Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane 1)

He shook his head. “No.”

Lance picked up on Morgan’s line of questioning. “Teenagers can be difficult. Do you have any experience with kids?”

“Um. No.” Sweat broke out on Kevin’s forehead. He dropped his chin and shook his head. “I do the best I can with Jamie, but I admit sometimes I don’t feel up to the task.”

Vanessa jumped in. “Jamie and Kevin get along as well as could be expected. They don’t fight. Kevin is extraordinarily patient with her—more patient than I am sometimes. Most teenagers are difficult, but Jamie takes that to a whole new level. Anyway, she seemed fine with our relationship right up until I told her we were getting married.”

“How does Jamie get along with her father?” Lance asked.

“They talk on the phone once in a while.” Vanessa frowned. “He just goes through the motions. Jamie knows he isn’t interested. He has a new wife and a baby on the way.”

“That must be hard on her,” Morgan said.

“She should be used to it.” Bitterness echoed in Vanessa’s voice. “He walked out on us when she was eight. He couldn’t handle her. He wanted two kids, a white picket fence, and a dog. We were hardly living the American Dream. We were broke most of the time. We were paying out of pocket for a lot of Jamie’s therapy. And money aside, he just couldn’t deal with the volatility.”

“Has Jamie run away before?” Lance asked gently.

Nodding, Vanessa blotted her eyes with a tissue. “Yes, but she was always easy to find, which made me think she didn’t really want to run away. Usually it would happen after we’d had a fight about her treatment. Getting her to therapy was a nightmare every single week. Last time she ran away, the police found her in a friend’s shed. The parents had no idea Jamie had been sleeping in their backyard for two days. Her friend brought her food and clothes and let her into the house when the parents were at work.”

“Does Jamie have hobbies?” Morgan asked. “Does she like music, shopping, sports . . . ?”

“She listens to music, but she doesn’t play an instrument or anything.” Vanessa focused on her crumpled tissue. Her breath caught in her throat.

“She likes comics and she draws,” Kevin finished for her.

Morgan had kept one eye on Kevin throughout the interview. As long as she wasn’t asking him direct questions, his nerves seemed to settle. She turned to him. “What kind of drawings?”

More sweat popped out on his head. “They look like dark comic books.”

Lance’s gaze swept from Kevin to Vanessa. “What does she do after school?”

“She locks herself in her room.” Vanessa sighed. “I do my best, but I’m lost as to how to get through to her.”

“Did she have a cell phone?” Every teen Morgan knew had a phone.

“No.” Vanessa shook her head. “I had to take it away. She was using it to access chat rooms and engage with strangers. Here at home, I have software that limits her online activity to approved educational websites.”

Lance and Morgan fished for more information, then looked around Jamie’s bedroom. The walls were covered with classic rock posters.

“She has good taste in music.” Lance nodded toward a Rolling Stones poster. He opened the closet. “All jeans and sweatshirts.”

“No nail polish or makeup either. Jamie isn’t a girly girl.” Morgan sat at the cluttered desk. The drawers were full of the usual junk: pens, pencils, paperclips. Notebooks. Morgan opened one. “She does draw her own comics.”

Lance looked over her shoulder. “She’s pretty good. Sharp took her photo to the local comic book and art supply stores but didn’t have any luck.”

“Look at these.” Morgan leaned over to see the photos stuck in the frame of the mirror over the dresser.

“These look like some of the kids from the video.” He took one down. “There’s Tessa.”

It was a selfie of Tessa and Jamie printed on computer paper.

“It was taken right here.” Morgan pointed. “There’s the Rolling Stones poster.”

They took the photo to the living room and showed it to Vanessa and Kevin. “Do you know this girl?”

They both nodded.

“That’s Tessa.” Vanessa started to cry again. “She tutored Jamie in math last year. The school arranged the match. It didn’t help her grades all that much, but the friendship was good for her. Jamie really liked Tessa. I can’t believe what happened to her.” She sobbed.

Kevin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“When was she here last?” Lance asked.

Vanessa hiccupped and spoke between hitched breaths. “Not since before final exams last June.”

They said good-bye and showed themselves out, leaving Vanessa crying on Kevin’s shoulder.

Lance pulled out the keys as they walked across the parking lot. “What do you think?”

Morgan glanced over her shoulder at the depressing brick building. “I think Vanessa Lewis is in a really tough spot.”

“Mental illness can destroy your life,” Lance agreed, his voice rough.

“Did Sharp do background checks on all the parents?” Morgan asked.

“Yes. I don’t like that Jamie left as soon as she found out her mother was marrying Kevin, but Sharp hasn’t found any red flags in either Kevin’s or Vanessa’s backgrounds. The father in California is clean too.”

“Maybe Vanessa is right and Jamie was angry that she’d have less freedom if Kevin moved in. If Jamie is oppositional, her motivation could have been as simple as not wanting her life to change or not wanting to share her space. It’s a small apartment.”

“You’re right, but I still don’t like the timing.” Lance steered her around a patch of broken glass. “And we’ve established a concrete connection between Tessa and Jamie.

“Could be a coincidence,” Morgan said. “Scarlet Falls High isn’t that big.”

“True. But it’s worth more investigation.”

“You know who else needs more investigation?” Morgan stopped at the Jeep. “Kevin.”

“You noticed all the sweating too?” Lance pulled his key fob from his pocket and unlocked the doors.

“Yes. And I would swear he was lying about something.” Morgan walked toward the passenger door. “Though excessive sweating isn’t evidence.”

“I think you’re right.” Lance looked at her over the hood of the Jeep. “Kevin has something to hide.”

Chapter Seventeen

The picture of Tessa stared back at him from his computer screen. Her dark hair was pulled away from her pretty face. It seemed like she was smiling for him.

At him.

He couldn’t use the Internet without seeing her. She was everywhere. And in none of the photos on the news was she covered in blood. So much blood.

I miss you.

He looked at his hands. Clean. He closed his eyes. How was he going to get over her?

He sucked in a deep breath.

On the screen, a reporter talked to Morgan Dane. He turned up the volume. In a taped sound bite from the day before, she claimed to know that the wrong person had been arrested for the murder of Tessa Palmer.

Impossible.

Only two people had been in the woods that night, and one of them was dead. She couldn’t possibly know the truth.