held out her hand toward the little girl. Chelsea’s father stood behind his wife, looking lost, as if he didn’t know what to do. Bella hesitated, looking up at her mother, and Morgan’s heart bumped in her chest. The poor child was confused and vulnerable. Chelsea gave her daughter a one-armed hug. “Go with Grandma. I’ll read you a story after your bath.” The little girl obeyed, casting a reluctant glance back at Chelsea as she lef
42. Chapter Thirty-Six A few minutes before midnight, Lance drove past Harold Burns’s one-story house. A quarter mile down the road, he steered the Jeep off the side of the road and parked behind a few evergreens. If Burns had slipped out of his house while the SFPD was watching him, he would have gone through the woods to the auto shop. What was good for the goose, in this case, could also be used for the goose hunters. “You ready?” In the passenger seat, Morgan checked the weapon in her holster and zipped her black jacket closed over it. “Yes.” Lance slid some extra ammunition into the thick pocket of his dark cargos. Though he wasn’t cold, he tugged a black knit cap over his bright-blond hair. Morgan’s hat was for warmth. She tucked a flashlight into her pocket. He did the same, then loaded the rest of his equipment, including a pair of night vision binoculars, into a small backpack. They got out of the Jeep and walked along the edge of the woods so they could duck into the trees if a c
43. Chapter Thirty-Seven A scream sounded from the trailer. Morgan dialed 911 and gave the salvage yard address. She shoved the phone into her pocket and searched the clearing for Lance. A man swung a board at Lance. He spun and ducked to evade it. The board struck him across the back of the shoulders. He fell to the ground, stunned, and lay still. His attacker dropped the board and jumped on top of him. No! Morgan pulled her gun from its holster and ran forward. The attacker straddled Lance’s chest and threw a punch at his face. Lance wrapped his arm around his head to block the incoming fist. Morgan stopped ten feet away and aimed the gun at the fighting men. “Freeze!” The attacker ignored her and punched Lance in the ribs; Lance recoiled from the blow. The man reached for the gun in Lance’s holster. Lance clamped both hands over his opponent’s, keeping the gun secure. They struggled for control of the weapon. Lance bucked and rolled. And Morgan had no clear shot. She changed her angle b
44. Chapter Thirty-Eight Morgan paced Lance’s guest room, her cell phone pressed to her ear as she talked to her sister. Her nerves were still frayed by what happened with the Burns brothers that night—and by the sight of Karen Mitchell chained up in that trailer. But rescuing Karen was worth every drop of clammy sweat and rush of adrenaline-induced nausea. If only Grandpa would wake up. “So there’s no change?” she asked Peyton. “No.” Behind Peyton’s low voice, a monitor beeped in a steady rhythm. “He’s stable. Please try to get some sleep.” “When do you think he’ll wake up?” “I’m a doctor, not a psychic, Jim,” Peyton said in her best Dr. McCoy voice. Morgan appreciated her sister’s attempt to lighten her mood, but she didn’t have the energy to laugh. “You’ll call me if anything happens?” “I promise.” Peyton’s tone grew sincere again. “I will watch over him all night. I’ve got this covered. Go. To. Sleep.” “OK.” “And Morgan?” “Yes?” “Grandpa is tough,” Peyton said. “Don’t give up on him ye
45. Chapter Thirty-Nine The bedroom was bright with daylight when Lance woke. He rolled over to find the bed next to him empty and cold. For a few seconds, he wondered if he’d dreamed making love with Morgan. But her scent on the pillow next to him assured him it had happened. The memory gave him a rush of lust, quickly doused with concern. Where was she? Why wasn’t she in bed? He stepped into his sweatpants and padded barefoot into the living room. Morgan sat on his couch, the case files spread across his coffee table. He glanced at the clock. Eight a.m. He’d slept maybe four hours. “Did you sleep at all?” he asked. He was still groggy. She’d slept even less than he had over the past few days. “I did. I’ve only been up about an hour.” Over the dark circles, her eyes were bright with interest. She wore his sweatpants and T-shirt, and her hair tumbled around her face in a tousled wave that made him want to scoop her up and take her back to bed. Even if it was just to make her sleep. But he
