Another jolt through Harper’s body made him fall silent. He felt the little shifter inside her moving around in swift little jerks, like a little bird trying to flap around in a cage. His breath caught and he laughed, then gasped, then fell silent.
He looked up at Harper’s face. “I felt it. I felt it move. Oh, sweetheart,” he stood and kissed her. “It’s really happening. We’re going to be parents soon!”
“Then let’s get on this mystery. Okay, here are the high points.”
She gave him an abbreviated version of the talk she’d had with Alex, only filling in details that were absolutely necessary. He listened without interrupting, doing his best to keep the whole story straight.
“So,” she said at the end, “it’s possible a relative of mine, or at least someone who wants the Bachmanns in power, is behind the whole alcohol scheme. I have a feeling that it connects to Marcus somehow, but I can’t be sure. It’s just a hunch.”
“You have good hunches. Let’s follow this one.” They started to walk and then realized they weren’t sure where they were headed.
“Where are we going?” Harper asked, her head a little fuzzy from the strain of the long day.
“We should go…” Grey thought about it, replaying the morning’s events, the new information, trying to think of somewhere that might be helpful. “To Marcus’ secret spot. You remember you said you smelled rotting food there?”
“Yes! Fruit. He had a pile of rotted fruit as if he’d been saving it. But maybe…” She drifted off and shook her head. “Come on, brain. Help a lady out. Okay, he had fruit. He had a friend who knew about the bar. The alcohol is made from fruit skins. Someone felt they had to kill him…”
The two fell silent as they walked again, certain that they were just touching on the tip of the solution. The clues and tidbits of information felt as if they were swirling around their heads, almost settling into a clear narrative, but not quite. There were blank spaces, pieces out of place. All they needed was the connection.
Harper and Grey made their way back into the familiar part of the forest, both of their faces screwed up in concentration as they went. No one said hello to them this time; their expressions and air of tension made them less than approachable. Harper looked up and saw Emily, the boar, looking down at them. She waved, but Emily didn’t wave back, just disappeared back into her house.
If they were under Emily’s tree, it meant they were nearly at the little enclave behind the bushes. Grey shifted into bird form and flew off to find it. Once he’d spotted the clear circle, he flapped his way back over to Harper, and she followed him. His internal guide helped him zero in on the spot without any hesitation, and she was able to use her more familiar, human vision to tag along.
Once they were in the open circle, Grey shifted back. They looked around, trying to see if Marcus had left them any other piece of information. Harper thought back to the drawing of the monster. She had written it off as pure fantasy, but maybe Marcus had seen something.
“Grey,” she asked with hesitation, “did you see anything that wasn’t real while you were drunk on that clear stuff? Any magical creatures, that sort of thing?”
He considered the question, then remembered the wall. “I saw a wall dance. I remember someone yelling about the magic of the liquor. If I saw anything else, I don’t recall. Why?”
She looked at the rotted fruit again. It wasn’t randomly thrown into a spot. The pieces were stacked up on top of one another, and the edges of the food was crushed. It had been in a container.
“Help me look for any kind of bowl or box. I think this fruit got dumped out of something.”
Grey started to ask why, but held the question back. It was clear to him that Harper had deduced something, and they had no time to waste.
The two opened the tiny trees around the space, wandering out beyond the little circle. The ground was a bit swampy but they could still stand without any problem. As they walked out further, Grey felt something jab at his toes.
“Ow!”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just a…” he looked and saw that it was a broken piece of wood. Not a log or a branch, but wood that had been formed into something. A splinter of the stuff was in the tip of his toe. He looked around and found more pieces as well as a metal ring. Two metal rings.
“Harper! Harper, I found your container.”
She ran over, and he had to stop her a few feet away from the mess so that she didn’t get a splinter herself. Grey shifted back to bird form and took in the view from a few feet up. It was clear: someone had dumped out a barrel full of fruit and then smashed it on the ground. He turned and looked beyond the swampy part of the earth and saw something else: a large, metal structure with two men standing outside of it. They didn’t see him, but he zeroed in on one of them.
With his bird vision, Grey watched the man as his wings beat the air and carried him in a circle. He passed over Harper’s head several times, not responding to her calls. He made one final pass and confirmed what he had thought the first time.
The man outside of the odd building looked just like President Bachmann.
He made his way back into the forest, Harper struggling to keep up. He shifted back to human form and stood with a hand on a nearby tree to steady himself. His knees buckled a little under him, and his stomach lurched. Had he really just seen the person he thought he saw? No. It couldn’t be. Harper herself had seen him killed.
“Hey! What happened?” Harper was out of breath and had to stop and gasp for a moment at the same tree. “Did you see something?”
He nodded and straightened up. “I did. I saw that someone had broken a big, wooden barrel. The old-fashioned kind people used to store things in. The president kept wine in his in a special basement.”
“I knew it,” Harper said, straightening up. “I think I know what happened. At least, I have a good guess.”
“Okay. tell me.”
Harper brushed her hair back out of her sweaty face and smoothed her dress down. “All right. In Marcus’ things, I found a drawing of a funny looking monster. Then there’s the blanket, which tells me that sometimes he fell asleep out here. Finally, the fruit, which was rotting. I believe that Marcus heard about the bar from his friends and got curious. He saw the men drinking and thought, I want some of that. Somehow, he got an idea of how it was made. Maybe he found the people making it by accident.” She stopped, checked Grey’s face. He was with her so far.
