Sharp stood in front of the whiteboard. “Do we have an update on Nick’s condition?”

“Yes,” Morgan said. “Bud called while I was in the car. The doctors are very pleased with his improvement. He’s been upgraded from critical to stable and should be moved out of intensive care this morning.”

Lance exhaled. “That’s great.”

“I’m waiting to hear from the sheriff. I want to know who stabbed Nick and why,” Morgan said. “The inmate who attacked him took a huge risk. He needed a reason to attack Nick. It could have been simple jail violence, but there’s a greater chance that it wasn’t.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not that hard to arrange a hit on the inside, but why?”

“Maybe the real killer assumed if Nick died, we wouldn’t have a client, and we’d stop investigating.” Morgan walked the length of the room and back. “Which means we’ve made someone uncomfortable. We’re on the right track.”

Lance pointed to photos of Robby Barone and his father. “I talked to my mom. She’s found nothing on the Barones. They seem to have disappeared into thin air. She has found several small corporations linked to other suspected members. She’s digging through layers of shell companies to see if they own real estate.”

Sharp said, “I called a couple of my pals. There’s been no sign of Dean Voss. The local, county, and state cops are all looking for him. They do know that Voss was in special forces. He’s not going to be easy to find.”

“They’re looking for Rambo.” Lance sighed.

“Exactly,” Sharp agreed.

Morgan said, “We’re going to try to talk to Mrs. Voss today in hopes that she has some idea where her husband is hiding.”

“Good luck with that.” Sharp rubbed a hand over his head. “She’s cooperating with the police. They’re watching her. They think Voss might try and contact her.”

Damn.

Morgan stared at the board. “Who’s left on our suspect list?”

“Jacob Emerson,” Lance said. “Could that have been him following you this morning?”

Morgan took the image captured on the surveillance video and fastened it to the board with a magnet. “This could be either Dean Voss or Jacob Emerson. They’re about the same size and build.”

Lance shook his head. “For argument’s sake, let’s assume the same man stalked Morgan this morning and arranged the attack on Nick. If that’s true, then I can’t see Jacob Emerson having the contacts to orchestrate a jail hit.”

“Could his father have arranged that? What kind of law does Mr. Emerson practice?” Sharp asked.

Morgan opened her file and flipped to Mr. Emerson’s pages. “He specializes in medical malpractice, but he’s also defended some DUIs, which means he’s spent time in the courtroom and jail.”

Morgan’s phone vibrated. “This is the sheriff.”

She answered the call. “Morgan Dane.”

“Ms. Dane,” the sheriff said. “What can I do for you?”

“Thank you for returning my call. Who stabbed my client, sheriff?”

The sheriff began, “The man’s name is Zachary Menendez. He’s awaiting trial on three counts of first-degree murder.”

“Do you have any idea why he did it?”

“So far, Mr. Menendez has exercised his right to remain silent.” The sheriff’s voice reflected his contempt. “But I know the charges already filed against him are pretty tight. He’s expected to go to jail for the next hundred years. He’s a very violent man. I’m not sure he needs a reason to hurt people.”

Morgan didn’t believe that for a second. Menendez could have stabbed anyone in that pod. Why did he choose Nick? “What else do you know about him?”

“He has mental health issues,” the sheriff said. “He’s a heroin addict, and he’s been homeless since he was discharged from the military five years ago.”

“Do you have any of his military records?” she asked. Could he know Dean Voss?

“No. He was in some kind of special forces. The military isn’t fond of sharing that sort of information,” the sheriff replied. “You don’t need to worry about your client when he returns to jail. We’ve transferred Menendez to isolation. He’ll be charged with attempted murder, on top of the other charges he was already facing.”

“Thank you for the information.” Morgan didn’t discuss any possible lawsuit on Nick’s behalf. She was determined that Nick would never return to jail. “I’d like to see the surveillance footage of the incident.”

“Of course.” But the sheriff didn’t apologize for the stabbing. The man was smart enough to know that an apology could be interpreted as an admission of fault and that Morgan would likely file a civil suit on Nick’s behalf.

“Thank you,” Morgan offered.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need any more information.” The sheriff ended the call.

Morgan summarized the call for Sharp and Lance. “The man who stabbed Nick was in special forces. How do we find out if he served with Dean Voss?”

“We need to talk to Voss’s wife,” Lance said. “She might either know Menendez or someone else who served with her husband.”

“Good luck.” Sharp turned back to the board. “I have a meeting scheduled this morning with Jamie Lewis’s parents. Then I’m going to see what else I can learn about Menendez.”

“Any luck finding Jamie?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Sharp said. “The last time anyone saw her was the night Tessa disappeared.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Morgan stood, slinging the strap of her tote over her shoulder. “I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

Morgan and Lance went out to the Jeep. They drove the first few blocks in silence.

She stared out the passenger window as they drove through Scarlet Falls. Close to the town center, homes were large and well-kept, with wide porches, trimmed shrubs, and neat patches of green grass. But who knew what was happening behind those freshly painted closed doors? She lowered her window a few inches. The crisp morning air smelled of dead leaves and wood smoke. The tension between her and Lance crackled like a bonfire. Had she damaged their relationship?

She glanced sideways at him. “I hope I didn’t ruin our friendship.”

“You didn’t.” But his body language contradicted his words. The muscles of his jaw clenched, and his fingers tightened on the wheel for just a second. If she hadn’t been watching for it, she wouldn’t have noticed.

She turned away to stare out the windshield, exhaustion sliding over, weighting her limbs like a thick comforter. She shook it off. Repairing their relationship would have to wait. Nick’s case needed all her energy.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mrs. Voss lived in a development of small homes on postage-stamp lots. Upkeep was a mixed bag. Some lawns were mowed and raked, others overgrown. Lance parked at the curb of a small bungalow. No peeling paint or dangling shutters, but the grass needed mowing. He surveyed the surrounding houses but saw no sign of Dean Voss.

Across the street, a police car sat at the curb. Lance recognized the young cop in the driver’s seat. Really? Horner had put the rookie on duty to watch for an ex-special forces soldier?