46. Chapter Forty “Have you checked on Chelsea Clark?” Morgan asked. She and Lance faced the sheriff across his desk. “I talked to Tim right after you called me.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “She’s doing as well as can be expected.” He and his deputies wore wrinkled uniforms and smelled like they’d been working for thirty-six hours straight. Morgan explained what they found out about Derek Pagano. “Is he on your list of Speed Net employees?” With a long-suffering sigh, the sheriff tipped his body forward. He swiveled his chair and pulled the file from a bin on his credenza. Pivoting back to his desk, he opened the file on his blotter, flipped though pages, and scanned lists. He frowned. “I don’t see his name here.” “You didn’t know he was a sex offender?” Morgan asked. “No. But we’ve found evidence that Harold and Jerry Burns have been very busy. There were photos of other women, chained, beaten.” He paused. “Dead. We found pictures of Sarah Bernard.” “So, they definitely killed
47. Chapter Forty-One Chelsea woke with a start. The darkness suffocated her. She drew in a gasp of air, and her heart leaped into a full panicked sprint. “Hey, Chels. It’s OK.” A light clicked on. Tim was sitting in a chair by the window, an electronic tablet on his lap. He got up and moved to the side of the bed. He put a hand on her forehead. She flinched. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help it. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled to cover the hurt in his eyes. “You can’t expect to go through what you did and not be affected. We’ll get through this.” He put his hand out on the bed, palm up, and waited for her to take the initiative. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be touched at all. Her body hurt. From her face to her feet, there wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t ache. She shifted her legs under the blanket. The burn on her buttock blazed. Agony shot from the brand, radiating like a starburst into her hip and thigh. “I don’t feel safe here.” She’d been taken from her own driveway. How w
48. Chapter Forty-Two Moonlight lit his way. He cruised past the Clarks’ house. No police car. The sheriff’s department thought they had Chelsea’s kidnapper and had pulled their deputy from his babysitting duty. Tim’s Toyota was parked in the driveway, but the Dodge rental car was gone. Chelsea’s parents must have left as well. This was exactly what he’d been hoping for. Perfect timing. He parked at the curb in front of a house catty-corner from the Clark residence. The neighbors had teenagers and cars coming and going at all hours. No one would notice one more vehicle. Last time he’d come here, the night he’d brought her home with him, he’d ridden his road bike and hidden it behind some bushes. Tonight, she’d be coming with him in his car. Anger rose in his throat. She’d left him to return to Tim. This time, he’d make sure Chelsea had no husband to return to. She would never choose another man over him again. Tim had to go. The kids too. Chelsea would never let go of her old family and em
49. Chapter Forty-Three “Put your hands on top of your head.” Lance stepped out of the closet in the nursery, both his gun and the beam of his flashlight pointed at Derek Pagano. Lance hadn’t liked Morgan’s plan one bit, but her instincts had been dead-on. Standing in front of the crib, wearing a blonde wig and Chelsea’s robe, Morgan pointed her own weapon at the intruder. Derek stopped, slack-jawed for a few second. “You!” Morgan pulled the wig off her head and tossed it into the crib. It landed next to the cell phone playing a recorded sound of a baby crying. Lance hadn’t liked her idea to trap Derek by pretending to be Chelsea, but he had to admit the plan had worked brilliantly. Chelsea had been upstairs when Morgan and Lance had arrived at the house. Lance’s knock on the door had scared Chelsea, and she’d been easy to convince that getting her family out of the house and letting Morgan take her place was their best chance to catch her kidnapper. Derek’s eyes darted to the door, to Lan
