Chapter Fifty-One
Late the next morning, Morgan sat in Lance’s kitchen and drained her second cup of coffee. Lance was still asleep. He’d refused to stay at the hospital the night before. They’d returned to his house in the gray hours just before dawn, crawled into his bed, and slept like corpses.
The doorbell rang. Not wanting the noise to wake Lance, she hurried to the door and opened it. Mac and Stella stood on the front step, with all three of Morgan’s girls in tow.
“Where’s Wance?” Sophie tried to zoom past Morgan’s legs.
Morgan made a grab for her daughter. “He’s sleeping.”
Sophie folded her arms and sulked. “I want to see him.”
“I know,” Morgan said. “I’ll go in and see if he’s awake yet. Sharp is in the kitchen.”
“We’ll take the kids into the kitchen.” Stella held up a box of donuts. “Who wants a donut?”
“Save me one,” Morgan said over her shoulder.
“Do you really deserve a donut?” Stella asked. “If it were Christmas, I’d fill your stocking with coal for the stunt you pulled last night.”
Morgan and Lance had given their statements at the hospital the previous night.
“I apologized twenty times already.” Guilt poked Morgan. “I should have answered your call. I should have told you where we were going. I’m sorry.”
Stella humphed. “Maybe one donut.” She shook a finger at Morgan. “But you have to drink one of Sharp’s nasty concoctions.”
“I promise.” Morgan held up three fingers like a Girl Scout.
Shaking her head, Stella retreated down the hall. Her sister loved her. No matter what.
Morgan opened Lance’s bedroom door.
“You don’t have to be quiet,” he said. “I’m awake.”
His eyes were open. Shirtless, he pushed the sheet down to his waist. Purple bruises mottled his ribcage. A small bandage on his side and another on his eyebrow covered the shallow knife wounds he’d sustained in his fight with Sheriff King. Just looking at him bare-chested made Morgan shiver. She’d layered her silk long underwear under a wool sweater. After their night in the woods, she might never be warm enough again.
Morgan eased onto the side of the bed, taking care not to jostle him. “The kids are here. They were worried about you, so Stella and Mac brought them to visit. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s OK.” Lance took her hand and traced the small bandage on her palm. “I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “You have three fractured ribs and twenty stitches in your leg. You should have stayed in the hospital last night.”
“Observation is hospital code for waking you up every thirty minutes. I needed actual sleep, and it could have been worse.” He touched a tender spot on her temple, where the butt end of King’s rifle had left a bruise.
“Unfortunately, I can’t argue with that.”
They’d been very, very lucky.
Lance put his palms on the bed and pushed his body toward the headboard. His face went tight with pain.
“You need a pill.” Morgan reached for a pillow and tucked it behind him. When he made a face, she said, “Remember what the doctor said. If you don’t take the medication, you won’t breathe deeply enough, and you’ll be at risk for pneumonia.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He eased onto the pillow, relaxing again once he was still.
Morgan’s own bruises were numerous, but just being alive and with Lance was enough to ease her stiffness. Every time she thought about what could have happened, her throat clogged and her heart clenched.
She opened the prescription bottle and put two tablets in his hand, then handed him a glass of water on the nightstand. Morgan moved the medication to the top of his medicine cabinet, out of the reach of her kids. She moved the sheet and blanket aside to check the bandage on his calf. He wore just his boxers. More bruises had darkened on his body overnight. Angry, dark patches covered his torso and limbs like a purple camouflage print. The sheer number and expanse of them spoke volumes of how hard he’d fought to save them.
The bedroom door opened, and Sharp swept in, carrying a green shake. “How are you?”
“How about a little privacy, Sharp?” Lance pulled the sheet over his legs and tugged it to his waist.
Sharp rolled his eyes, walked to the bedside, and set the shake on the nightstand. “You need nutrients.”
“I just woke up,” Lance grumbled.
“I made breakfast for you too.” Sharp speared Morgan with a direct gaze. “Don’t you dare dig in to those donuts I saw in the kitchen. You’re not in as serious condition as Lance, but your body has some repairs to make too.”
She sighed. She’d really been looking forward to one of those donuts and a vat of coffee.
“How’s your arm?” she asked Sharp.
“Starting to heal, thank you.” He handed Lance the shake with a short speech about vitamins, amino acids, protein, and anti-inflammatory compounds.
“I believe you. I’m drinking.” Lance accepted the shake and took a long swallow. “What happened to your hand?”
Sharp poked at a bandage on his finger. “I went to pick up that little dog at the vet this morning. She bit me. The vet said it seems the dog hates men.”
