What I've Done (Morgan Dane Book 4)(46)

She summoned a young man in a suit. “Tony, please cover registrations for a few minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tony took her place behind the desk.

“Follow me.” Carol led them down a hallway to a meticulously neat and organized office. Carol rounded the antique mahogany desk and sat behind it. She gestured to two equally old schoolhouse chairs that faced her. “Is this about Shannon?”

Morgan perched in the wooden chair. “Yes.”

“You’re a lawyer. Have they arrested someone in her death?” Carol asked.

“Not that I’ve heard.” Morgan introduced Lance. “We’re actually working another case, and we’ve come across something that might tie the two together.”

Carol leaned back in her chair. “I’ll do anything I can to help find the man who hurt Shannon.”

The old chair creaked and shifted as Lance sat on it. “How long had Shannon been working here?”

“A few months. She started right before the Christmas holiday.” Carol took a long breath. “I hired her as a favor. Her mother is a friend of a friend, and Shannon had been out of work for some time.”

“Was she a good employee?” he asked.

“Very.” Carol rocked forward and leaned her forearms on her desk. “Shannon was reliable. She worked her butt off. She appreciated the job, and it showed.” Carol blinked back a tear. “I reported her missing to the police. When she didn’t show up for work, I knew something was wrong.”

“Did she act normally the last time you saw her?” Morgan used a gentle voice.

“She seemed perfectly normal,” Carol said. “I still can’t believe—” A sob cut off her words. Her eyes filled with tears. She plucked a tissue from a box on her desk. “I’m sorry.”

“Take as much time as you need.” Morgan waited until the woman took several deep breaths and collected herself. “When did you last see her?”

Carol wiped her nose with the tissue. “Friday, February 23. She had the weekend off and wasn’t due back until Monday.”

Lance leaned forward. “Is it unusual to give your staff weekends off? Aren’t those your busiest days?”

Carol nodded. “Only one or two employees can have off each weekend. They rotate. It was Shannon’s turn.” Carol pressed the tissue to her face. “It was her first weekend off.”

“But she didn’t mention any specific plans?” he asked.

Had Shannon been excited for her weekend off? It would have been her first opportunity to spend a Saturday night at the club.

“No.” Carol tossed her tissue in the trash can under her desk and took a fresh one.

Morgan slipped her phone from her bag and pulled up a picture of Roger McFarland. “Do you recognize this man?”

Carol put her glasses on and glanced at the phone. “No. Who is he?”

How could she not know her own landscaper? Lance wanted to call bullshit, but he saw no duplicity in her face.

“Would you look closer?” Morgan handed her the phone.

Carol took a second, longer look and frowned. “He still doesn’t look familiar.”

“His name is Roger McFarland, and his landscaping sign is in your side yard.” Lance studied her face.

“Oh.” Carol shrugged. “I’ve never met the owner of the company. A foreman and crew come out once a week to cut the grass in season. They also handle our spring and fall cleanups and take care of snow removal. Neither Bob nor I can handle the backbreaking work anymore.”

“You don’t know if Mr. McFarland has ever been to the inn?” Lance asked.

“My husband handles the outside maintenance.” Carol handed Morgan’s phone back. “Would you like me to ask Bob?”

Morgan slid her phone back into her bag. “That would be very helpful.”

Carol sent a text. “He should be here in a minute.”

True to her word, a middle-aged man in gray slacks and a blue button-down shirt came into the office. He gave Morgan and Lance curious looks.

His wife introduced them. “They’re here about Shannon.”

Bob’s eyes softened, and he closed the office door. “We’re all very upset about her death.”

“We’re sorry to dredge it all up again,” Lance began. “But can you tell us if Roger McFarland has been to the inn since Shannon was hired?”

Bob took off his wire-rimmed glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, his head cocked, as if he were thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen Roger since September, when we met to discuss the fall cleanup and the replacement of a couple of shrubs. Usually, I deal with his foreman.”