50. Chapter Forty-Four Thirty minutes later, Morgan stood in front of Chelsea and Tim’s house. She wrapped her arms around her waist. Her initial nausea after the showdown with Derek had faded. Adrenaline had deserted her, leaving her limbs shaky and weak. Derek’s revelations had not been a complete surprise. But she was too spent to fully process what he’d told them. Lance thought his story was bullshit. Morgan didn’t know what to believe. “Morgan!” Stella’s voice pierced the busy scene. Morgan braced herself for her sister’s fury. Stella weaved her way through a foursome of patrol officers and sheriff’s deputies. Both departments had responded to the 911 call. Stopping in front of Morgan, Stella propped her hands on her hips. “What the hell were you doing?” Morgan hugged her body against the night chill. She’d ditched Chelsea’s robe in the house so she could move faster. “What did you want me to do? Call you and tell you we had a hunch that Derek Pagano was Chelsea’s kidnapper, and we we
51. Chapter Forty-Five Monday morning dawned brightly—too brightly for someone who’d slept only a few hours. Morgan squinted through her sunglasses and clutched her extralarge coffee like a security blanket as Lance escorted her across the parking lot of the sheriff’s station. “I owe Mac’s brother a favor or ten,” Morgan said. Grant Barrett had volunteered to drive the girls to school and drop Gianna at dialysis that morning. “I’m not sure how I’ll ever repay them.” “I doubt he’s looking for repayment. Mac said they just wanted your kids to be safe.” “Well, I’m eternally grateful.” Everyone in the sheriff’s department looked ragged. The deep bags under Sheriff King’s eyes said he’d been up all night, but he’d shaved and his clothes were fresh. She probably didn’t look much better. “Come this way.” Sheriff King waved Morgan and Lance into a conference room. “Elliot Pagano was here most of the night. He gave a full confession. Do you want to watch his interview?” “Yes.” Morgan concealed her
52. Chapter Forty-Six “I brought ice cream.” Sharp walked into Lance’s house. “I’m sure the kids will love it,” Lance said. Sharp froze. “Wow. This is different.” Lance’s stark, minimalistic decor had been revamped. Toys littered the floor, girly backpacks were piled by the sofa, and coloring books and crayons covered his coffee table. Mia and Ava knelt on the carpet, playing a game of Candy Land. Rocket followed Sharp inside. “My house is a little tight for six people, but we’re making it work.” Lance closed the door. It’s only for a couple of days. The alarm company is updating the entire system.” Morgan and the girls were staying with Lance until her security rivaled that of the White House. Gianna, Mia, and Ava were sleeping in Lance’s room. Morgan and Sophie had the guest room. Until Sophie outgrew her night terrors, she couldn’t share a room with her sisters. Lance was bunking on the couch. Even without Sophie’s night terrors, Lance knew there’d be no sleeping together with the kids
53. Acknowledgments As always, credit goes to my agent, Jill Marsal, and to the entire team at Montlake Romance, especially my managing editor, Anh Schluep, developmental editor, Charlotte Herscher, and author herder/tech goddess Jessica Poore. Special thanks to Leanne Sparks for her patience and help with some of the procedural elements of this story. She saved me weeks of research.
54. About the Author Photo © 2016 Jared Gruenwald Photography Wall Street Journal bestselling author Melinda Leigh is a fully recovered banker. A lifelong lover of books, she started writing as a way to preserve her sanity when her youngest child entered first grade. During the next few years, she joined Romance Writers of America, learned a few things about writing a novel, and decided the process was way more fun than analyzing financial statements. Melinda’s debut novel, She Can Run, was nominated for Best First Novel by the International Thriller Writers. She’s also garnered Golden Leaf and Silver Falchion awards, along with nominations for a RITA and three Daphne du Maurier Awards. Her other novels include She Can Tell, She Can Scream, She Can Hide, She Can Kill, Midnight Exposure, Midnight Sacrifice, Midnight Betrayal, Midnight Obsession, Hour of Need, Minutes to Kill, Seconds to Live, and Say You’re Sorry. She holds a second-degree black belt in Kenpo karate; teaches women’s self-de