Maybe Jack could give her a moment’s warning, anyway.
But Garrison caught up with him within minutes. Of course. Because Garrison was a former cop and Jack was just a fix-it guy who’d blown everything out of proportion. Who’d thought it was a good idea to run a background check on a woman he cared about. Then he’d somehow brought in a straight-arrow guy like Garrison Kopp to make everything ten times worse.
He was pretty sure he’d spend the rest of his life regretting the previous few minutes.
When he pulled up to the house, Harper was dragging Red’s suitcase to the car.
Part of Jack wished they’d wasted more time, given her a chance to get away. Jack would never have seen her again, but at least she might have remembered him with fondness.
She turned toward him. Her face held curiosity as he parked on the narrow street.
The look shifted to suspicion, then fear, as Garrison pulled in the driveway and parked a foot behind the little VW Jetta.
Jack jumped out of his truck and ran across the spotty grass toward her. “Harper, I’m so sorry.”
She glanced at him, said nothing, and focused on the others.
Garrison and Sam stepped out of the car and started toward her.
She looked behind her. Jack couldn’t blame her. Garrison was six-four, broad-shouldered, and carried himself like a cop. She had to be terrified.
Sam rushed around the car and approached Harper. “We met at the restaurant, remember?”
Harper just stared.
“I’m Samantha Kopp.” She stopped a foot from Harper.
Harper turned to Jack, who’d stopped about five feet from her. “What’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry. I tried to call earlier—”
“Harper Cloud?” Garrison stepped beside his wife. “I’m Garrison Kopp, a friend of Jack’s.”
“Friend’s a strong word,” Jack said, “all things considered.”
Garrison ignored him. “Can we go inside? I’d like to talk to you.”
Harper looked at Jack. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do this. I mean, not on purpose. I never meant—”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Garrison said.
She left the suitcase beside the car, swiveled, and marched up the steps.
Garrison and Sam followed. Jack came in and closed the door behind him. The living room was empty. He hadn’t realized before how Harper and Red had filled the place. Red’s newspaper was usually folded on the little table between the sofa and the recliner. There was almost always a glass of Gatorade or a cup of coffee there, too. In the afternoons, there’d be a small bowl of some snack. Cashews, peanuts, those gross little soy nuts. Harper’s cell phone often rested on the coffee table alongside a novel with a bookmark sticking out.
All that was gone. Jack continued into the kitchen, where Garrison and Sam pulled out chairs and sat at the table. Harper was leaning against the counter, arms folded, staring at the floor.
“Where’s Red?” Jack asked.
She didn’t look at him when she said, “I was going to pick him up on the way.”
“To where?”
She shrugged.
He stepped closer and reached for her shoulder, but she backed away. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t acknowledge the words.
Garrison cleared his throat. “Just for the sake of full disclosure,” he said, “you should know I’m a former FBI agent. But I’m not a cop right now, and I’m not here in any official capacity.” He paused, but nobody spoke. “You acted strangely at the restaurant when I walked up beside you, and then Jack showed up, and he seemed unduly concerned about telling me anything about you. I got suspicious and looked you up, then made a few phone calls. I learned some things that are really troubling.”
Still, Harper said nothing.
“The fact that you’re packing up and leaving doesn’t look good.”
She glared at the man. “Am I under arrest?”
Garrison smiled. “I’ve never actually done one of those citizen’s arrests things. Feels very Barney Fife. Of course, he was a cop, wasn’t he?”
He watched Harper, and she stared back. Finally, she said, “I don’t know who that is.”
“What?” He eyed Sam, then Jack. “Kids these days, am I right?”
When nobody answered, Sam said, “I don’t think you’re putting her at ease.”
“This is some of my best stuff,” Garrison said.
Sam chuckled and focused on Harper. “Forgive my husband. He’s trying to be funny.”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?”
Garrison blew out a long breath. “Can you please sit down and tell us what’s going on?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He shrugged. “The problem is, I know just enough to cause you a lot of trouble. But your friend here”—he nodded toward Jack, who glared at him—“seems convinced you haven’t done anything wrong. So I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Very slowly, Harper turned to face Jack. “I think you need to go.”
“I have no idea how this happened. I just went to McNeal’s to see if you were okay.”
“It’s not his fault you’re wanted,” Garrison said.
“Wanted?” Harper yanked out a chair and sat heavily.
Garrison’s amusement faded. “In connection with a murder.”
Chapter Thirty
All Harper’s searching for information had led to nothing. No news about her on the internet. No news about the two murdered men. Yet, in no time at all, this total stranger had found the information she’d sought. And now, she’d be arrested. Maybe she wouldn’t go to prison. The police couldn’t have any evidence against her. She hadn’t done it.
But she hadn’t committed the last crime, either. And she’d spent two years behind bars for that.
And that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst had to do with the man in the doorway and the fact that she’d hoped, deep down, that maybe this time would be different. Maybe this man could be different.
She’d been a fool.
Despite the fact that she’d ordered him out, Jack was still there, eyes pleading. And what did that mean? That he cared about her? Fat chance.