Disappointment slipped thorough Lance. “But the crew has been here to clear snow?”

“Yes.” Bob hooked his glasses behind his ears. “We had quite a few snowfalls this year. We’re very happy for the early spring.”

The winter had been cold and snowy.

“Is there any way to know for sure if Shannon was working on any of the days that McFarland’s crew came to do snow removal?” Lance asked.

“Why?” Bob’s eyes narrowed. “Is Roger mixed up in this?”

“We have no evidence of that,” Morgan said quickly. “The fact that he contracts with your inn is probably a simple coincidence.”

“I don’t have a record of the times he came to plow and shovel. I pay a monthly fee, and he removes any snow deeper than a couple of inches.” Bob propped a hand on his hip. “His company contracts with many of the local businesses. In fact, I got his name from Peter Wence, who owns that retail strip down the road. I believe you’ll see McFarland’s yard signs all over this area.”

Lance considered the information. As a previous offender with a history of violence and no respect for women, Roger McFarland was an excellent suspect. On the other hand, linking McFarland to Shannon’s murder might sever the connection with Noah’s case.

“Do you need anything else?” Bob asked, glancing at his watch. “The restaurant will be opening soon.”

“Just one more thing.” Morgan opened her tote and took out some photos in an envelope. She turned them to face Carol, dealing them out on the desk like a game of solitaire: Kieran, Isaac, Justin, Chase, Noah, and Adam. “Do you recognize any of these young men?”

Both Carol and Bob scanned the pictures and nodded without any hesitation.

Bob tapped Justin O’Brien’s picture. “Justin made a new logo for the inn. The old one was terribly outdated. We had new menus, business cards, and brochures printed last month.”

“Did Justin come to the inn?” Excitement gathered in Lance’s gut.

“Just once. We found him through an online freelancer site. We discussed our needs in a phone call and emails. But he did come to the inn to show us a dozen potential designs. He didn’t seem thrilled about the face-to-face meeting. I understand that most business today is conducted online, but I’m afraid I’m old-fashioned. I like to meet the people I’m going to do business with. And Justin was local, so there seemed to be no reason to make an exception.”

“What did you think of Justin?” Lance kept his voice level, but inside he was encouraged for the first time since they’d taken this case.

“He was awkward and a little shy, but then I suppose he spends most of his day on the computer.” Bob shook his head. “Young people today are losing their ability to talk to other people.”

“Do either of you remember if Shannon was working when he came to the inn?” Morgan asked.

“We don’t have to remember.” Bob took out his phone. “I’ll check my calendar.”

Carol turned to the desktop computer on the other side of the L-shaped desk. She moved the mouse. When the screen brightened, she typed in a password.

Bob looked up from his phone. “Justin was here at five p.m. on January 9.”

Carol tapped on the keyboard. “Shannon worked the registration desk that day from two to ten p.m.”

Justin had been at the inn at the same time as Shannon.





Chapter Thirty-Five

Sharp paced his office, frustrated. Lance and Morgan had called to bring him up to speed on the case. If Shannon Yates had been at Beats the night she’d gone missing, then how was her case related to Haley’s? Could Justin O’Brien be a serial rapist and killer? Even if he was and he killed Shannon, how did they tie the murder of Shannon Yates to Noah’s death? Raping and strangling a woman was a very different crime from stabbing a man.

Justin O’Brien had done work for the inn where Shannon Yates had been employed. McFarland’s landscaping sign had appeared at the same inn. Justin’s link strengthened a connection between the cases, but McFarland’s suggested the cases were unrelated.

What Sharp needed were more details on Shannon Yates’s case, but how could he get more information when all his sources at the sheriff’s department had quit or retired?

An idea wormed its way through his gut.

Who else had sources?

No.

He couldn’t.

He’d feel like a traitor, like he’d be dealing with the enemy. Would Luke go to the Empire for help? No frigging way.

He crossed the floor of his office and spun around, his mind scrambling for other options.