Say You're Sorry

She had one option: Lance.

She drove home distracted, her mind on the case, and pulled into her driveway as if on auto-pilot. No one was home. She checked her watch. Not even lunchtime yet. On Friday mornings, the house was typically empty. Gianna had dialysis, Sophie was in preschool, and Grandpa played chauffeur.

Grabbing her purse, Morgan climbed out of the van and went up the front walk. Her phone buzzed with an email, and she dug it out of the pocket of her bag. She was opening her email app as she approached the house.

She was nearly to the door before she saw it. Her phone slipped from her fingers and hit the brick path.

It couldn’t be.

Her brain refused to believe what she was seeing. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second then opened them again. But it was still there.

Just below the monogrammed pewter knocker, a bloody heart was pinned to the door with a knife.

Chapter Fifteen

“A knife through the heart?” Anger surged through Lance as he viewed the photo Morgan handed him.

“The symbolism is clear.” Morgan rubbed her biceps and perched on the second folding chair he’d brought into his makeshift office.

By agreeing to defend Nick, in the neighbors’ eyes, Morgan had turned on them.

“It’s a cow heart. I reported it to the police.” Morgan shivered and crossed her long legs. “They took pictures and filed a report. I doubt anything will come of it. No one in the community except Bud is on Nick’s side.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Where can you get a cow heart? I called the local grocery stores and butcher shops. No luck.”

“Have you called the ethnic markets? There’s an Asian supermarket out near the interstate. Sharp goes there to buy sweet potato greens. I know they carry more than the usual cuts of meat. I’ve seen whole chickens and pig heads.” Lance handed the picture back to her. “What about your grandfather’s surveillance camera?”

“It’s not working.” She slid it into her briefcase. “The alarm company came the other day but they couldn’t repair it. They’re replacing it on Monday.”

As disturbing as it was, he sensed she hadn’t come to discuss the cow heart someone had nailed to her front door. So why was she here?

Footsteps sounded in the hall.

“Lance?” Sharp called.

“In here,” Lance answered.

Sharp appeared in the doorway, and Lance introduced them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Morgan said. “I really need to speak with you both.”

“In that case, let’s go into my office. I have actual chairs.” Sharp stepped back and gestured across the hall. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she said.

Sharp ushered Morgan into his office. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the kitchen.

Lance settled in the chair next to Morgan. Back in the kitchen, water rushed and an igniter on the stove clicked.

Morgan turned to Lance. “I don’t want to spring anything on you. If you’d rather we talk in private . . .”

Lance stopped her. “It’s fine. You can say anything in front of Sharp.” He paused, briefly considering that he wanted to share the intimate details of his past with her and what that implied. “Did I ever tell you about my father?”

“I know he wasn’t in your life, but you’ve never elaborated. You didn’t seem to want to talk about him.” Morgan’s head tilted. “I assumed he’d walked out.”

That’s what everyone had assumed. “When I was ten, my dad vanished.”

Morgan straightened. “Vanished?”

“He literally went out for bread and milk one night and never came home.”

“That’s horrible.” Morgan placed a hand to her throat.

Lance turned away from Morgan and her pity. Outside the office window, the wind stirred a pile of dead leaves on the front lawn. They swirled into the air, then tumbled across the grass, at the mercy of the wind. Much like a ten-year-old Lance had helplessly watched his life cartwheel out of control. As much as he tried to leave his youth behind, he couldn’t help but wonder if his father was dead or alive. Had he met with foul play or had he truly walked away from his family?

“Did the police ever find him?” she asked.

“No.” Lance swallowed. Composed, he pivoted to face her. “Sharp was the detective on the case. He worked it for about a year until the department made him put it aside, unofficially of course. Officially, cops work each case until it’s resolved. But in reality, limited resources have to be channeled to current crimes.”

“That must have been terrible to live through.”

“It was,” Lance said. “But after the case went cold, Sharp kept an eye on me and my mom over the years.”

More than an eye. If it hadn’t been for Sharp, Lance wondered if he’d have gone to college or become a cop or grown into a sane, productive member of society.

“My point is, there isn’t much Sharp doesn’t know about me. He’s more than a business associate. It’s fine to talk in front of him.”

“I’m glad you told me.” Her eyes warmed.

Why had he told her? Not many people besides Sharp knew about the horror that his teenage years had become. The truth had been too painful to talk about. As a kid, it had been easier to let everyone think his parents were divorced and his mom was never around because she worked overtime to pay the bills. Circumstances had limited his social life, and he certainly hadn’t shared her mental breakdown with his very few friends.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Morgan would think of his mom. He certainly didn’t tell any of the women he dated casually that his father had disappeared. And By the way, my mother has a serious mental illness wasn’t the best lead-in for future dates. Lance had had several quasi-serious relationships. None had survived the meeting-the-parents stage. It was just too much to expect anyone else to deal with his mother’s issues. Morgan already carried more than her share of responsibility. How could he possibly ask her to shoulder any more?

And this was why they could only be friends, no matter how much Lance would like more. Cups rattled in the kitchen. A few minutes later, Sharp carried a tray to his desk. He handed a cup to Morgan.

She took it in both hands, cradling it as if to warm her fingers. “As you might know, I’ve agreed to defend Nick Zabrowski.”

Sharp nodded. “I saw you on the news.”

“I won’t lie. Defending Nick won’t be easy. The DA has already convinced the public that Nick is guilty, and from what I’ve seen of the evidence, the case is daunting.”

Lance leaned forward. “Someone pinned a cow’s heart to Morgan’s front door with a knife today.”

“Classy.” Sharp exhaled, concern and respect filling his eyes. “But that won’t stop you.”

“No.” Morgan’s eyes lifted, and her blue eyes blazed with conviction. “Nick has lived across the street from my grandfather for years. He mows our lawn. He plays chess with Grandpa. My girls love him. I just can’t believe Nick could harbor the level of rage necessary . . .” Letting the thought trail off, she set her tea aside. “Our neighborhood is closely knit. I also knew Tessa. She babysat for my girls. As much as I want to prove Nick didn’t kill her, I also want to find the person who did.”