“Sharp?” Lance called.
Sharp poked his head around the doorway. “What?”
“The sheriff’s office is using satellite images to try and locate the place where Chelsea was held,” Lance said. “A clearing with a small house or cabin and a shipping container that may or may not be visible from above. Maybe you can try to track shipping container purchases?”
“I’ll see what kind of satellite photos I can dig up too. If the container has been there awhile, maybe it was visible in older images.” Sharp disappeared.
Morgan had spent her whole life defending the law, but at this point, she’d been pushed over the line. No. That wasn’t true. She was running over it. Her children had been threatened. That superseded all legal requirements. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect them.
Which was interesting because when she’d been an assistant district attorney, she’d prosecuted several vigilante-type crimes with a no exception to the law inflexibility that now seemed naive. Her stomach rolled, and she fished in her bag for a roll of antacids, popping two in her mouth.
“Are you all right?” Lance asked in a concerned voice.
“I am.” Morgan reached for a bottle of water on her credenza. She chased the antacids down with two ibuprofen tablets from her desk drawer. “Let’s go find this bastard before he hurts anyone else.”
Sharp reappeared in the doorway. “Too late.”
Morgan’s belly clenched.
“A woman named Karen Mitchell was reported missing this morning. She left her parents’ house to go for a run in the state park. She never came home. She’s young. And she’s blonde.”
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 went missing.”
Elliot straightened. “That’s terrible, but I’m still confused as to why you are here this morning. Are you still working for Tim?”
“We are. Tim and Chelsea want to know who kidnapped her,” Morgan said. “And last night someone broke in to my home and threatened me and my family. We think it might have been the same person who kidnapped Chelsea.”
“I’m sorry,” Elliot said. “That must have been terrifying.”
“Yes. It was.” Morgan interlaced her fingers on the table. “Kirk, we know about the restraining order that was filed against you.”
Kirk paled. “I didn’t mean to harass her. I wasn’t stalking her. I promise.”
Sweat broke out on his forehead. He stopped spinning the skateboard wheels and gripped the edges of the board with both hands.
“It’s OK, Kirk,” Elliot soothed. “This is old news. Kirk didn’t mean any harm.”
Kirk shook his head almost violently. “She never asked me to stop talking to her. I didn’t know.”
“He was working here at the time?” Lance asked.
“Yes. He was really upset. I helped him sort it all out.” Elliot’s mouth tightened. “The young woman gave Kirk hints that she wasn’t interested in him. Kirk didn’t read those hints. When he asked her out on a date, and she turned him down by saying she had to clip her cat’s toenails, he took her at her word.”
“I didn’t know.” Kirk’s breaths came harder and faster.
“Calm down, Kirk. It’s fine.” Elliot leveled a hard glare at Lance and Morgan in turn. “Kirk has trouble with social cues. If the young woman had just told him she didn’t like him, he would have backed down. But she didn’t. She was snarky and sarcastic—two things Kirk has trouble interpreting well. He kept asking her out, thinking eventually her schedule would clear.”
Disappointment flashed through Lance. Not that he wanted this kid to be guilty. He felt bad for Kirk. But he wanted to find the man responsible.