Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2)(83)

“We’re so sorry we brought this all up, Kirk,” Morgan apologized. “I’m frightened for my children. I’m just trying to keep them safe.”

“I’d never hurt a kid. I like kids.” Kirk sniffed and wiped the back of his hand under his nose. “Kids are nice to me.”

As opposed to adults . . .

And Lance felt like he’d just kicked a kitten.

He rubbed his sternum, where frustration burned like a bad case of heartburn. Another dead end.

“Besides, I was here all night.” Kirk finally lifted his gaze and briefly let it connect with Lance’s, like a moth bouncing off a hot light bulb. “Me and the team worked late. We ordered pizza and played Overlook most of the night. I fell asleep on the couch.”

“You’ve been here all night?” Lance clarified. “With your team members?”

Kirk nodded.

“I’m so sorry we bothered you.” Morgan stood. “Thank you for clearing that up for us.”

Elliot escorted them to the lobby. “Next time you want to talk to me or one of my employees on corporate property, you’ll have to go through my attorney.”

He watched them exit. The door closed behind them with a solid and final thud. Lance and Morgan stepped out into the parking lot. The temperature had dropped since they’d gone inside.

“Well, I feel like a total bully.” Lance unlocked the Jeep.

“Me too.” Morgan climbed into the passenger seat. After he settled behind the wheel, she said. “This case has me feeling all sorts of terrible. Since when am I willing to harass law-abiding citizens or ignore the law?”

“Since the threat became personal.” Lance started the engine and drove out of the lot. “That kid will be OK. You did what you had to do. Surely, you were hard on witnesses and defendants when you were a prosecutor?”

“When necessary, yes.” She pushed her hair off her face. “But their involvement in the case was always established beforehand. For the most part, I already knew what they were going to tell me.”

“The police sorted through the witnesses for you. This is what it’s like when you’re chasing down leads.”

“Yes. You’re right. As an ADA, I didn’t get involved in cases until arrests were made.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “This is frustrating.”

“You haven’t slept. You haven’t taken a break. You didn’t even finish that protein shake Sharp made you, and now it’s lunchtime.” Lance glanced over, worried. The circles under Morgan’s eyes were dark enough to match the bruises around her throat. Her home had been invaded, her family threatened, and then she’d spent the night in the hospital waiting room.

Lack of sleep was making him punchy, she must feel ten times worse.

“Have you checked in on your grandfather?” he asked.

She pulled her phone out of her enormous bag. “I haven’t heard from Stella for a while. I’ll call her.”

She pressed the phone to her ear and conferred in a low, anxious tone for a few minutes before lowering the cell to her lap. “There’s no change in his condition. He hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Do you want to stop by and see him?”

Morgan nodded. “Yes. We’re at an impasse with this investigation. The SFPD is watching Harold Burns. I haven’t heard from Tim, but there’s a county sheriff’s deputy assigned to protect Chelsea. I don’t know what else to do at this point.” Her voice broke. “And I think I should see him, just in case.”

The break in her voice implied “in case it’s my last chance.”

Lance drove toward the hospital. He dropped Morgan at the door, then parked the Jeep. When he caught up with her in the ICU waiting area, she was talking to her worn-out and wrinkled sister.

Stella’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her nose was red, as if she’d been crying. She handed Morgan a book, a popular crime fiction paperback. “I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve been reading to him.”

Morgan took the paperback and smiled sadly. “He loves to criticize police procedurals.”

“I was hoping he’d wake up and rant about all the errors.” Stella hugged her sister. “I’m going to have a shower and a nap. Then I’ll be back.”

“Still nothing from Ian?” Morgan asked.

“No.” Stella took her keys from her pocket. “But Peyton got on a flight a few hours ago. She should be here by dinnertime. So maybe she can take over the night shift.”

Stella left. Morgan and Lance were buzzed through the double doors into the ICU. They went into Art’s glassed-in room. He looked small, and the machines surrounding him were intimidating.