Dark Room (15 page)

“I matched him up with both Karly and Rachel. He saw each of them this past weekend. The fact that they were the women involved in this hit-and-run, combined with the fact that he’s digging around for me—he thinks it could be some kind of message telling me to back off.”

“Or telling
him
to back off.”

“In this case, isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not necessarily.” Monty shook his head. “Denton’s a prosecutor. He’s got enemies, just like your father did. Maybe one of them’s been following him around and decided to go after the women he’s seeing. I wonder why his mind didn’t go in
that
direction—unless he has reason for it not to.”

Morgan jumped on that one pronto. “You think he knows something he’s not ready to share.” She didn’t wait for an answer. “So do I. In fact, he all but admitted it. He just shuts down whenever I press him, asks me to be patient and give him time and space.”

“Then give him the time and space he’s asking for. Keep your relationship with him strong and positive. Let me be the bad guy. Or Congressman Shore—
if
it comes to that. I hope it won’t. A direct confrontation should be our last resort. We’re much better off soft-pedaling it. Pressure would only piss Denton off or scare him off, and we need him in our corner.”

“But if he’s withholding inside information…”

“Then he might have a good reason for doing so,” Monty finished for her. “Remember, he’s wading through mounds of red tape, and avoiding
land mines along the way. That’s a rough job. As far as we know, he’s loyal to you and your father—unless he proves otherwise.” A pensive pause. “Let’s see if I can get some answers from a different source.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, you let me worry about that.” Monty’s head came up and he peered around curiously, as if becoming aware that something was missing. “Speaking of Jill, where is she? I thought you said she was home.”

Morgan nodded. “She is. It’s her yoga time. She’s upstairs, centering herself.” A sigh. “Jill’s amazing at finding ways to unwind. I wish they worked for me. I’m not too good at finding inner peace.”

“I hear you. My wife keeps trying to reform me. She’s not the yoga type, but she’s into the great outdoors. She finds herself when she’s hiking, camping, or horseback riding. Since I moved back in, she’s got me taking long walks with her. She says they’re energy-restoring, physically and mentally.”

“And?”

“And I like them. They get my blood pumping, and give me a chance to tromp around in the snow with Sally. But as for being restored, the only part of me that works for is my body. My mind is running on a treadmill of its own.”

Morgan smiled, leaning forward and propping her chin on her palm. “Lane’s a lot like you, isn’t he?”

“Afraid so.”

“He’s got two sides to him,” Morgan continued, speaking as much to herself as to Monty. “One side’s warm, insightful, and charismatic.”

“And the other’s a stubborn, independent, reckless pain in the ass.”

“Exactly.” Realizing how brusque that sounded, Morgan gave him a rueful look. “Sorry. That came out pretty insulting.”

“Nope. Just true.” Monty shrugged. “Lane’s a complex guy. He’ll get there. He just needs to understand why.”

Before Morgan could question that cryptic remark, Monty’s cell phone rang.

“I’m a popular guy tonight,” he noted, glancing at the caller ID. “Ah, speak of the devil.” He punched the send button. “Lane? Did you find something?” His eyes narrowed. “Huh. No, no major surprise. The better question is, does it show us anything meaningful? Fine, keep enhancing. I’ll be
back soon.” A pause. “Yes, she’s fine. Just spooked by some fluke-ish events. Sure, hang on.” He handed the cell to Morgan. “He wants to talk to you.”

Morgan took the phone and put it next to her ear. “Hi. I take it you’re still enhancing.”

“Like a demon. I’m just checking in. You okay?”

“Fine. Your father’s got my minidrama under control.”

“Nothing serious?”

“Just more puzzle pieces.”

“Monty will solve them.”

“I know. With your help.”

“Count on it.” Lane blew out a breath. “Listen, you know I’m going to Colorado with Arthur tomorrow.”

“Jill reminded me, yes.”

“Well, I’ll be back on Wednesday. Are you free for dinner?”

Morgan’s lips curved. “I’ll be a boring aftermath to heli-skiing.”

“I disagree. You’ll be a major source of inspiration.”

There was that charisma, sucking her in. Lane Montgomery at his best was near impossible to resist. “In that case, yes, I’m free.”

“Not anymore. You’re taken for the evening.”

“Ah, and you’re the taker? So this is an order, not a request?”

