“Sharp is tracking down Noah’s ex-girlfriend Callie Fisher today.” Lance opened his phone and typed a text to Sharp. “He’s going to see her this morning. Maybe she can tell us more about his family. I’ll send him a message to ask about the relationship between the brothers.”

“Have we discounted Piper as a suspect?”

“We shouldn’t write her off just yet, but she’s moved down my list. Her motivation doesn’t seem as strong.”

“Unless there’s something we haven’t learned about her yet. Kieran’s motivation for killing Noah is clear. He was jealous.”

“What about Justin and his arrest for date rape?” Lance started the engine.

“I think we’d better talk to him today too.”

“Maybe we should ask Isaac or Chase about it first. If Justin killed Noah, then Isaac and Chase are covering for him by providing him with an alibi. We could explain how that makes them accessories.”

“We will make no appointments this time. I want to question them individually, and I don’t want them to be prepared to see us.”

“Right.” Lance leaned across the console and planted a kiss on Morgan’s mouth.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but what was that for?” She smiled.

“For understanding my mother and trying to minimize her fears.” Lance settled back into his seat.

“I know it didn’t work, and I feel bad that McFarland’s attack will affect her too.”

“Some things are beyond our control.”

“I know, but I love your mom. She’s part of the family.” Morgan fastened her seat belt.

Family.

The more time Lance spent with Morgan and her family, the less he wanted to live alone. Before their relationship, he thought he was content enough. But now he knew what he’d been missing. He wanted to help her get the kids ready for school every morning. He wanted to go to sleep with her every night and wake up with her by his side.

He wanted to be a part of her life rather than an accessory to it.

He was ready to make their relationship a formal commitment. Despite the events of the day, warmth filled him. Six months ago, the mere thought of becoming a stepfather to three little girls would have sent him into a panic attack. But now the idea filled him with happiness and memories of Christmas morning. Morgan’s kids racing into the family room at dark o’clock. Their high-pitched squeals of joy as they ripped through wrapping paper, the excitement of the day alone making them—and Lance—happy. Lance and Morgan sitting on the floor with the children, drinking coffee, very much feeling like a couple.

That’s what he wanted every day.

But what did Morgan want? Was she content living in Scarlet Falls and working as a defense attorney, or did she miss being a prosecutor more than she would admit?

“I can’t help but feel awful for Noah Carter’s family.” Morgan rested her head against the window.

“I appreciate that you can see both sides of the case, but there’s no point torturing yourself.” Lance started the engine. “There isn’t anything you can do to help that family.”

“No. Defending Haley is our job.” Morgan looked over at him, her eyes bleak. “Who do you want to talk to first?”

“Let’s try Isaac and Chase.” Lance turned onto the highway and pressed the accelerator, not feeling half of the confidence he’d tried to project. They had theories and possibilities to investigate but nothing concrete. Juries loved fingerprints and DNA and everything else they’d seen on CSI. The prosecutor had a mountain of physical evidence that pointed directly at Haley as the killer.

Chapter Thirty-Two

At eleven o’clock Friday morning, Sharp handed Noah Carter’s ex-girlfriend a business card through the open door of her apartment. “I’m investigating Noah Carter’s death. I was hoping you would answer a few questions about him.”

Callie Fisher lived in the residential district of downtown Scarlet Falls. The huge colonial had been converted into apartments.

“I can try,” the young brunette said. Instead of inviting Sharp into her apartment, she stepped out onto the long porch and pulled her door closed behind her.

Sharp approved of her lack of trust. Smart girl.

On the long front porch, four white wicker chairs faced the street. Callie walked to one and sat down. Sharp followed her, angling his chair so he could see her face.

She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard he’d been killed.”

Sharp commiserated with a nod. “How long did you date him?”

“Not long, less than two months.” She stared at the street, her focus inward.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“I ran into him in the grocery store a few weeks ago.” She plucked at a hole in the knee of her jeans. When she looked up, her expression was wry. “This is a small town. You can’t avoid seeing an old boyfriend.”

“No. I imagine you can’t. Were there hard feelings between you and Noah?”

“Aren’t there always?” Her lips flattened, as she carefully considered her answer. “If the relationship had been perfect, we’d still be dating.”

“Good point.” Sharp nodded. “Did you break up with Noah, or did he break up with you?”

Her jaw tightened. “I broke up with him.”

Sharp heard nothing but honesty and sincerity in her voice. He waited to see if she offered a reason, but she didn’t seem anxious to share. Her reluctance piqued his interest.

“Why did you break up with him?” he prompted.

She swallowed, her gaze returning to the street as a minivan cruised by. “Look. I don’t really want to say bad things about him. He’s dead. His parents are suffering enough. They don’t need to read about their son’s faults in the newspaper.”

“I’m not a reporter,” Sharp said.

Callie turned critical eyes on him. “Who are you working for?”

Sharp had hoped to keep his association with the defense to himself for now. Presumption of innocence was a legal term. Most of the time, the public assumed the defendant was guilty, and Callie seemed more loyal to Noah’s parents than to his memory.

But asked directly, he couldn’t lie. They might need her to testify.

“The attorney hired to defend Haley Powell,” Sharp said.

Callie didn’t look surprised. But then, Sharp had already established that she was intelligent.

“Noah had his good points,” she began. “He was cute in a geeky way. Sometimes he was disarmingly adorable.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, as if she were remembering something specific.

Sharp waited. He could sense a big, fat but was coming.

“But every time we’d hang out, I’d wake up with the worst hangover. I was no angel in college. I had my share of evenings to regret. But after the first year or so of college, the partying grew old. These days, I’m a one-or-two-drink girl. I teach grammar school at the Young Academy.”

“The private school on Oak Street?” Sharp asked.

“More specifically, the Christian private school. The last thing I need is for a picture of my sloppy-drunk self to show up on social media. The parents of my students would go ballistic. One whiff of scandal, and I would lose my job.”

“So what does this have to do with Noah?”

“He had—how can I say this tactfully? Noah’s sexual appetites were a little more adventurous than mine.” A blush stained her cheeks. “I like fruity, girly drinks. No matter what I ordered, he would bring me a double. If we were at his house, he added extra alcohol to mine. Face it, after a drink or two, particularly doubles, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it took me a while to figure out what he was doing. When I did, I felt incredibly stupid.”

“Did you confront him?”

“I did. He said I was a prude, and he was just trying to loosen me up.” The red of her cheeks darkened with anger. “I broke up with him immediately. Who would date a guy she can’t trust?”

“Smart of you.”