by Jane Jamison
Chapter Four
I can’t believe she’s dead.
Harper sat on the couch, the same one she and Carly had purchased together, and stared into space. The voices of the police and the men sounded like background noise.
Carly is dead.
Someone broke into our apartment and murdered her.
She blinked, realizing what may have happened.
No, that isn’t right. They probably didn’t need to break in. The door was unlocked, and they probably walked right in and caught her by surprise.
I can’t believe she’s dead.
“Harper?”
She ignored the voice, caught in a world she didn’t understand. How would she tell Carly’s parents? Or her boyfriend, Henry? Was she supposed to take care of her friend’s body until Carly’s parents could fly in from Idaho? Would they expect her to make arrangements?
Oh God.
“Harper?”
Pike placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to lift her gaze to his. He sat next to her as the swarm of police kept moving around her. “Are you all right?”
Oh, sure. My roommate is dead, but I’m fine.
Instead, she twisted toward the bedrooms. “Have they taken her…body yet?” The men hadn’t wanted her to see her friend’s body. They’d held her back, but somehow she’d managed to break free. Even after they’d called the police, she hadn’t believed what they’d told her. Who would’ve wanted to hurt her friend? Carly was the most likeable person she’d ever known. She was kind and generous to a fault, always seeing the best in everyone she met. Carly was the first to help people and spent every Saturday handing out food to the homeless. She hadn’t had any enemies, especially anyone who would’ve wanted to see her dead.
“Harper, are you all right?”
Sucking in a hard breath, she concentrated on Pike. What would she have done if they hadn’t been there to help her? What if she’d come home and walked in on the killer? “Yes. I guess so.”
Her gaze slid to the polished black shoes in front of her. Following the legs, she lifted her head and stared at the policewoman holding a notepad.
“The police want to ask you a few questions. Do you think you’re up to it?” asked Pike. “If you’re not, then say so.”
“We really need to talk to you, miss.” The policewoman tapped the badge on her chest. “I’m Officer Charlotte Henderson. Can I begin?”
The last thing she wanted was to talk about her murdered friend. What was there to say? After all, the officer was only doing her job. “Yes.”
“Did you know anyone who might want to harm Miss Franklin?”
How did they know her name? Had they rummaged through her belongings? Or had the apartment manager told them? “No. No one. Everyone liked Carly.”
The officer’s blank expression didn’t change. “Did Miss Franklin receive any disturbing calls, texts, or emails in the recent past? What about her boyfriend?” She checked her notes. “Did she and Henry Allston have a good relationship? Have they been fighting?”
She hated having to discuss Carly’s private affairs with anyone, much less someone who didn’t know her.
No, not didn’t know her. Hadn’t known her. As in past tense.
“Henry loves her, and she loves him.” She winced, again realizing that she should be speaking in the past tense. “And no. As far as I know, she hadn’t received any disturbing communications. Carly would’ve told me.”
Pike rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. “Anytime you want this to stop, say the word.”
“I want it all to stop.” The anger that had been building inside since the moment she’d realized Carly was actually dead stormed to the surface. “I don’t want Carly dead. I don’t want to have to talk to the police. Can you make that stop? Can you bring her back?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Coltrane hurried over with Roth by his side. “What’s going on?”
She averted her gaze and fought to bring her emotions under control again. Yet the world seemed to continue to spin out of control.
“She doesn’t know anything, officer. Can’t this wait until later?” asked Coltrane.
“I’m afraid not.”
Harper closed her eyes and steeled herself. When she finally looked up at the plainclothes man in front of her, she knew everything had suddenly gone from bad to horrible.
“Miss Hanley, I’m Detective Garnan. Do you know a Dr. Rumpainala?”
She felt the men tense, almost as though they’d half expected the question and were ready to leap to her defense. But why would that be?
Suddenly, an image of Dr. Rump on the ground washed over her, leaving her shaking. “Yes. He’s my boss. Or at least, he’s going to be. I’m leaving my current job and taking a job at his dental practice.” Cold swept through her, turning her voice into a whisper. “Why?”
“Dr. Rumpainala was murdered yesterday. A few hours before Miss Franklin was killed.”
The world spun in front of her. Reaching out, she sought to find anything to hold on to, anything to keep her from losing control and flying into space. “He’s dead?”
“He is. He was hit over the head and killed at his wedding reception.”
Oh God.
“No.” She sought out the detective’s face, hoping to find him smiling as though he’d just told a joke. “He’s really dead?” Would she ask the same question of yet a third person today?
“He is.” His dark eyes bored into her. “Tell me what you know.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know anything,” said Pike, his voice low and filled with warning.
“Yes, I do.” Fresh horror filled her. “I saw someone kill him.”
That got a reaction from the officer and the detective.
“You saw the murder?”
She bit her lower lip and tried to sound convincing. Even when she wasn’t all that sure herself. How could she be when the memory seemed more like a dream than reality? “I think so.”
