“Even if you prove it’s meaningless, the jury will have heard, and the damage will be done.” Lance rubbed the bruised back of his neck. Three ibuprofen tablets had done nothing to alleviate the pain.

“What about Tina?” Morgan tapped the marker on the board under Tina’s name. “Is Tina still on our list of suspects?”

“She’s your client,” Sharp snorted.

Morgan shrugged. “I promised to represent her to the best of my ability. That doesn’t mean I trust her. Despite her excuses, she has to know that the information she withheld about her father could play into Paul’s murder and Evan’s disappearance. Yet she did not tell us until she was backed into a corner. I’m not as concerned about the friction between Paul and Evan. I can’t see Evan as the killer. What would he have to gain by killing Paul? By all accounts, Paul was kind to him.”

Lance scanned the names. Someone was guilty. Someone had killed Paul. “Tina was at work, in full view of a dozen people and security cameras. She couldn’t come up with a better alibi if she tried.”

Sharp rubbed his chin. “But she could have blackmailed or paid someone else to kill him.”

“But what was her motive?” Morgan gestured toward the board with her coffee. “And why would she then come to us for help?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like that she did not tell us about her father either,” Sharp said. “That was a big-ass secret she was keeping.”

“If Tina was behind Paul’s murder, then where is Evan?” Morgan asked.

“Maybe Tina’s plan didn’t work out the way she wanted,” Sharp argued.

Morgan shook her head. “But then wouldn’t she suspect who had taken her son? That scenario doesn’t work for me. Her father seems like a more likely suspect.”

“I agree.” Lance chugged more coffee, then swigged his shake, the combination waking his brain cells. “Her testimony put him in prison for twenty-five years. I’m sure that pissed him off. Joe Martin had a history of taking revenge. Killing Paul and destroying Tina’s newfound happiness would be the perfect retaliation.”

“He could have taken Evan too,” Morgan agreed. “As additional payback or to convince her to come to him. Maybe he wants her to watch him kill Evan.”

They were all quiet for a few seconds. Lance didn’t like that scenario one bit, but it was all too plausible given Tina’s story. “Can we verify any of the details Tina gave us on her background and her father?”

“Revenge is a great motive, but it wouldn’t be very satisfying unless she knew it had been Joe who had done the deed,” Sharp pointed out.

The printer on Morgan’s credenza whirred and spit out a picture. Lance retrieved it.

“Your mother emailed this to me this morning,” Sharp said. “That is Joe Martin when he went to prison twenty-five years ago. She is still looking for a current picture.”

Lance positioned the photo on the board and labeled it.

Sharp said, “I have another lead on some info regarding Joe Martin and his gang. I’ll follow up on that today.”

“What lead?” Lance asked.

Sharp stared into his drink. “Twenty-five years ago, Olivia Cruz did an in-depth piece on gang violence in Newark, New Jersey. She covered Joe’s trial and interviewed gang members.”

“Olivia Cruz?” Lance grinned. “The same reporter who helped us out on our last big case?”

“Yes,” Sharp said in an irritated tone.

“The same woman you owe a favor to?” Morgan asked, her mouth twitching with a small smile.

“Yes.” Sharp jabbed a finger in the direction of the board. “Can we get back to the case?”

Sharp could deny it all he wanted, but he had a thing for Olivia Cruz. Considering that Sharp thought all reporters were the direct descendants of Satan, the attraction he was trying to fight was hilarious. If Lance weren’t so worried about Evan, he would enjoy the hell out of Sharp’s discomfort.

“Sure,” Lance chuckled. “Evan’s father, Kirk Meade, is next on my list. What do we know about him?”

“He has a supposed alibi at the group home, where he checked in for the night at seven thirty,” Morgan said. “But when I asked the sheriff if anyone saw him after that time, he didn’t answer.”

“That’s probably a no,” Sharp said. “But we should talk to the supervisor and other residents of the group home.”

“Morgan and I can do that this morning,” Lance volunteered. “By all accounts, Kirk is a manipulative, lazy scumbag. Tina was his meal ticket. He was causing trouble for Tina and Paul, dragging Tina to court for visitation rights, charges of violating the court order, and parental alienation. All bullshit charges designed to make Tina’s life difficult.”

“Revenge for divorcing him,” Morgan added. “How far would Kirk go to get even with Tina?”

