Dark Room
“Morgan told Lane as soon as they were outside the brownstone.
“Right.” His grip around her waist didn’t loosen. “You almost fainted.”
“I didn’t almost faint,” she retorted. “I never faint. But I’m glad I was convincing. If you believed me, hopefully so did Sergeant Stockton.”
“Huh?” Lane shot her a puzzled look.
“The sooner I got out of there with this”—she held up her tote bag—“the better. Stockton hadn’t gotten around to asking me if I had taken anything with me, and I wasn’t waiting around to give him the chance.” A smile curved her lips. “You might have saved your father from being charged with interfering with a police investigation, but I was wide open for obstruction of justice.”
Lane stared at her for a moment, then began to laugh. “Very clever. You certainly had me going. Here I thought I was rescuing you.”
“You were.” Morgan zipped her jacket way up to her chin. She was still shivering from the shock of the past hour. And the frigid temperatures weren’t helping.
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