Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane 1)

He glanced down at his hands. No matter how much he washed them, he couldn’t seem to get rid of the imaginary bloodstains. He curled his fingers into tight fists. His nails dug into his palms. The sharp bite of pain was grounding.

It amazed him that he could walk around in public, and no one saw through him. He knew what he was, and it wasn’t normal. Other people would be horrified at the things he dreamed about. He worked hard to pretend he was like everybody else.

All that hard work had paid off after he lost it Thursday night. He had gotten his shit back together and taken care of business.

Now he needed to act like everything was fine. But it was getting tougher to pretend. How does a monster act normal?

He listened for a few seconds but heard nothing. The house was empty. No police cars were parked outside. No one was waiting to expose his secrets.

He went to his closet, turned on the light, and moved aside a few boxes. In the back corner, he lifted the carpet, then pried up a small piece of the floor. Inside the hole was a shoebox. A chilly shiver of excitement passed through him as he held the box in his hands. It felt too light considering all that it held.

His secrets.

His demons.

His guilt.

Setting it on the floor, he opened it. Photographs of Tessa stared up at him. He picked up a picture by the corner. A tear slipped from his eye and landed onto the photo. He wiped it away with an angry gesture. The pain in his heart intensified.

I loved you. Why couldn’t you just love me back?

How could he live without her?

She’d been perfect. Sweet. Innocent. Beautiful.

She’d said she hadn’t loved him back. She’d tried to reject him. But she’d been lying to herself. No matter how hard she’d tried to deny it, she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her. Turning on him had been her ultimate betrayal.

But now she was gone. At first he’d blamed himself for his lack of control, but she’d forced him to do what he’d done. She knew about his temper, and still she’d backed him into a corner, she’d threatened him. He’d had no choice. He’d been relieved when he’d realized that it had been her own fault.

Why did you make me hurt you?

He flipped through the stack of photos, each one a stab to his heart. But by the time he’d reached the end of the pile, he’d become conditioned to the pain. He went through the pile again and again, until he could view each image without responding. Then he put the photos away.

He fished in the bottom of the box for the lock of hair he’d taken the night he’d killed her. He ran his fingers through it but stopped when he touched something hard and crusty. He held the hair to the light.

Blood.

Another reminder that she was gone. Nothing would ever be the same again.

His grip around the hair tightened. He left the closet and went to his bathroom. Running the water in the sink, he blocked the drain and washed the hair with shampoo.

Then he returned to the closet. The hair went back into the box. The box was placed in the hole, the floorboard and carpet put back. No one would know what he’d hidden there.

Just as no one would ever guess what he’d done. If his plan worked, the police would never suspect him. Yes, he’d lost control. He’d snapped. But he’d pulled himself together and cleaned up his mess.

Now it was time to do the same with his life.

Tessa was gone, but he wasn’t. As much as he missed her, he was going to have to think about her replacement. The monster inside him had to be fed.

As long as he lived, he’d have needs.

Dark needs.

Needs someone would have to meet.

Chapter Eleven

Morgan opened her eyes to a throbbing headache. She hadn’t slept much since finding Tessa’s body, and Nick’s arrest the day before had kept her awake long into the night. When she did manage to drift off, her nightmares were filled with images of Tessa and Nick and blood. Eventually, her subconscious got around to substituting her own girls in Tessa’s place.

Wasn’t that part of what drove her denial? She didn’t want to believe she’d let a murderer into her home. That she’d introduced Nick to Tessa.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Seven o’clock! She hadn’t slept past the crack of dawn in years. She stumbled out into the hall and glanced in the girls’ bedroom. Empty. Mia and Ava had school today. Were they ready?

She ducked into the kitchen. Used cereal bowls in the sink reassured her that they’d eaten. She poured a cup of coffee, downed two ibuprofen tablets, and continued her search.

Giggles drew her out onto the deck. In the morning light, the girls chased giant bubbles in the fenced backyard. Gianna waved a huge wand through the air, sending a shimmering bubble drifting across the grass.

All three children were dressed. And, miracle of miracles, Sophie’s hair had been brushed and was fastened into two ponytails on either side of her head.

Setting her mug on the outdoor table, Morgan descended the steps barefoot. Her odd mood lifted as her three little girls raced across the lawn to greet her. She hugged Ava and Mia. Little Sophie leaped from the ground. Morgan caught her, and Sophie wrapped her clinging limbs around Morgan.

She felt her daughter’s head. Her temperature was normal, but Sophie’s sniff and swipe of her hand under her nose verified she’d caught a cold.

“Look.” Sophie pointed at her head. “Gianna gave me kitten ears.”

What a brilliant way to win Sophie’s cooperation.

Sophie squeezed as hard as she could for the count of three, and then dropped to the ground and raced away. Morgan’s heart swelled. There were times when her love for her children was almost overwhelming, especially when they smiled and she could see John in each of them.

Gianna walked over, grinning. “I’m counting that as a victory.”

“And you should. Thanks for handling the girls this morning. I can’t believe I slept so late,” Morgan said.

“You needed the sleep, and we’ve been having fun.” Gianna set another giant bubble loose.

“I don’t want them to tire you out.”

“I enjoy them.” Moisture glittered in Gianna’s eyes. “I’ve never been part of a real family before. I love living here. I keep waiting for someone to pinch me and take it all away.”

“No one is taking you anywhere.” Morgan touched her arm. “We love having you.”

Gianna blinked and wiped her eyes.

“Have you seen my grandfather?” Morgan asked.

“He went to the store. Why don’t you go get some breakfast and a shower? I’ll put Mia and Ava on the bus.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” With a backward glance at the happy children, Morgan turned toward the house.

After a hot shower, she felt almost human. She dressed, combed her hair, and brushed her teeth. Returning to the kitchen, she refilled her coffee mug. Movement pulled her gaze to the kitchen window. At the end of the driveway, the girls and Gianna waited for the school bus. Mia and Ava wore pink-and-purple backpacks. Gianna held Sophie’s hand, obviously having learned the hard way the day before just how fast Sophie’s tiny legs could run.

Morgan looked across the street. Bud and Nick’s house looked dark. How had Nick fared overnight? Had he been booked and transferred to the county jail, or was he still in the holding cell at SFPD?

She was relieved when the front door opened and Sophie burst into the kitchen. There was no better distraction than a three-year-old. Gianna was right behind the child.