“He blamed Paul because she wouldn’t take him back,” Lance said. “We need to talk to Kirk.”

“Do we want to talk to Jake again?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t see why. Lance already searched the farm.” Sharp tapped his fingers together. “Evan wasn’t there. When you questioned him, did it seem like he was lying?”

Morgan shook her head. “I didn’t pick up on any lies.”

“Me neither.” Lance switched back to coffee. “But I’ll bet the person who attacked me was looking for Evan there too.”

“Do we have any other leads?” Sharp asked.

“Rylee Nelson, Evan’s secret girlfriend.” Morgan wrote her name on the board. “She was super defensive about her brother. Something is up there.”

“My mother will research the family, but maybe we should drive by her house,” Lance suggested. “Evan didn’t want his family to know he was dating Rylee. Maybe the reason lies with her family, not his.”

“Where shall we start?” Morgan scanned the board. “Are we agreed that our most likely suspects are Brian, Kirk, and Joe Martin?”

“Yes,” Sharp said. “Let’s focus on those three for now.”

“Let’s start with Kirk, then move on to Rylee.” Lance picked up his empty cups. He’d finished the shake and the coffee and was feeling almost human. “Do we visit Kirk at the group home or furniture warehouse?”

“Group home first.” Morgan turned away from the board. “Kirk is a parolee. His employer will be keeping a close eye on him. We shouldn’t jeopardize his job. He can claim harassment. Besides, we want to talk to the group home supervisor anyway.”

Lance glanced back at the board. They’d gathered information and generated leads, but their case still felt scattered. The lines of investigation bloomed across the white space like a spiderweb when what Lance wanted was a neat grid.

He tossed his cardboard coffee cup in the wastebasket. “Let’s go poke some holes in Kirk’s alibi.”

Chapter Twenty

Standing on the doorstep of the group home, Morgan buttoned her blazer and pressed the doorbell. The door lock was an electronic card key entry system, with a slot to swipe a card and a keypad to enter a code.

She stepped back and scanned the street. A Hand Up Transitional Residence for Men occupied a huge brick-fronted Tudor-style house. The neighborhood was zoned for mixed use, with several of the large houses on the main street having been converted to professional offices. The group home sat between an accounting firm and a similar house that had been divided into apartments.

Next to her, Lance tapped an impatient boot on the cement. But they didn’t have to wait long. A tall, thin man opened the door. Behind him, a chime echoed in the house.

“I’m Morgan Dane, and this is my associate Lance Kruger. We’d like to speak with the supervisor, Mr. Dougherty.” Morgan offered him a business card. She had called ahead, so Dougherty should have been expecting them.

“I’m Stan Dougherty. Please come in.” Mr. Dougherty moved back to allow them inside. “Welcome to A Hand Up.”

“Thank you for seeing us.” Morgan stepped into the foyer, well aware that Dougherty had no obligation to cooperate. Lance crossed the threshold to stand next to her.

“We’re always happy to explain what we do.” Dougherty closed the door. “We’re very proud of our work in the community.”

“How many men live in the house?” Morgan glanced around. On one side of the entry, a staircase led upstairs. On the left was a living room with couches, chairs, and a TV.

“We are at full capacity with twelve men in residence.” Mr. Dougherty walked down a narrow hall. “I’m happy to say all but one of them are at work right now. And the one who is here is sleeping because he works the night shift. Employment is a requirement of residency.”

Morgan followed him.

Lance brought up the rear. “What happens if a resident gets fired?”

“We provide mandatory counseling and job search assistance.” Mr. Dougherty gestured to a small room tucked under the stairwell. “You would be surprised how many large corporations are willing to give convicted felons a second chance.”

Morgan entered first. The office was tiny. There was barely enough room for two narrow wooden chairs in front of a small desk. She sat on the hard seat and set her tote at her feet.

“Excuse the small office. We’ve tried to utilize most of the space for living arrangements. Though the men are housed dormitory-style upstairs, we want the house to feel more like a home than an institution. We don’t use the term halfway house anymore, but that’s truly what we want to accomplish here, providing a halfway point between prison and normal life. Simply turning parolees out on the street with no support or transition doesn’t serve them well.” Mr. Dougherty sidled between the desk and the wall to take his seat. “We provide the closest thing to a real home as possible, but with some rules to ensure they don’t fall right back into their old ways. They need to develop healthy work and life habits.”