“You think so? Either you saw the murder or you didn’t. Which is it?”
“Take it easy, Detective,” warned Roth. “She’s been through enough.”
The detective knelt in front of her. “Miss Hanley, if you know something that could lead us to the killer, then it’s time to speak up. You being a witness could shed light on why your roommate was killed.”
She stared at him, at first unable to grasp his meaning. Then it hit her. The horror she’d felt before was nothing to the horror ripping her apart now. “Oh my God. You think the person who killed Dr. Rump killed Carly, don’t you?”
“Dr. Rump?” questioned the officer.
“That’s what his employees and others call him.” Another mistake. “I mean that’s what we called him.”
“It could be. If you witnessed the murder, then maybe the killer knows it. The killer might have come here to hurt you, not your roommate.”
“Oh my God.” She couldn’t stop thinking or saying that. “But how did she know who I am? The killer didn’t turn around. I don’t know who she was because I never saw her face.”
“I can’t say. Maybe they came back and saw you. We won’t know until we catch her. So you’re certain it was a woman?”
“It was definitely a woman.” Harper was sure of that much. “I heard them arguing.”
“Good to know. Keep thinking. Maybe you’ll remember more details.”
“Give her time. She’s gone through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.” Roth wasn’t backing down.
“I understand, but time is valuable when tracking down a suspect. How’d you wind up overhearing them arguing?”
“I, um, kind of stumbled onto them.” Memories, previously subdued, came rushing back.
“You stumbled onto them?” Detective Garnan peered at her as though he could coax more information from her if he stared hard enough.
Images and sounds jumbled together. She wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. “I don’t know. My memory’s kind of foggy
.”
“Why’s that?”
She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t lie. “I was drunk.” She frowned, a thought nagging at the corner of her mind. “I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink, but all of a sudden, I was really wasted.”
It was apparent that the detective wasn’t happy. A drunken witness wouldn’t help any case they could put together. “Was anyone else with you?”
“My friend Megan was, but she went back to the house to get our purses and phones so we could leave. She wasn’t with me when I overheard Dr. Rump and the killer. I was going to call her when I came home, but…”
“Why didn’t you report the murder as soon as you could?”
She wanted to cry, to be anywhere other than where she was. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight. Especially after I saw…” She stopped, aware of what she’d been about to say. The detective already acted as though she was a loser. He’d think she was crazy if she told him she’d seen a dragon.
“What else did you see?”
“The blood. After I saw the blood.”
Could he tell that she was holding out on him? If so, he didn’t say it.
“Where did you go afterward?”
This was getting worse, but she couldn’t see a way out. “I wound up passed out on the train tracks. Pike”—she shifted her gaze to him—“found me and took me back to his place to take care of me. I didn’t come to until this morning. By then, I kind of figured I’d had a bad dream. Or a drunken hallucination. I’m not proud of what I did, but that’s the truth.”
“Detective, this needs to wait until later. She’s told you everything she knows. What else do you need?”
The detective’s eyebrow jumped skyward, giving Roth a warning look to back off. “Miss Hanley’s a witness. She could be in danger.”
She couldn’t speak, could barely think. Was she really in danger? Had seeing Dr. Rump—I saw him murdered!—indirectly cause her friend’s death? Shudders racked through her, even as Pike put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“Miss Hanley, we’re going to put you into protective custody.”
Her mouth fell open as she gaped at the detective. “You’re going to take me to a safe house? Or into the Witness Protection Program?”
“We’ll keep you safe.” His attention flicked between the men. “It’s better that I don’t get into particulars right now.”
“No.” Coltrane crossed his arms, determined.
“What?” She wasn’t sure about anything any longer. “No what?”
“No. You’re not going into protective custody.”
“He’s right. You need to stay with us.” Roth took a stance next to Coltrane.
“Good idea,” added Pike, who gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“Gentlemen, I understand that you want to help, but you can’t protect her like we can.” The detective was as determined as the men were.
“You’re right. We can protect her better than you can.”
She studied Coltrane and realized he believed what he’d said. Strangely, she believed it, too.
The detective, however, wasn’t about to argue with them. “Miss Hanley, you’re better off with those of us who know how to do this kind of thing.”
“She’s better off with us.”
For a moment, she would’ve sworn that Pike’s eyes had turned red. But the color had come and gone so fast she couldn’t be sure.
“It’s my choice, isn’t it?” She didn’t want to anger either the police or the men. “You can’t force me into protective custody, can you?”
“Yes, miss, I can, but I don’t like doing that against a person’s wishes. Still, I need to stress how much better protected you’d be with us in charge.”
She had to choose, but was it really a choice? Going with the police was the logical thing to do. Yet, her gut was telling her something different. “I want to go home with Pike and his friends. I just met them, and no one, not even my closest friends, know where they live. Besides, you don’t know for certain that I’m in danger.”
“Miss Hanley—”
“Detective, she’s made her decision.”