Maybe it was like when a person watched a horror flick and wanted to see how it ended. Would Harper be led away in handcuffs? Would a judge toss her in prison and throw away the key? Stay tuned…
“What I found concerned me,” the ex-cop, Garrison, continued. “Seems you’re wanted in connection with a homicide.”
Her hands rose as if on their own, palms out. “I swear, I didn’t kill those men. I couldn’t… I don’t even own a gun.”
“If you didn’t do it”—the man’s words were casual, measured—“then how do you know there was more than one victim? And how do you know they’d been shot? And how do you know they were both men?”
Stupid. She was so stupid.
She should ask for an attorney. This guy wasn’t a cop, but still…
“Maybe just start at the beginning,” the cop said.
Former cop. No, former FBI agent, who’d introduced himself as Garrison. And brought his wife. Which was weird if they were going to haul her off to jail. Who took his wife for that kind of deed? Pregnant wife, if Harper weren’t mistaken.
The woman reached out, settled her hand over Harper’s. “I think you’re going to have to trust somebody.”
“And it should be you two? Why?” And how? How to trust anybody when everybody she’d cared about had betrayed her. Everybody but the old man she’d done all this for.
She’d thought Jack might be the exception.
She should order him out, and this time, make sure he left. Because somehow, he’d gotten these people involved. He acted like it was an accident, but that made no sense at all. So maybe Jack had called them… Except she’d seen these two at the restaurant earlier.
Oh, she had no idea. And s
he couldn’t order Jack out, because when she was in custody, she’d need him to take care of Red for her. So he needed to know what was going on.
Fine. She nodded to the fourth chair.
“You sure?” he asked.
“You wouldn’t want to miss the best part.”
He sat beside her and reached for her hand. She yanked it back. “Don’t touch me.”
She didn’t miss the hurt in his eyes and didn’t feel the least bit sorry.
With her focus on the table in front of her, she let the truth settle. This was her fault. Her fault for trusting Derrick. Her fault for believing things could be better. Her fault for running when she should have stayed to face the music.
Except… she still didn’t know how she could have turned herself in and protected Red.
Garrison cleared his throat. “You were living in Maryland?”
She took a deep breath and met the man’s eyes. He had kind eyes. His wife seemed tenderhearted. She’d always been nice to Harper at the restaurant. Anyway, Harper had no choice. “I was working in Las Vegas and met a guy. Derrick Burns. We started dating, sort of. Talking on the phone a lot. He lived in Baltimore, but he came out to see me sometimes. I was working at a nursing home, and he asked me to move to Maryland to take care of his grandfather. I had nothing else going on, so I agreed.”
“Let’s back up a little,” Garrison said. “You were in prison, right?”
Heat filled her cheeks. She didn’t want to look at Jack, but as if his presence were magnetized, she glanced his way. That wasn’t shock on his face. So he’d already known.
“Years ago, my boyfriend and his friend robbed a liquor store. Emmitt, my boyfriend, was carrying a gun. The owner of the liquor store reached for a shotgun, and Emmitt shot him. Killed him. I was driving the car.”
“But you turned yourself in the next day,” Garrison said.
She asked, “How did you—?”
“Talked to the detective who arrested you. He said you didn’t know about the robbery.”
”I didn’t. I had no idea. When I saw the news the next day, I realized what had happened. I went to the police and told them the truth. But I wasn’t smart enough to get a lawyer, and I believed them when they told me I wouldn’t be charged if I told them everything. They arrested Emmitt and Barry, and we all went to prison.”
“You just went for two years,” Garrison said.
“Which is still ridiculous.” Jack’s words were vehement. “She didn’t do anything.”
Garrison glanced at him and nodded. “I agree. The detective does, too. The ADA was trying to make a name for himself, and”—he focused on Harper—“you didn’t have a good lawyer to protect you. You got railroaded.”
Yes. She closed her eyes, thanked God this guy believed her.
Maybe God had brought her somebody who could help.
Maybe God really did love her. Even her. Even after everything.
“You got out,” Garrison prompted, “and then met Derrick and moved to Baltimore.”
“Not Baltimore, but Maryland, yes. I wasn’t going to, but I had this stalker back in Vegas. I think. I wasn’t sure, but then one night…” Her words trailed off. “None of that matters. The point is, I took Derrick’s offer because it was a better offer than anything else an ex-con could get, and I was afraid. Probably just paranoid.” She scoffed and shook her head. “I thought I’d be safer in Maryland.”
“Go on,” Garrison said.
“I moved in the spring. Stayed with Red.” The thought of him had her glancing at her watch. She looked at Jack. “He needs to be picked up by three.”
Jack reached into his pockets, then glared at Garrison. “Can I have my phone?”
“Right.” Garrison pulled it from his pocket and handed it over.
What was that about?
As if he’d read her mind, Jack said, “He didn’t want me warning you.” He offered a half smile, then stepped into the living room and dialed.
She listened while he spoke to someone. She kept her gaze on the table. Garrison and Sam didn’t say anything. The kitchen was thick with tension, but nobody tried to cut it.