“Oh, no,” Morgan said. “I’ll bet Warren Fox had something to do with that.”
“Speaking of Warren,” Sharp said, “he’s fine. He was passed out drunk when you knocked on his door. He’d run his vehicle into a ditch a half mile from his house and stumbled home.”
“At least he isn’t dead,” Morgan said. “What are we going to do with the dog? I can’t have a dog that bites. I have three kids.” But she’d never take the dog to the shelter.
“No worries. I already found her a home. I took her to Natalie Leed’s house. When I told Natalie the dog was homeless and hated men, she said that was perfect. So did she, at the moment. It was love at first sight.” Sharp grinned. “Oh, and guess what Stan Adam’s has been hiding? A gambling problem.”
“How do you know?” Lance raised the glass.
“He was arrested this morning,” Sharp said. “That problem at his firm wasn’t a request from a client. It was missing money. Stan has been borrowing from the firm to pay his debts. Apparently, his partner has had him under investigation for a while.”
“I wonder how long that’s been going on, or whether it has anything to do with Stan’s refusal to say where he really was the night my dad went missing.” Lance drank.
Sharp shrugged. “I doubt he’ll say now that he’s lawyered up.”
Watching Sharp fuss over Lance, Morgan turned toward the door. “I’ll get you an ice pack.”
Sophie bolted past. Morgan tried to grab her, but the child was wiry and quick. She launched herself onto the bed. She made no attempt to touch him, but the mattress rocked. Lance’s face turned pale.
Morgan hurried back to the bed, reaching for Sophie, but Lance shook his head. “I’ve got her.”
He set the shake down and put both hands around Sophie’s waist to stop her movements.
Sophie’s eyes widened as she stared at his bruised chest.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said.
“It wooks wike it hurts.” She leaned forward and kissed the darkest, largest bruise across his ribs.
His face went whiter, and his eyes looked like they were going to roll back in his head as her lips touched the skin over his fractured bones. Sophie leaned back and folded her legs under her body with a little bounce.
“Oh, honey.” Morgan winced. “Lance needs to rest. Don’t—”
Lance held up a hand. Despite the paleness of his face, his eyes were misty. “She’s fine. I need to get up anyway.”
“But you don’t need to be catapulted to your feet,” Morgan said. “Sophie, did you get a donut?”
The little girl turned and frowned at Morgan. “I want to stay wif Wance.”
“How about I come into the kitchen?” Lance suggested.
Sophie eyed his injuries with a dubious expression, as if she didn’t believe he could or should be getting up, but she agreed. “OK.”
Sharp lifted her off the bed, clearly trying to stave off another trampoline session. He set her on the floor, and she darted out of the room.
“I’ll go make some vegetable omelets,” Sharp said. “When you’re up to it, Stella has business to discuss with you both.”
Sharp had phoned to tell them about King’s suicide while they were in the ER. Morgan had not been surprised. The only rules King had followed were his own.
When they’d been discharged from the hospital, Morgan had stayed with Lance to keep an eye on him. He’d insisted he was all right, but she hadn’t wanted him to be alone. They’d fallen asleep as soon as they’d gotten back to his house. Morgan had kept one hand on his body all night long, as if she needed to be continuously reassured that he was safe and whole.
“Did the state police find anything at King’s cabin?” By anything, Lance clearly meant remains.
Sharp said, “The forensics team was still searching the cabin. In light of Vic’s body still being missing, I suggested they bring in a cadaver dog. I’ll bet your dad isn’t far from the lake.”
But they still didn’t know why Vic had died. Would they ever? After all they’d been through, Lance and his mother deserved closure.
“I want to go out there,” Lance said, obviously feeling the same way. “And I need to visit my mother.”
They’d checked on her after he’d been discharged. She’d still been holding her own.
“See how you feel standing up first, all right?” Sharp followed Sophie out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
“I’ll get you some clothes.” Morgan opened his dresser drawer and took out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. She brought them to the bed. Lance was sitting up with his legs over the side. She knelt in front of him, sparing him the agony of bending in half to get his pants on.
“I can dress myself,” Lance protested.
“I’m sorry about Sophie. I hope she didn’t hurt you.”
Lance swallowed. “She didn’t.”
“Liar,” Morgan said.
“Don’t make me laugh.” He laughed, then put a hand over his ribs. “I’m flattered. In the beginning I didn’t think I’d be able to win her over.”
Morgan pictured Sophie bouncing on the mattress. “Be careful what you wish for.”