The muscles in the detective’s jaw jumped. “Fine. For now. But we’ll need to get a formal statement.”
“We can bring her into the station tomorrow,” offered Pike.
“You’re making a mistake, Miss Hanley. I could force the issue, get a judge to—”
“No.” With the help of Pike, she got to her feet. “I’m sure you can find some legal way to put me into protective custody, but if you do, I won’t be cooperative. I won’t help you with the investigation. Detective, I’m sorry, but I want to go with my friends.”
Detective Garnan did his best to hide his frustration, but it still showed on his face and in the glint of his eyes. “Fine, but I’ll need to know how to contact you.”
Coltrane, his hard demeanor softening, put his hand on the detective’s shoulder. “I’ll give you our contact information.”
* * * *
Harper didn’t remember much after that. The trip to the men’s home was lost in a blur of landscape as they drove out of Dallas and into the countryside. The house loomed ahead of them, and strangely, she felt as though she was coming home.
They took care of her, speaking to her gently and helping her up the stairs and into the same bedroom she’d used the night before. As though it were an ordinary thing, she allowed them to undress her, to slip a gown over her head—had they packed for her?—and then brush her hair. Murmurs of assurances, of protection, of comfort wafted over her as they helped her into the bed and pulled the covers over her aching body.
Did grief physically hurt?
She didn’t have the strength to thank them. Instead, she took the pill they offered her and closed her eyes. Sweet, blissful sleep came swiftly.
* * * *
Coltrane clenched his fists as he stared out the front window of their home. Thanks to the over-the-counter sleep aid they’d found in her medicine cabinet, she was sleeping soundly upstairs, getting a much-needed respite from the problems surrounding her.
He gritted his teeth and tried to think of something he could do to help. He wasn’t the type to stand by while someone he cared about was in trouble. He was more of the beat-the-shit-out-of-them kind of guy, and right now, he didn’t have anyone to beat on.
Although Harper had been in their lives for less than two days, he’d already grown fond of her. More than fond. He’d felt a physical attraction to her, but it was more than that.
Waiting around in her apartment while the cops finished their investigation had given them time to look around, to see the mementos of her life, and to listen to the neighbors who the police had questioned talk about how nice both she and Carly were. She might be a girl who had partied too much at her now deceased boss’s wedding, but she was also a girl with a big heart.
“You know those two murders have to be connected.”
Coltrane turned at Pike’s words to find both his friends seated on the sofa. “Damn straight. She witnesses one murder and then her friend gets killed? They have to be connected.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
He snarled at Pike. Sometimes his friend was too calm. Pike would look at a problem from every side before taking action. Action Coltrane wanted to take right then and there.
“Bullshit,” answered Roth. “He’s right. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be connected.”
Coltrane could sense that Pike felt the same way. He was just being overly cautious. “We need to find out who did it. She won’t be safe until we do.”
“Why’d the murderer kill her roommate?”
Coltrane drew in a ragged breath. Pike would have to go through every angle before he’d come around to the right answer. That meant asking questions they already knew the answers to. Then, if possible, they could ask the questions they didn’t have answers to. “Again, it’s obvious. Carly was in the wrong place at the wrong
time.”
“So you think the killer came after Harper and ran into Carly instead?”
He was getting tired of saying things were obvious. “Looks that way to me.”
“But how’d the killer know to come after Harper?” asked Roth.
“Obviously”—Coltrane glared at both his friends—“it happened like the detective said it did. The killer came back and saw Harper bending over Dr. Rump’s body.”
“So why didn’t the killer murder Harper right then?” asked Pike.
“Maybe she heard someone else coming. Who knows? Maybe the killer knew Harper before she killed the dentist,” added Roth.
“Could be. At the very least, she got a good look at her.” Pike rose and paced over to the wet bar. He poured himself two inches of whiskey. “So here’s what may have happened. The killer went to Harper’s home, hoping to kill her before she told anyone what she’d seen. Instead, she ran into poor Carly and ended up killing her. Maybe Carly found her waiting in the apartment.”
“Sounds like an episode of some television show.” Roth motioned for Pike to pour him a drink.
“We know another thing that’ll bring down the number of suspects.”
“What’s that?” Pike tilted his head at Coltrane.
“We know that the killer attended the wedding, the reception, or both. And we know it was a woman.”
Damn. He hated it when Pike shook his head.
“We don’t know that. In fact, according to what Harper told us earlier about what the killer was wearing, I doubt she was a guest. A woman wearing a hoodie would’ve stood out at a formal affair.”
Shit. He hated it that Pike was usually right, too. Still, there was a catch.
“I don’t know, man. The killer probably didn’t attend the wedding dressed in a hoodie. She could’ve changed after attending the wedding and then the reception. The real question is how’d she get the doc alone?”
Pike shook his head and poured himself another drink. “Hell, we don’t know anything for certain. We’ll only know once the killer is found. Until then, our primary goal isn’t to catch the killer but to keep Harper safe.”