Kieran’s lip curled and his face pinched, as if cooperating with them was the equivalent of wading through raw sewage. He opened the center drawer of his desk and took out a slip of paper. He held it across the desk. “I found this in the console of my car after we spoke last time. It’s a copy of a gas receipt. I was in Syracuse at one a.m.”

Morgan reached for the receipt. The dog’s growl grew louder. Sweat dripped between her shoulder blades, and her shirt stuck to her back as she read the slip of paper. The receipt was time-stamped 1:17 a.m.

“I had nothing to do with that man’s death.” Kieran sat back in his leather chair. “I trust you’re satisfied?”

“Thank you for sharing the receipt,” Morgan said.

Kieran’s nod was curt. “We’re done here. I’ve been more than cooperative. I am not answering any more of your questions.”

Morgan took a step backward toward the door. The dog’s gaze shifted to her. Kieran’s eyes were cold, and there was a darkness in them that made her believe that deep down, he wanted to set the dog on them. She knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t stupid. But he wanted to.

Lance moved sideways, angling his body between her and the dog.

“Oh, and Ms. Dane?” Kieran’s lip curled. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll put my attorney on notice in case the sheriff comes calling.”

“Do you think you’re going to need him?” His arrogance grated on Morgan. “Is that the same attorney who convinced the Connecticut authorities to drop the stalking charges?”

“It is.” Kieran smirked, then his expression darkened further. “Now please get out of my office. If you wish to speak with me again, you can contact my lawyer.”

“I’ll speak with your attorney anytime,” Morgan said. She wasn’t afraid of Kieran or his lawyer. The dog was another issue all together. Anyone with a brain would be wary of a huge, angry canine.

Kieran said nothing as Morgan and Lance backed out of the room. Lance shut the door behind them. He detoured to the blonde receptionist’s desk on the way out of the office. “Mr. Hart has one big dog. Does he bring it to the office often?”

“Yes.” The blonde’s forehead furrowed. “All the time.” She glanced back at her boss’s door, the set of her lips and curl of her shoulders implying she was not a fan of Luther.

Morgan led the way back to the elevator. Relief swept over her as the heavy steel doors closed. “I love dogs, but I’ll pass on petting that one.”

“Me too.” Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What do you think of Kieran’s alibi?”

“Syracuse is roughly two and a half hours from here.” Morgan buttoned her coat. “The receipt was time-stamped just after one a.m. His neighbor’s surveillance camera caught him arriving home at four a.m. That wouldn’t leave him much time to kill Noah.”

The elevator doors opened, and Lance followed Morgan through the lobby and outside. They crossed the parking lot and climbed into the car. “Assuming Kieran can’t be the killer because he was driving all over New York State while Noah was being stabbed, where does that leave us?”

“Is there any way he could have faked that receipt?”

“I suppose the slip could have been altered. But he used a credit card for payment. If the DNA on the dog hair is verified to be a Rottweiler, then we’ll have grounds to subpoena his credit card statement to support the transaction. There isn’t anything else we can do with Kieran until we get that report, which we both know could take weeks or months.”

“We’ll back-burner Kieran as the lead suspect for now.”

Morgan reached for her travel mug. She chugged the lukewarm liquid, then rubbed her temple. The dull ache in her head had returned. Extra-strength pain relievers had little effect. Sleep was the only remedy.

Lance frowned at her. “How’s the headache?”

“The same.” She dropped her hand. “It’s no worse. I’m just frustrated with the case.”

“Maybe we should call it a day? It’s getting late.”

She stared out the passenger window. Clouds had blown in during the afternoon. It would be dark soon. “That two-hour nap you let me take ate up too much of our afternoon. Let’s at least try to talk to Justin before we wrap up the day.” Morgan would spend the weekend reading and rereading every piece of evidence they had accumulated so far.

Her phone rang, and she answered the call. “Hi, Sharp. You’re on speaker.”

“I just left the pub. No one knew anything about Noah’s murder case. Colgate was furious when the initial case details were leaked to the press. Now he’s keeping information under tight wraps. But I did learn something very unexpected. Shannon Yates was at Beats the Saturday night before Noah was murdered.”

Morgan stared at the phone. “But the news report said she’d last been seen at work the previous Friday. The sheriff’s department claimed that’s when she went missing.”

“That’s what the sheriff’s department previously thought,” Sharp said. “Apparently she went to the bar alone and paid cash. There was no record of her visit. The police just learned she’d been there. One of the bouncers came forward yesterday after seeing her picture on the news.”

Static sounded over the connection.

Morgan leaned closer to the phone. “This is a surprising development.”

“That’s all I got.” Sharp’s words were broken with spaces of dead air. “The deputies I knew in the department have all quit. We need a leak from someone who is still there. I wonder . . .”

A few seconds of quiet passed.

“Sharp, are you still there?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Sharp said. “Sorry. I was thinking. We’re losing our connection. I’ll get back to you.”

The line went dead.

Lance said, “I was curious about the Shannon Yates case, and I didn’t like its coincidental timing and similarities with Haley’s, but I didn’t predict a link this strong between the two cases.”

“No.” Morgan tapped her lower lip with a forefinger. “I don’t want to get ahead of the investigation, but this could change everything. We need to know where all of our suspects were the night Shannon Yates went missing.”

“Definitely.”

“Shannon Yates was just identified yesterday.” Morgan used her smartphone to search for more information. “According to the local news, Shannon worked at the Lakeview Inn in Grey’s Hollow. Her boss is the person who reported her missing.”

“Shall we take a ride past the Lakeview Inn and talk to Shannon Yates’s employers?”

“Yes.” Morgan pulled up the inn’s website on her smartphone. “The inn is owned by Carol and Bob Shaker.”

“Here’s hoping the Shakers will talk to us.”

“It’s frustrating that we can’t compel anyone to answer our questions. As a prosecutor, I had some authority. Now witnesses treat me like I’m a criminal.”

“Just in this case. In previous investigations, we’ve found people who think the cops are the criminals.”

“Where are all those people now?” Morgan asked.

Lance sighed. “There aren’t enough career criminals in this case. No one is afraid of the police.”

“But not because they’re law-abiding citizens. Kieran is a voyeur and a pervert and has a history of stalking. Noah liked to sneak extra alcohol into his dates’ drinks, Justin was once accused of date rape, and the victim’s brother has a history of violent behavior and assault.” Morgan rested her head against the seat. “This time, it isn’t innocence that is making witnesses shut down on us. It’s guilt. Unfortunately, they all think they’ll get away with whatever they’ve done.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Lance slowed the car and took in the impressive property.

The Lakeview Inn sat on a large chunk of prime waterfront real estate. The main building was an old Victorian mansion with an enclosed front porch that spanned the length of the building and a two-story round turret that ended in a spire. The inn was beautifully maintained. Freshly painted gingerbread trim gleamed white against dark-gray clapboards. Several smaller buildings were spread out on the lawn behind the main building. Behind them, the late afternoon sun shimmered on Grey Lake.