Who else had Joe killed around the time of his trial? The detectives who had stolen his money? Had they been working with Joe and double-crossed him?

“But you didn’t find Tina,” Olivia said.

“No.” Joe’s voice filled with reluctant respect. “I made a mistake. I didn’t pay enough attention to her. She was only a girl. She barely spoke and spent most of her time cowering in the corners. But I should have expected her to be smart. She is my daughter.”

“But when you finally learned where she was . . . ,” Sharp prompted.

“I decided to leave her alone.” He frowned as if he didn’t truly understand why. “I grew very sick with diabetes. Such a disease is not easily managed in prison. Much damage was done.” He pointed to his foot. “I lost some toes. My sight is fading. My life will not be a long one.” He pried the knife loose and touched the point.

Complete and total bullshit.

Sharp couldn’t believe the man who had given his daughter to his lieutenants to use for sex had suddenly turned into a doting parent. Joe thought of only Joe. Sharp’s face must have shown his disbelief.

“Do not think I let her go because I forgave her. I have not. But she is cunning like me. I respect that.” Joe’s head inclined slightly. “Also, she has a son. I have only one other living relative.” He gestured to Aaron, still leaning on the wall, still staring at Sharp as if he’d like nothing more than to peel the skin from his face.

Sharp’s belly cramped. He liked his skin on his face.

“So far, Aaron has no sons.” Joe cast an accusatory glance at Aaron. “Evan is the reason she still lives. He carries my blood. He can ensure that our bloodline survives.”

“Evan is missing.” Sharp watched him carefully for a reaction.

There wasn’t one. Joe let the knife dangle from between two fingertips. Joe didn’t care about Evan. Joe cared about Joe’s legacy, his DNA.

“I know,” Joe said. “But he carries my blood. He is a smart boy. He will not be found until he wants to be found. Why do you think he runs?”

Sharp added, “The police consider him a suspect in his stepfather’s murder.”

Joe dropped the knife. It pierced the table and stood upright. “Did the stepfather need killing?”

“I don’t think so,” Sharp answered. “But the police think Evan is the murderer. They might just shoot the boy.”

“If he gets caught that easily, then he doesn’t carry enough of my genes,” Joe said, his voice emotionless. “Is he guilty?”

“No,” Sharp said.

Joe seemed almost disappointed. “I have not seen his mother since her husband was killed. I assume the police are hiding her.”

Sharp didn’t respond.

Something glimmered in Joe’s eyes. There was something he wasn’t saying. Sharp couldn’t shake the feeling that Joe wasn’t ignoring Evan’s plight. But it was very hard to read the face of a sociopath.

And that’s exactly what Joe was. He had no conscience. No empathy.

Pushing on the cane, Joe stood. He pulled the knife out of the table, and it disappeared under his sport coat. “And now I must go. I have business to attend to.” He glanced from Olivia to Sharp. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to leave the same way you came.”

Sharp and Olivia stood as he shuffled past. He opened the door and left the room.

Olivia shrugged. She and Sharp stood and walked to the door.

Aaron stopped them with a hand on Sharp’s chest. “Wait.”

Aaron barely blinked as they waited. Finally, he received a message on his phone and stood aside. Olivia exited the room first, but Sharp stayed close. Aaron herded them across the concrete floor.

Nerves formed a cold ball in Sharp’s gut. The threat felt huge and looming as they walked toward the sedan. The four extra men and the second car—and presumably Joe—were all gone. Only Aaron and his two thugs remained in the warehouse.

Sharp breathed. This would all be over soon. They’d climb into the car, put on the hoods, and be delivered to Olivia’s Prius.

Keep your cool.

With the additional men missing, the warehouse felt too silent. The only sound was the click of Olivia’s heels on the floor. They approached the car.

Aaron gestured to the car. Sharp turned to open the rear door. Something smacked him in the head. A hood slammed down on his face, and his hands were bound with plastic ties.

Over the ringing in his ears, he heard a feminine gasp.

Olivia.

He heard the sound of a trunk opening and barely had time to think, Shit, before a solid kick to his back sent him sprawling forward. His thighs hit the lip of the trunk. He put his bound hands in front of him to catch himself. But someone shoved him inside, scooped up his legs, and tossed them in. Sharp’s face burned as it slid on the carpet.

A soft weight landed on top of him.