His chuckle brushed her ear. “Point made. I’ll rephrase. Would you please join me for dinner on Wednesday night? I’d like nothing more. I’ll even make it your choice of cuisine.”

“Nice incentive. I’d be delighted to.”

“Excellent. Is it all right if I call you with an exact time? I’ll have a better idea of what’s what on Wednesday, before we take off for home. Then you can tell me where you want to eat, and I’ll make the reservation.”

“Works for me. We’ll talk then. Have fun.” She gazed quizzically at Monty. “Do you want to talk to your dad?” she asked Lane.

“Have him call me on his way back to my place. We’ll talk as he walks.”

“Is there something to talk about?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll let Monty explain.” A pause. “Good night. Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try.” Morgan punched end and handed the phone back to Monty. “He said you should call him while you’re walking back to his town house.”

“Will do.”

“He also said you’d tell me what he was calling you about.”

One dark brow rose. “
Me?
Funny, I got the feeling he was calling
you
.”

Morgan refused to take the bait, although she did feel her cheeks flush. “What did Lane find?”

“An extra negative,” Monty replied, sobering. “Whether or not that turns out to be significant remains to be seen.”

“I don’t understand.” She turned up her palms in noncomprehension. “What do you mean an extra negative? Where did it come from?”

A shrug. “Could be we never saw a print of it because it wasn’t clear enough to use seventeen years ago, and now technology’s changed that. Could be it resembled another negative closely enough to be overlooked as a duplicate. Could be a print was made but it got lost in another file, or was swiped by a cop who wanted it for his collection. It sounds nuts, but it happens. What’s more important is what Lane can get off of it, if anything.”

Morgan’s gaze remained steady. “Is it a picture of my parents’ bodies?”

“Yes.”

Her nod was tight, but resolved. “I need to see those photos. Let’s do it tomorrow, while Lane is away and won’t need access to them.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. It’s time you and I had that in-depth conversation you suggested. We’ll do it all at once. The photos, the entire case file, and your probing into my childhood memories. If I have information I don’t realize I have, it’s time we found out.”

Monty’s mouth thinned into a grim line. “Did you talk to your shrink about this? Does he think it’s a good idea? That you’re ready?”

“He agrees it’s necessary.” A humorless smile. “He’ll be on standby, in case I go to pieces. But I won’t.”

“No, I don’t think you will. Fine. We’ll make time tomorrow.”

“I’m at your disposal. Morning or afternoon?”

“Let’s go for afternoon. I’ll use the morning to look into that hit-and-run.” Monty paused. “Speaking of evening, I take it you’re seeing Lane on Wednesday.”

“We’re having dinner. But don’t worry. I promise to send him right back to the photo lab.”

“That’s not why I asked.” Another pause, as Monty studied her. “There’s an interesting chemistry going on between you and my son.”

That startled her. “I…” The flush was back on her cheeks. “Is that a problem?”

“Not for me. Not in the way you mean.” Monty waved away her embarrassment. “Sorry. My observation came out wrong. I don’t screen Lane’s dates. I stopped doing that ages ago. He’s thirty-three, way past the point where I butt into his personal life.” A wry grin. “Actually, this is a strange, ironic position for me to be in.”

“I’m not following.”

“I’m very protective of my daughters; overly so, they’d both tell you. Their mother would agree. You should have seen what I put my son-in-law through before I gave his relationship with Devon my stamp of approval. And my other daughter, Meredith—she’s got a boyfriend, but I’m not happy. She’s just turning twenty-two, way too young to be involved with a guy.”

“Let me guess.” Morgan’s lips twitched. “You’ve had a double standard where it comes to your son.”

“Sort of. My values were the same. But I worried less. Till now.”

“You’re worried about Lane—because he’s seeing me?”

“Nope. It’s the other way around. Lane’s not the one I’m worried about. You are. I don’t want you getting hurt. I told that to Lane, too—in no uncertain terms.” A wry grin. “I told you the situation was ironic.”

Morgan felt oddly touched. She and Detective Montgomery had just grazed each other’s lives—once, seventeen years ago, and again now—and yet there’d been a paternal quality to his behavior toward her from day one. And the funny thing was, she not only understood it, she reciprocated in kind. The bond they’d forged the night her parents had been killed, the way she trusted and respected him, the way she turned to him when she needed help—Pete Montgomery was definitely a father figure to her. Not in the same way as Arthur was; he’d raised her since she was ten. But in a distinct and different way that was hard to describe.