A moment later, Jack stepped back in. “Steve’s daughter is going to take them both back to her house. He’ll be fine.”
“Thank you.” Harper focused on Garrison again. “Derrick, my newer ex-boyfriend, is a gambling addict. Because I have terrible taste in men.” She resisted the urge to glance at Jack. “I didn’t know about the addiction. If I had, I would never have gotten involved with him. I found out this summer that he owes a lot of money. We were at a party, and a guy who was there, Keith Williams…”
She waited for a reaction from Garrison to the name, but his face was unreadable.
“Anyway, Keith was leaning on Derrick pretty hard. I didn’t know what about—I just saw them arguing. But later, Derrick told me Keith was working for his loan shark.”
Garrison nodded. Jack started to speak, but Garrison shut him down with a look.
“A week later,” she continued, “I overheard Derrick trying to swindle Red out of money. He was asking for two hundred thousand dollars. Red saw right through him and refused.”
“Good for him,” Jack said.
Neither Garrison nor Sam responded.
“We didn’t see Derrick again. He kept his distance, and he and I only talked when I had something to tell him about his grandfather. A month or so ago, Red started really going downhill. Forgetting things, getting angry. Then, it got worse. Headaches, throwing up. Almost as if he’d been drinking. He doesn’t drink, so it wasn’t that. I called the doctor, and they said it sounded like a virus. I was willing to accept that, but the slurred words, the swaying… I started to fear he’d had a stroke, but nothing else indicated that. I went to get him a fresh bottle of Gatorade one afternoon, and I realized the top had already been opened. I stored them in the garage, and I knew Red wouldn’t have gone out there and opened them. I started to get suspicious.”
Jack said, “But what does this have to do—?”
“Let her finish.” Garrison nodded to her.
She forced a fortifying breath. “I didn’t know what it meant, but at that moment, I was more worried about Red than anything else. I decided to run to the grocery store real quick and get him more Gatorade, because he balks if he has to drink anything else, and he needed to stay hydrated. I went to the store.” Her voice started to shake with the memories. She wiped sweaty hands on her jeans. “When I got back to my car…” She swallowed. The fear had her voice rising. She couldn’t stop the emotions. She couldn’t stop the trembling as she remembered that moment.
Jack took her hand, and she met his eyes. She saw kindness there. Tenderness. Trust.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
She held on anyway. “There were two men. One was behind me, so I didn’t see him. He held me still. The other wore a mask. He had a knife.” She rubbed the healed cut on her neck automatically. “They hurt me.” Tears streamed from her eyes as she related the incident. Somehow, she found herself leaning into Jack. His hand gripped her shoulder, her cheek pressed to his chest. She inhaled his rugged scent. If only… But the thought died when Garrison spoke.
“You’re saying they walked away?”
She pushed away from Jack and sat up straight. Sam pulled a tissue from her purse, which Harper grabbed to wipe her eyes. “They loaded the Gatorade in the trunk and then walked away.”
“Did you call the police?” Garrison asked.
She shook her head. “I had to get back to Red. I’d been gone too long, and he was so sick. What were the police going to do? I didn’t see the men’s faces. I didn’t know what kind of car they drove. I had no information, no evidence.”
“A cut on your neck, bruises all over your body.” Garrison’s eyebrows rose. “Seems evidence enough.”
“If I’d known… I didn’t know what was going to happen. I didn’t see the point. I just had to get back to Red.”
The
kindness she’d seen in Garrison’s face morphed to suspicion. “The point would have been to find the guys who’d beaten you up.”
She glared at the man. “I’m a felon. An ex-con. Why would the cops care?”
His suspicion didn’t fade a bit. “So you just walked away? That was it?”
“I hid the bruises and took care of Red. I did my job. At that moment, I was more worried about him than anything. I called Derrick, and he came up. I told him what happened and the message they’d given me for him.”
“‘Tell him we stopped by,’” Garrison clarified from the story she’d just told.
“Right.”
“And then what happened?”
“Derrick left. I got Red to bed and took a shower. When I got out, I heard something.”
Garrison said, “Define ‘something.’”
“It sounded like a door closing. So I went to investigate. And I found…” She swallowed the bile in her throat. “I found two men dead on the floor in the living room.”
Garrison sat up straighter. “Just like that? They were there?”
She nodded, unsure what to say next.
“How’d they die?” Garrison asked.
“They’d been shot.”
“The old man was in bed?”
“No. He’d heard the noise. He was standing there, staring at them.”
Garrison tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think he—”
“Absolutely not. There was no gun. And he might’ve been able to get off one round, but how would he have shot them both? And anyway, there was no blood on the floor. They hadn’t been shot there. They’d been left there.”
“Why would somebody do that?” Garrison asked.
“To frame me. I mean, that’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything!” She stopped, forced a few deep breaths. Her voice was hysterical, and the higher the pitch, the less credible she sounded.
Jack pulled Harper’s hand into his again. Sam patted her shoulder.
“So you left them there?” Garrison’s eyebrows were hiked to his hairline.
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