“Who is the responding officer?” Sheriff King asked.
“Detective Stella Dane,” Morgan said.
“Of course,” the sheriff muttered. “Of course you’d call your sister.”
Morgan ignored the comment. “I’ll have her send you copies of my statement.”
Lance hoped the store’s videos had recorded the encounter. But really, what would it show? The way Morgan had described the incident, she’d walked around a corner and straight into Burns. The most they could hope for was that she arrived at the store first, which would back up her claim that he followed her. If she was lucky, the cameras had caught him looking for her or acting suspicious in some way.
But Lance had a feeling luck wasn’t with her today. Every fiber in his being told her that Burns had planned their encounter. And that this was just the beginning of whatever scheme he had in mind.
“Be very careful, Counselor,” the sheriff warned. “I don’t know what Burns is up to, but he’s a very dangerous man.”
“Yes. I’m well aware of that.” Morgan’s lips pressed flat.
“Stay on your toes.” The sheriff hung up.
Morgan lowered the phone, her hand shaking. “Did you hear all that?”
“I heard enough.” Lance nodded. “Burns is up to something.”
“But what?” Morgan shoved a lock of black hair out of her eyes.
“He’s setting you up.” Lance could feel it in his bones.
Morgan stared at him, her big blue eyes wide. The fear in them an adult version of her daughter’s earlier response. The implications of Burns’s complaint were sinking in. “But for what?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”
“Oh, my God. He saw Sophie.” She turned toward the door as if to run to her daughter.
Lance caught her by the arm. “She’s in the kitchen with Sharp. She’s fine.”
Morgan nodded. “I know. It’s just—” She stopped and took one deep, controlled breath. “I can handle defending myself. But when something threatens my kids, it’s different. There’s nothing more terrifying.”
“I know.” Lance was beginning to understand the difference.
The more time he spent with Morgan’s kids, the more he thought of them as part of his life. He’d always liked kids. But Morgan’s three girls had imprinted on his heart. Their honesty, their inability to bullshit. If they liked you, they didn’t hold back. Ava and Mia were free with their affection. They’d lost their father and yet accepted him into their lives with no reservations.
And if they didn’t like you, he thought of Sophie’s resistance to his relationship with Morgan, at least you knew where you stood.
But even Sophie, or maybe especially Sophie, had wormed herself into his heart. She felt every emotion exponentially. She was a handful, but an honest one. She didn’t really dislike him. The way she’d clung to him for reassurance and safety today told him that. She’d had her mother home with her for two years. Now Morgan was back to work and forming a relationship with a man. Sophie hadn’t yet adjusted to Morgan being out all day. Expecting her to welcome competition for her mother’s attention was unreasonable. But Lance would be patient. Eventually she’d accept him.
Probably.
The idea of Burns even standing that close to Sophie shot Lance’s anger into the red zone. But the little girl wasn’t the one he was most worried about.
“Burns’s victim was an adult woman,” he said. “His record indicates he’s a violent predator, but I didn’t see anything to suggest he’s a pedophile.”
“That’s not much of a comfort.”
“No. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get anywhere near your girls,” Lance said. “But you’ll need to take care too. It’s far more likely you’re the one he’s stalking.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Morgan settled Sophie inside the house with Gianna. Then she stopped in her room and removed her gun from its safe. She changed into a pair of slacks with a belt to accommodate a holster at the back of her hip. Her jacket covered the weapon nicely.
She went outside. Lance stood by the Jeep talking to Stella and Brody. Leaning on his cane in the driveway, Grandpa was wearing his sidearm.
An icy shiver slid though Morgan’s belly. All this activity was because of one man, a violent sexual offender who Morgan had made contact with.
It was her fault Burns had taken an interest in her.
The former prosecutor in Morgan wanted nothing more than to put Harold Burns under police surveillance until he did something illegal. There was nothing in the man’s manner that indicated he was at all interested in being redeemed. In her opinion, it was only a matter of time until Burns gave in to his proclivities.
“Thanks for hanging out here,” Morgan said to her sister. “Are you sure it’s OK with your boss?”
“It’s fine. I’ve missed the girls.” Stella made a shooing gesture with her hand. “Go. Solve your case. I’ll be here until you get back.”
“Stella and I have this covered.” Grandpa tapped his cane on the driveway.
Grandpa had always been an excellent shot. He and Dad had taught all four of the Dane siblings how to handle a weapon. It had been a family ritual. Some families went to church on Sundays. The Danes had gone to the shooting range. But now Morgan wondered if Grandpa’s hands were steady enough to hit his target.
And the thought broke her heart.
Stella’s partner, Detective Brody McNamara, opened the door to his unmarked car. “I’ll head back to the station and see what I can dig up on Harold Burns.”
“The sheriff warned us off him,” Lance said.
“It’s a good thing the chief and the sheriff don’t get along,” Brody said over the roof of the sedan. “I’ll have no problem convincing the chief to investigate Burns in spite of the sheriff’s warning.”
Or because of it, knowing Horner.
“That’s making politics work for you,” Lance said.
“For once, right? I’ll let you know what I learn.” Brody slid behind the wheel and then drove away.
“I’ll be inside.” Grandpa wobbled as he went up the front walk. Lance went ahead of him, holding the door open as her grandfather navigated the steps and threshold.
“He’s really unsteady,” Morgan said to her sister.
“I know.” Stella sighed. “But at least I convinced him to use his cane outside. I have this covered for today. You’ve handled the lion’s share of his care up until now. It’s my turn.”
“Actually, up until now, he’s taken care of me.” Morgan stared at the front of the house. “I’m having trouble with the turnabout.”
“I know. He’s always been there for all of us.” Stella looped an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “And now we’ll be there for him.”
“We will.” Morgan nodded. “We need to call Ian and Peyton. They should know what’s going on with him.”
“If they wanted to know, they would call more often,” Stella said.
“Peyton calls now and then, or at least she tries to.” Morgan’s younger sister was a forensic psychiatrist in California. “And Ian talks to Grandpa at least once a week.”
Stella had little patience for their siblings. “Ian lives three hours away. He could visit.”