“New.” Olivia sliced her hand again. “New, safe, dependable, and able to handle Vermont winters. I’m going to give you the name of the saleswoman I bought my last two cars from. We came to terms, and if she wants my future business, she’ll do the same for you.”
“Be smart, Morgan, and say thank you.”
“I do thank Gram. I thank both of you.” The gratitude burned in her throat, her heart, her belly. “But the fact is, I don’t know if I’ll have a job after I take this to the Jamesons.”
“Don’t buy trouble when everyone can get it for free,” Olivia advised her. “Go do what you have to do. Then you go to the dealership. I’ve got her card.”
She took out a business card folder, thick as a brick, flipped through. “Here it is. I’m going to call her, tell her what you’re after, and what I expect.”
Next she took out a checkbook. “Don’t you come home without a decent vehicle.” She made out a check to the dealership, dated, signed, left the amount blank. “We’ll work out the payments when you get home.”
“We’ll be there when you get home.” Taking Morgan’s hand, Audrey brought it to her cheek.
“We’ll be home, but we won’t be able to get in the house without the damn code. What the hell is it?”
Surprised it was in there, Morgan choked out a laugh and told her.
Even though Nina’s car wheezed on the drive to the resort, Morgan told herself not to think about cars yet. She could end up driving away from the resort unemployed, and if that happened a new car was pointless.
In the employee lot, she locked the car, headed down the walkway. Inside, the lobby boasted a fresh floral display, all spring, and she thought again how much she liked working here.
The people, the atmosphere, the energy, her responsibilities also appealed.
Now Gavin Rozwell could take it all away, take so much away again.
She might not work Mondays, but she had everyone’s schedule in her head. Nell, direct supervisor, had a meeting finalizing the menu for an upcoming wedding.
Not only did interrupting that or waiting until it finished seem pointless, but she felt she should take this issue straight to the top.
And Lydia Jameson worked in her office on Mondays.
She made her way to the office area and found Lydia’s door open, the woman behind the desk on her computer.
“Another double?”
“No, ma’am. If you have a minute?”
Lydia signaled a come-ahead. Morgan went inside, shut the door.
* * *
As she did, chief of police Jake Dooley sat in Miles’s office. They’d been friends since middle school and he knew Miles as well as he knew himself, so Jake laid it all out, quick and clear.
As he listened, Miles studied the photo of Rozwell Jake gave him.
“Okay. Now give me your take. Not theirs, yours.”
“He took stupid risks—talking to the neighbor, keeping her alive for a couple days when her sister had a key. The kind of risks everything in the file I’ve read says he’s never taken.”
Shifting, Jake leaned forward and tapped a finger toward the photo.
“He’s not one of the types who wants to get caught, Miles. He enjoys what he does too much for that. He’s not only a psychopath, a sadist, he’s spoiled. He’s greedy. And he’s been, up until now, very careful.
“The locket?” Jake continued. “Not only leaving it on the victim, but replacing the pictures inside? Putting his own in there with Morgan’s? That message is clear enough.”
“Her statement is they weren’t involved as a couple.”
“Not a couple, no. But she’s on his mind, she’s connected. She’s the reason his luck changed. And he wants her to know he’s not done with her, to know and be afraid.”
“If she’s not, she’s an idiot, and she doesn’t strike me as an idiot. I’ll talk to Security, to the family, to her.”
“Good. When you talk to her, make sure she knows she can contact me, anytime. She has questions, I’ll try to answer them. I know they’ve got a security system. If they’re not using it, they’re going to.”
“Count on it.”
“I’m going to hunt up Nell.” Jake rose. “She’s Morgan’s direct supervisor, right? I want to lay this out for her.”
“Fine. I’ll let you know what Morgan has to say when I talk to her.”
Alone, he spent another minute studying Rozwell’s photo. Then he rose. He’d start with his grandmother, he decided, then work his way through the rest.