“I understand,” she said simply. Contemplating the rest of what he’d said, she asked, “So did you manage to scare Lane off?”

One dark brow lifted in pointed response. “You talked to him—did it sound to you like I did?”

“I guess not.”

“And I guess you’re glad.” Monty went on, evidently deciding a reply wasn’t necessary. “Okay, I get it. I’m relieved to know that whatever vibes I’m picking up on are mutual. So, I’m out of this.” A pause. “Almost. First some advice. Stay grounded. You’ve got a good, level head. You’ve also got a quick mind and a sharp tongue. They’ll keep my son in his place.”

“Check,” Morgan quipped. “Anything else?”

“No, that about covers it.”

“Then you’re safe. I’m not the type to be swept off my feet. Not even by a charmer like your son.” Morgan sobered. “To be honest, I think Wednesday night will be good for me. Lane has a way of distracting me, keeping me from obsessing over my darkest moments. And given the afternoon you and I have planned for tomorrow, what we’ll be delving into, a distraction won’t be just welcome. It’ll be crucial.”

Lines creased Monty’s forehead. “You can still change your mind about going through the crime-scene photos.”

“No.” An adamant shake of her head. “We both know that without digging into the past, we won’t get the answers we need. And that thought is more terrifying to me than anything I’ll have to face tomorrow.”

“I can’t argue that point.” Monty polished off his coffee and rose. “I have to get back to Lane’s. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Detective…” She stopped him from leaving without some tangible reassurance. “You’ll call me if you find anything significant?”

“Yes, but don’t expect any overnight miracles. Lane’s lectured me repeatedly that what he does is a precise, detailed, and lengthy process. So you and I are going to have to conjure up some patience. If anything does turn up sooner rather than later, you’ll hear from me. Also, I’ll call you in the morning if I learn something about the hit-and-run.” He turned, gave her a questioning look. “As for our afternoon get-together, do you want to meet here? Or would it be easier to do this on more neutral turf?”

“More neutral and less harried,” Morgan murmured, folding her arms across her breasts. “Why don’t I come to your office?”

“If you can break away, that would make more sense.”

“I’ll be there.”

Nodding, Monty headed for the staircase. “Get some sleep,” he instructed
over his shoulder. “And start eating, or I’ll rat you out to Lenny. In which case, he and Rhoda will send over a U-Haul of cold cuts and noodle pudding.”

“Too late.” Morgan followed him downstairs, plucking his parka off the coatrack and handing it to him. “Arthur already blabbed. My fridge is so full, it groans when I open it.”

“Then empty it by eating.” Monty gave her a long, stern look. “You’ve got to stay strong. Not just emotionally, but physically.”

“I realize that, Detective. I promise to do my best.”

“Do that. By the way, now that I’ve stuck my nose in your personal life and nagged you about your health, can we cut the formalities? Call me Monty.”

She shifted a bit. “That’s going to be hard. You’re a police detective. I met you as a child. You were bigger than life. You still are.”

“Interesting. You were raised by a famous politician. Do you call him Congressman Shore?”

Morgan’s lips twitched. “I see your point. Okay, you win. I’ll try—Monty.”

“See how easy that was?” Monty shrugged into his parka. “Now lock up behind me. Read a book. Put on a CD. Or go upstairs and join Jill. Get into frog position, or whatever the hell it’s called. See you tomorrow.”

OUTSIDE THE BROWNSTONE,
Monty didn’t waste a minute. He punched up Lane’s number as he started on the brisk walk back.

“Hey,” his son greeted him. “Are you on your way?”

“As we speak. Tell me about that extra negative.”

“Like I said, it’s a shot of Lara and Jack Winter’s bodies. The good news is it’s pretty clear, it’s centrally focused on both bodies, and crime scene took it before they touched or shifted anything or anyone. Which means we’ve got a fair chance of finding something here. If I had to choose one overlooked negative, this would be it.”

“It shouldn’t have been overlooked in the first place,” Monty muttered. “It was careless and stupid. Everything was just chucked in a box and filed away once Schiller confessed. That should never have happened.”