“Not at this time.” The sheriff frowned at her. “I need statements from you both. Now.”
“When we talked with Chelsea earlier, she mentioned an oily odor.”
“And you didn’t call me?” The sheriff chewed his molars.
“She specifically said it didn’t smell like motor oil, but it made us think hard about Burns.” With a glance at Lance, Morgan gave a very abbreviated version of their search of the property. She didn’t mention their trip through Harold’s garage. If asked, she wouldn’t lie. But there was no point in volunteering the information. When she was finished, she asked, “How did you get here so quickly?”
“We’ve been watching Harold and Jerry all night,” the sheriff said. “Chief Horner called me to tell me the DA forced him to cease his surveillance. Considering that we’ve been searching for Ms. Mitchell, I decided we should focus on this area. But we had no good reason to search the property until you called in that scream.”
“You’re welcome,” Lance said drily.
The sheriff glared.
Lance finished describing the events of the night. The sheriff released them with a threat of arrest if they didn’t report to his office first thing in the morning to cross t’s and dot i’s. The walk back to the Jeep was only a few hundred yards, but it seemed like miles.
“I don’t like it.” Morgan crawled into the passenger seat.
“What?”
“I can’t explain it. Something feels unfinished.”
“We still have to deal with the sheriff again tomorrow.” Lance started the engine. “I’m tired of his controlling bullshit.”
“He didn’t arrest us for trespassing.”
“But he wanted to. He wishes he was the one who found Karen Mitchell.” Lance drove out onto the road. “He’s been chomping at the bit all night, wanting to search the property but without enough evidence for a warrant.”
“The laws exist for a reason.” Morgan pressed her head to the back of the seat.
“We saved that woman’s life tonight,” Lance said. “Who knows if she would have still been alive in the morning? The Burnses could have killed her and buried her out in the woods before the sheriff accumulated enough evidence to satisfy a judge that there was probable cause. Would you rather Karen Mitchell have spent the night in that trailer? I would rather go to jail.”
“So would I,” she said. “Which is why we did what we did tonight.”
“Plus, I’ll bet forensics will find evidence that the first victim and Chelsea were both held in that trailer. Chelsea will be able to go on with her life knowing that the men who kidnapped her are behind bars. Your family can rest easy too.”
“I know.” But uneasiness stirred in Morgan’s belly. It didn’t feel over.
“Do you think they’ll get a plea deal?” Lance asked.
“I doubt it. After what happened last month, the DA needs to save some face, and he’s up for reelection next month. He’s going to promise to bring the hammer down. A high-publicity case against a previously convicted sex offender and his brother is media fodder. Plus, New York no longer has a death penalty. What can the DA offer the Burns brothers in exchange for a guilty plea? This is a particularly heinous crime. The Burns brothers kidnapped and held a woman captive for eight months, impregnated her, and then beat her to death. The beating also killed her unborn baby. They are going to prison, probably for life.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“We’ll know more after we talk to the sheriff tomorrow. The forensics team will be in that trailer all night. Let’s see what they find and then reassess the case.” Lance drove toward town. “We’re both too tired to think straight. We need food and sleep. We’ve been running on adrenaline all night. The most useful thing we can do is get some rest and look at the facts with fresh eyes in the morning.”
“You’re right.” She was wired. Her blood was still humming even though her eyelids were as gritty as sandpaper.
There was something lurking in her exhausted brain, a connection she was too tired to make.
Were adrenaline and stress stimulating her paranoia? Or was her subconscious issuing her a warning?
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.