“See that no one finds their bodies,” Aaron said, just before the trunk slammed closed.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lance’s arm fell asleep, but he didn’t move it. Sophie’s long eyelashes fluttered as she woke. She lifted her head and pushed off Lance’s chest. Her color had improved, her face had plumped up, and her eyes were no longer sunken. Her pajamas and his T-shirt were soaked with her fever-breaking sweat.

“Can I have a Popsicle?” she asked.

Lance kissed her temple. “You sure can.”

Morgan called a nurse into the room.

“Well, don’t you look better.” The nurse ran the thermometer over Sophie’s forehead and smiled. “Ninety-nine point six. Excellent. How does your tummy feel?”

“OK.” Sophie picked up Lance’s phone. “Can I play that game again?”

“Sure.” Lance thought this would be a good time for her to ask for her own phone or a car. At that moment, he would have given her anything she wanted.

He woke his phone and handed it to her. She played the game and ate her grape Popsicle.

By lunchtime, Sophie was sitting up and chatting as if she’d never been ill. Morgan looked as if she were barely keeping her eyes open, and Lance felt like he’d been run over by a preschooler-size bus.

When Sophie had successfully kept down Popsicles and crackers, the doctor decided she was well enough to go home. By the time the discharge paperwork was processed and they had driven back to the house, it was late afternoon. Gianna and Grandpa greeted Sophie with relieved hugs. Under Grandpa’s watchful eye, Morgan, Lance, and Sophie sprawled on the couch in front of cartoons. As if the dogs knew she was sick, they couldn’t get close enough to the little girl. They curled up on the sofa next to her. Snoozer kept one paw on her at all times.

Lance had no memory of falling asleep, but he jolted awake at the jab of something sharp into his sternum. He opened his eyes. The something sharp was Sophie’s kneecap.

She sat on his stomach. “I’m hungwy. Can I have waffles?”

“I can make that happen.” Lance rubbed his eyes.

“Shh.” The little girl put her finger over her lips. “Mommy is sweeping.”

Lance lowered his voice. “Then let’s not wake her.”

Morgan’s grandfather had also dozed off and was snoring in his recliner.

Lance touched Sophie’s forehead, but her face felt cool. He held out both hands to carry her into the dining room, but she skipped away from him, seemingly fully recovered from her hospital experience. Lance felt like he was scarred for life. He followed Sophie and the smell of food to the dining room. Gianna stood at the sideboard, stirring something in a slow cooker.

“Someone wants waffles,” Lance said.

“I’ll get them.” Gianna smiled. “I made soup.”

“Thank you.” Lance rolled a kink out of his shoulder.

“Mia and Ava are home from school. They’re playing in their room.”

But they must have heard Lance’s voice. The two little girls raced into the dining room and hugged him. Morgan appeared, looking rumpled, beautiful, and better for the nap. Grandpa wandered in, and they settled down for dinner. Afterward, Sophie followed her sisters into their room to play.

Lance showered. Morgan joined him in the bedroom as he dressed in ancient cargo pants and a T-shirt.

“I feel almost human again,” she said as she tossed her clothes into the hamper.

“How is Sophie’s fever?” Lance asked.

“I gave her some Tylenol, but she seems perfectly fine.”

“I can’t believe the way she bounced back.”

“Kids.” Morgan stepped into the shower.

Lance scooped his clothes from the bathroom floor. His phone fell out of his pocket. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. Sharp had texted, and the sheriff had called. Lance hadn’t checked his phone for hours. He didn’t even know what time it was.

Six p.m.? He glanced out the window. Thick clouds blotted out the sky. A storm was coming, and darkness would fall early.

He hadn’t thought about Evan or the case or the sheriff since the night before. Worry for Sophie had totally consumed him. It struck him like a rock to the head. The nurse had been right. He was going to be a dad to Morgan’s girls. Stepdad might be the technical term, but in Lance’s heart, the DNA didn’t matter. Love was stronger than blood. Look how close he was to Sharp. Lance’s terror for Sophie had been bone deep. He would have traded places with her in an instant if it had been possible.

Morgan stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She coiled her hair into a messy knot on top of her head.

“The sheriff called.” Lance checked the time of the incoming call. “Three hours ago.” While he’d been sleeping.

“Do you know what he wanted?” Morgan dressed in faded jeans and a T-shirt.

“No. I haven’t called him back yet.” Lance glanced at the closed door. “I feel like I neglected Evan’s case, but I couldn’t have chosen differently.”

He was shocked at how quickly he’d put everything else aside. As worried as he was about Evan, the case had never entered his mind while Sophie had been ill.