“Chelsea wanted to talk to him about something important. We have no indication of what that was.” Morgan turned to Lance. “What about the data on Chelsea’s computer and smartphone?”

“Nothing unusual,” Lance said. “Mostly she was interested in mom-type topics. Colic, infant development, sibling relationships, etc.”

“Assuming the dead woman isn’t Chelsea, do we still think there’s any chance that Chelsea left on her own?” Sharp asked.

Morgan shook her head. “In my opinion, no.”

Lance thought of the pretty blonde woman. Was Sheriff King right? Was she hiding out somewhere, depressed, suicidal, angry with her husband and determined to teach him a lesson? “My gut agrees with Morgan. Everyone we asked says Chelsea would never leave her kids.”

“The pendant’s broken chain and the hairs ripped out by the root support her being forcibly taken,” Morgan said.

Sharp nodded, his eyes grim. “Then we’re all in agreement on that. Unless Chelsea had some kind of psychotic breakdown, she wouldn’t intentionally abandon her family.”

Lance returned to his list. “I saved the best for last. Harold Burns?”

Sharp crossed his arms across his chest. “Level-three violent sex offenders aren’t magically cured. They’re a public threat as long as they’re loose.”

“Studies are mixed,” Morgan argued. “We can’t assume he’s guilty because he was confrontational.”

Sharp widened his stance. “He didn’t peep in windows. He committed a violent rape. He used a gun. He threatened and choked his victim.”

“I agree. I saw too many repeat offenders of all types to believe any violent criminals should be out on the street. But anyone on the sex offender registry is going to react when an investigator comes calling to talk about a missing woman.”

Lance paced, picturing the way Burns had intimidated Morgan. “Even if Burns is likely guilty of something, we can’t assume Burns is guilty of this crime.”

“How far from Burns’s home address and the auto shop was the body found?” Sharp asked. “I’m going to get a map.”

“I have one right here.” Lance clicked through and pulled up a map of the area. He placed a pin on the location near the state park where the body was found. Then, he marked the other two addresses. “The body was found less than two miles from the auto shop. If you went through the woods behind the salvage yard, eventually you’d end up in the state park.”

Morgan’s phone buzzed. “It’s the sheriff.”

Lance stopped. Had the ME identified the body?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Holding her breath, Morgan pressed the phone to her ear. “Morgan Dane.”

“King here,” the sheriff said in a deep grumble.

“Have you heard from the ME?” Morgan asked.

“No. That’s not what this is about.” The sheriff actually huffed. “I got a call from Harold Burns’s lawyer. You and your investigators will stay away from him. Consider this your official warning.”

“You know he’s a level-three violent offender and the woman’s body was found less than two miles from Burns Auto Shop?” Morgan’s voice was as cold as the icy shiver that slipped through her insides. Burns had gone on the offensive after their visit to the auto shop. She’d expected him to lay low.

“Harassment is illegal, Ms. Dane,” the sheriff said in an irritated, frosty voice. “Stay away from Burns, and stay away from his brother’s auto shop.”

The connection went dead.

Burns had played them.

Shock filled Morgan, then a hefty dose of anger kicked it aside. She lowered the phone. “Did you hear that?”

The grim faces of Lance and Sharp answered her question.

“That son of a—” Lance muttered a curse under his breath.

Morgan got up and paced the narrow space behind her desk. “I knew this was a possibility when we went to the auto shop. I should have done more to prevent it.”

Lance punched his palm. “I can’t believe the sheriff would side with a violent sexual offender.”

“Hold on. I’m sure he isn’t taking Burns’s side. King might not work or play well with others, but he’s a competent cop.” Sharp held up a hand. “I’m hoping he’s investigating Burns and doesn’t want us in his way. If I were him, I might feel the same way.”

“Probably isn’t enough, and the only reason King is onto Burns is because we found him.” Lance scowled.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Sharp said. “We have no idea what the sheriff has been doing.”

“Burns is our top suspect in Chelsea’s disappearance. How do we ignore that?” Morgan swallowed her disappointment in herself. She was accustomed to working with law enforcement and having the support of the police department. She needed to change her way of thinking, but the whole situation was frustrating. “I know the sheriff isn’t obligated to share the details of his investigation with us, but he could at least hint that Burns has actually made his radar in the investigation.”

“Look. King is known for holding his cards closely, even with other branches of law enforcement,” Lance said. “The man doesn’t trust the people who are on his side. I doubt there is any way to make him trust a defense attorney. We are on the opposition in this case.”

But Morgan knew they’d handled Burns the wrong way. “We should have approached Burns differently. We should have put him under surveillance without making contact. We showed our hand. Now we can’t even watch him without risking a harassment charge.”

Sharp got up. “I’m meeting the boys for lunch later. Maybe one of them will have an idea. They’re a cagey bunch, and they gossip like little old ladies. I’ll find out what they know and get them sniffing around.”

The boys were Sharp’s fellow retirees from the local police force who met regularly at the local tavern.

Morgan checked the time. “Oh. Is it eleven o’clock already? I have to pick up Sophie from preschool and Gianna from dialysis. I’m sorry.”

When she’d been a prosecutor, the kids had gone to daycare. John had been deployed more than he’d been home. Morgan had lived like a single parent. But after her husband had died, she’d taken two years off. She’d forgotten how hard it was to juggle work and kids and sanity.

“How long until Gianna gets her license?” Lance asked.

“Her driving test is scheduled for next month, but finding time to let her practice has been tough. Obviously, I’m not going to let her practice when the kids are in the car.” And Gianna would have to gain some driving experience before Morgan would allow her to taxi the girls around.

“I can help,” Lance offered.

Sharp paused on his way out the door. “Me too. And if you need any help with your grandfather, let me know.”

“Thanks. Stella and I are trying to divvy up his doctor appointments.” Morgan gathered her things. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Shrugging into her coat and hoisting her bag over her shoulder, she went out to her minivan and drove to the preschool. She picked up Sophie at eleven thirty, but Gianna wouldn’t be finished with dialysis for another thirty minutes. Seeing no reason to waste a half hour, Morgan drove to the supermarket and parked. Taking Sophie by the hand, she crossed the parking lot and pulled a shopping cart from the lineup. She turned to lift her daughter into the child seat on the front of the cart.