Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane 3)

Morgan checked the photo in her file. “How old is he?”

“Too old to be wearing skinny jeans,” Lance said. Brian had buttoned the tight pants below a small paunch.

“Maybe his kids bought them for him.”

Lance parked at the curb, and they got out of the vehicle.

The man stopped raking and approached them. “Can I help you?”

“Brian Leed?” Lance asked.

“That’s me.” Brian leaned on his rake. His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Lance Kruger.”

Brian straightened. “Geez. You got big.”

Lance shook his hand. “This is my associate Morgan Dane. We’d like to ask you a few questions about my father.”

“Of course.” Brian turned, gesturing them to follow him. “Come inside.”

The garage door was up. He hung his rake on the way past a long, low car covered in a tarp. One corner had been folded up, revealing the shiny black fender of a sports car. Inside the house, a short hall opened into the kitchen.

Unlike her husband, Natalie Leed wasn’t fighting the years. She’d gained weight. Her blonde hair was short and streaked with gray. A blue apron declared her the “World’s Best Grandma.”

Brian introduced Morgan to his wife and then said, “Nat, do you remember Lance Kruger?”

Natalie’s mouth formed an O as she shook Lance’s hand. “Oh. Wow. Didn’t you grow up handsome?”

“He wants to talk about Vic,” Brian said.

“Of course.” She gestured to the table. “Please sit. I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

They slid around an oak table and Natalie served coffee in dainty little cups with gold rims. Morgan sipped hers, her eyes closing briefly with appreciation.

Natalie Leed set a thermal coffee carafe on the table, then went to the counter to open a cookie jar shaped like a rooster. She loaded a plate with cookies.

“I try to keep in shape, but Natalie is just too damned good of a baker.” Brian’s arms were muscled enough to suggest he spent some time in the gym.

In contrast to Stan Adams’s pretentious and aloof McMansion, the Leeds’ house felt homey and warm. Knickknacks—some of which looked like clumsy grade-school clay projects—and photographs of children crowded the surfaces of tables and bookcases. Not a speck of dust clung to any of the clutter.

Lance had been in the house before, a long time in the past. In his mind, he pictured a summer day, tables in the yard, balloons tied to the backs of chairs, kids running and laughing. A birthday party?

But as comfortable as the house felt, Brian’s occasional side-eye triggered Lance’s suspicion.

“Are those your grandchildren?” Morgan pointed to a pair of school pictures that hung on the wall.

“Yes.” Crow’s-feet crinkled around Natalie’s eyes. Her smile beamed with pride. “Joshua is six, and Kayla is five.”

“And Natalie spoils them rotten,” Brian said with a hint of criticism.

“That’s my job.” Natalie shot him a look that said their marriage wasn’t as perfect as Lance had imagined. “I’m their grandma.”

Brian gave her a quick, irritated frown, then his face turned serious. “We saw that the police pulled your dad’s car from the lake on the news. I assume that’s why you’re here?”

“Yes,” Lance said.

“We haven’t heard any updates.” Brian lowered his voice. “They said a body was found in the car. Was it Vic?”

“No,” Lance said. “Did either of you know a woman named Mary Fox?”

Brian stared at his plate, his brows lowered, his mouth set. “I don’t think so.”

Natalie shook her head. “That name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“She was a waitress at PJ’s,” Lance prompted.

Brian played with his fork. “There were several waitresses at PJ’s. Can you describe her?”

“I can do better than that.” Morgan reached for the tote next to her chair. Pulling it onto her lap, she removed a picture from the side pocket. “This was Mary.”

Natalie took the picture. “I remember her.” She frowned as she passed it to Brian.

Brian’s jaw shifted as he took the photo. “Oh, that Mary. Her last name was Fox? Yeah, I remember her. Why?” He handed the picture back to Morgan, as if he couldn’t wait to get it out of his hands.

Lance dropped the bomb. “Her skeleton was found in the trunk of my father’s car.”

Brian gaped. “That makes no sense.”

“Did she seem to have a special relationship with Vic?” Morgan moved her notebook to her lap and wrote something down.

Brian looked away.

“I don’t think so,” Natalie said. “But I only went to PJ’s once in a while. Brian, Stan, and Vic were the regulars.” Natalie cleared her throat, her lips pursing in a prudish frown. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t a very nice girl. She seemed to enjoy flirting with married men when their wives were sitting right there.”

Brian stared at his plate. “She flirted with everyone. That’s just the way she was.”

“Did you hear anything about her soliciting from the bar?” Lance asked.

Natalie sniffed. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Brian winced. “There were rumors.”

“Did either of you notice when Mary suddenly stopped working at PJ’s?” Morgan asked.

“No.” Natalie broke off a piece of cookie. “There were other waitresses. She wasn’t there every time I went anyway.”

“No. Maybe.” Brian still wouldn’t meet Lance’s gaze. Was he hiding something or was Lance overly suspicious? “Like Natalie said, we wouldn’t give much thought to a change in waitstaff.”

Lance changed topic. “Did you notice anything unusual about my dad in the weeks before he disappeared?”

Brian toyed with a cookie. “He was worried about your mom. She seemed overwhelmed all the time.”

Morgan turned to Natalie. “How well did you know Jenny Kruger?”

“Not that well. I invited her over for Tupperware parties, book club, that sort of thing. She didn’t seem very interested in being closer friends.” Natalie gave Lance a pitying look. “I reached out to your mother several times after Vic went missing. She never responded, and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t push the issue. I should have. I should have checked on you. I’m sorry. I assumed she had family or other close friends.”

She hadn’t.

Sorrow filled Lance when he thought of all the milestones his dad had missed. He couldn’t think of any more questions. Emotions and memories were clogging his brain. “Thank you for your time.”

He and Morgan left the house in a rush. Anger and frustration welling deep in Lance’s chest.

Morgan took his arm as they walked to the Jeep. Her grip was solid and sure. “That must have been hard for you.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.

She let go of him when they reached the Jeep parked at the curb. But she didn’t drop the subject. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I don’t know.”

“For all Natalie’s perfection as a mother, she utterly failed to check on a child who needed help.” Morgan shut her car door extra hard. “She keeps a perfect house. Probably cooks every meal from scratch. But she didn’t do the one thing she should have.”