Dex waved. “I handle the cameras myself. They don’t require monitoring. The video feeds automatically upload to the cloud, where they’re digitally stored for thirty days.” He blinked from Lance to Morgan, his brows lifting. “Are you a PI too?”

Morgan smiled. “No. I’m an attorney.”

“Are you a criminal attorney?” he asked in a hopeful voice that suggested he might need one of those.

“I am,” Morgan answered.

“Could I have your card?” Dex’s eyes brightened. “My younger cousin got himself into a jam. He’s a nice kid, but he isn’t the sharpest knife in the block. He needs a good lawyer.”

Morgan dug a card out of her huge bag.

“Maybe you can give him a discount?” Dex asked.

The wind kicked up some dead leaves next to the door. Morgan shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Sure. Have him call me.”

“Where are my manners? It’s cold. Please, come in.” Cheered, Dex backed up and waved them into the house.

Lance and Morgan stepped inside. The door opened into a parquet-floored foyer. With a pronounced limp, Dex led them down a wood paneled hallway into a huge farmhouse kitchen. The slate-colored cabinets and dark hardwood floors showed wear, but the surfaces were spotless. Copper pots hung from a rack over a square island. On its smooth butcher-block countertop, Dex opened a laptop. Flames crackled in a brick fireplace, filling the room with dry heat.

Morgan unbuttoned her coat with a sigh of pleasure. Lance removed his jacket.

Dex cracked open the kitchen window. “Sorry about the smell. I picked up a leg full of shrapnel in Operation Desert Storm. Weed isn’t ideal, but I don’t want to take anything stronger long term. The risk of addiction to opioids is too high. Pot helps me get through the day.”

“My husband was in Iraq,” Morgan said.

“Is he still over there?” Dex asked.

“No.” Her eyes went sad. “He didn’t make it back home.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Dex nodded, his brow dropping with commiseration. “Can I offer you some coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Morgan shook her head.

“Let me get you a copy of that video.” Grimacing, Dex lowered himself onto a stool at the island. He woke the computer and typed on the keyboard. “Do you have a specific timespan?”

Morgan said, “Eight p.m. Friday to eight a.m. Saturday.”

Dex shoved a thumb drive into the USB slot. Two minutes later, he handed it to Morgan, apparently having forgotten that Lance existed.

Whatever worked.

“Thank you very much.” Morgan smiled.

Dex smiled back. He pushed to his feet with a wince, the effort clearly taxing him. “Anytime.”

He escorted them back to the door. “Would you let me know if you determine someone is casing the neighborhood? I can’t afford a break-in.”

“Yes, we will.” Morgan buttoned her coat.

“Thanks for the help.” Lance shook Dex’s hand.

Lance and Morgan stepped outside, and the door closed behind them.

Back in the Jeep, she marked the thumb drive as evidence and noted its origin.

“That was easy.” Lance put the Jeep in gear.

“Yes, though I don’t like lying.”

“But that’s one of the few benefits to not being a cop anymore.” Lance drove away from the house.

“That’s great as long as no one calls you on it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“There he is.” Sharp pointed to his computer screen. On the black-and-white grainy night image, a BMW sedan drove through Kieran Hart’s gates.

Excitement rushed through him. Could they have found a viable suspect? He was afraid that he wanted Haley to be innocent so badly, he’d see signs of guilt in everyone else without the evidence to back up the theory. Thankfully, he had Morgan and Lance to keep him in line.

Standing behind Sharp and looking over his shoulder, Morgan said, “Kieran Hart drives a metallic-gray BMW 750i sedan.”

“The license plate matches,” Sharp verified. “It’s definitely his car.”

“What does the time stamp say?” Morgan asked.

“Four o’clock.” Sharp took a screenshot and noted the time and date in the corner of the video.

He’d spent the entire afternoon reviewing the surveillance footage. He rubbed his aching eyes and followed Morgan back to her office. She went to the whiteboard, picked up the marker, and wrote under Kieran’s photo. Where was Kieran until four a.m. Saturday?

“If we can get him to agree to another interview, we can ask him,” Morgan said. “But this is the type of question that will prompt him to turn us away, phone his personal attorney, and file a harassment claim. The only reason he consented to the first interview is that he thinks he is smarter than everyone else.” Morgan stood back and stared at the board. “I don’t want him to completely shut down on us yet. There might be more information we can get out of him. For now, just add the new information to our files.”

“If we ask him, he’s going to lie, so it’s pointless to tick him off,” Lance agreed.

Morgan got up and set her mug on her coffee machine. “Kieran has no alibi yet. He said he went for a drive. Who else has no alibi?”

Sharp stared at the whiteboard. “Piper was home alone.”

Morgan added a pod to the machine and pressed “Brew.” “Haley had hurt her feelings, Piper was jealous of Noah, and she was anxious when we interviewed her. Do we have any other suspects?”

“Adam?” Sharp suggested. “We know the boy has a temper. He planned that attack on Morgan.”

“Would he kill his own brother?” Morgan asked.

“He might not be stable or rational.” Rubbing his stubbled chin, Sharp studied the board.

“Haley has received more than a dozen additional email threats.” Morgan lifted her cup from the machine and sniffed her coffee as if the aroma alone would perk her up. “Where do we stand on tracing those? The sheriff promised to look into them, but I have more faith in Lance’s mother.”

“Jenny hasn’t had any luck tracing the email threats or identifying the source of that GIF of McFarland punching you.”

“If they can be traced, Jenny will do it.” Morgan rubbed her eyes. “On the bright side, we’ve found no motivation for Haley to kill Noah. She has no history of violence. She even said she liked him. Ordinary, law-abiding people don’t murder people without good reason.”

“I know, but I’m afraid I’m not objective. I want her to be innocent so badly that I’m afraid I’ll see clues where there aren’t any.”

“You don’t have to be objective in this case. The evidence doesn’t add up to the prosecutor’s equation.”

“No, it doesn’t. Unless Haley suffers from a previously undiagnosed mental illness.” Sharp’s phone rang. “It’s Eliza.”

He took the call.

“We have an incident going on here.” Eliza sounded worried. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“What happened?” Sharp asked.

“One of the protesters climbed the gate. So far, he’s just shouting nasty things from the front lawn, but I’ve called the sheriff’s department. They’re sending a deputy.”

“What are the rest of the protesters doing?”

“Milling around behind the gate,” Eliza said. “They don’t seem to have a plan.”

“I’m on my way.” Sharp went into his office. “Do you want to stay on the phone?”

“No. I’m sure everything will be all right.” But her voice wavered. “The security guard is here.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Call me back if anything changes.” Sharp ended the call and relayed the incident to Morgan and Lance. Then he went to the safe in his office and took out his sidearm.

“We’re going with you,” Lance said.

“Thanks.” Sharp grabbed his jacket. “Though the deputy should get there first.”

And hopefully remove the protesters before the situation escalated.