“So, most likely after a few failed attempts, he figures out how to make the stuff. I’m guessing he either found or stole that barrel. Whomever was in charge of the stuff didn’t want some kid knowing how to make it – if he could figure it out, anyone could. Then, the people who want all this money, who want us all killing each other over it don’t have an advantage. So,” she paused, swallowing, “they took care of the problem.”
Grey and Harper looked at one another without speaking, each imagining the events that could have led up to Marcus’ death. Harper put a hand on her abdomen, and Grey pulled her in for a tight hug.
“I think I know who he found,” he whispered. He kissed her and held her tight, feeling their unborn child moving in the tiny space between them.
Chapter Nine
Family
Harper and Grey did not move straight into the next phase of their investigation. They were too shaken to face whomever it was that was distilling this incredible alcohol. Instead, they went back to Harper’s house and sat out on the porch, watching the sunset.
“Here,” Grey said, handing her a cup. “You should keep hydrated.”
“So should you,” she countered, sipping gratefully. She was thirsty. He joined her in a second round, and the two stared at the pink and purple sky without speaking. As the sun began to sink, Harper reached across the space between their chairs and squeezed Grey’s hand. The sun went down, down, down until the space behind it was a deep purple that gradually faded into black. On any other day, the sunset
would have calmed her, made her feel lucky to be in the forest. That day, she saw it as an omen – a sign that her beautiful days filled with light were coming to an end.
“Grey,” she said softly, not looking at him, “are you scared?”
“I am,” he said in his strong voice. “But I’m scared because I don’t know what’s happening. And I don’t like not knowing. I’ve always taken care of everyone, but I do that because it helps me control the world around me. I like to know that I know what’s what. When things are beyond me, I get paralyzed with fear.”
She nodded. She patted his hand and stood to go inside.
Grey didn’t follow her. Instead, he watched the stars appear here and there. They didn’t poke out until his eyes looked away. Then they would drift back to where they had been looking just a moment ago and there would be a new star. Then another and another. Unlike everything else, the stars had not changed. Their glow was no different than it had been when he was a small boy. It reassured him to see them, the unchanging stars. It told him that people through many ages had seen the same little points in the sky that he was seeing now. These things were eternal.
He finished his water and gathered up the cups. He went in and found Harper at the table, staring at the mementos Marcus had left behind. She had a hardened, determined stare on her face.
“We have to go and talk to his mom. She’ll be able to tell me if my theory holds any weight.”
“Okay.” Grey put a hand on Harper’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss her. The feel of his lips on her hair made her close her eyes a moment.
“Then,” she continued, “you need to help me find where that alcohol is being produced.”
He grimaced, realizing he had failed to tell her that part of the story. “I saw it. Today, when I was flying. I saw a still in the distance.”
She turned and stared at him. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Harper, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
She nodded. “Yes, you absolutely should have. Why didn’t you?”
He gulped and tried to think of the best way to break the news to her. However, there was no alternative to the option he had: say it and let her hear it. The truth was unavoidable in this case; he couldn’t protect her from any of it.
“I didn’t tell you because…” He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his teeth together. She waited. “Because the man I saw outside the still, he looked just like your dad.”
Silence. When Grey looked at Harper’s face, he saw the muscles behind her skin slowly lose their shape. Soon, she had gone slack, her mouth open slightly, her neck bent forward. He reached out to touch her, but her arm shot out to slap his hand away. It did so as if the movement were automatic, like Harper had no idea what her arm had done. She started to breathe faster and then to shake.
“Harper, breathe, honey. You have to stay calm.”
She looked him the eye and opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. He paused, wanting to give her a chance to speak, but all she could do was gasp for air. He tried to comfort her, but she shoved him away, ran outside, and puked off the side of her porch.
Grey stayed inside, wanting to give her a moment to collect herself. He heard her vomit again and flinched at pause between her release and the time it took for the acidic fluid to hit the ground. She hadn’t been too sick during the pregnancy, but with everything going on, it could easily start now. Stress and pregnancy really didn’t mix.
She came back, white with illness and exhaustion. He took her hand and led her to the side of the bed and encouraged her to sit. “Please, sweetheart, you’re going to faint.”
He sat her on the bed and got her some water as well as her toothbrush and a bowl of extra water to help her get ready for bed. As meek as a small child, she let him brush her teeth, undress her, and lie her down. He kneeled next to her and kissed her forehead. “It’s all right, darling. Just rest. All this strain isn’t good for our little bird. We have to keep her safe.”
In a small, almost young voice, Harper asked, “Her?”
Grey laughed at himself. “I don’t know why I said that. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl, do we? But,” he went on, smoothing her hair back from her brow, “I hope it’s a girl. Because I want a baby that’s just like you, Harper.”
She gave him a weak smile, and he kissed her lightly on her dry, pale lips. “Get some sleep, hon. I’ll go to Marcus’ in the morning and then to the still. You just get better.”
She closed her eyes and took a breath. In a moment, a little snore was coming from deep within her chest. He let out the breath he had been inadvertently holding and collapsed onto the floor next to her. He felt his own exhaustion catch up with him and decided it was time he got some sleep as well.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and slipped off his shirt so he could sleep. Just as his eyes were closing, he felt Harper turn and face him. He reached out for her and felt her arm in the darkness.
“If you think you’re going without me, you don’t know me at all,” he heard her mumble in the darkness.
Too tired to argue, he just whispered back, “Yes, dear.”
When his eyes blinked open the next morning, he was shocked to see an empty bed next to him. He sat up with a jolt to find Harper showered, dressed, and eating breakfast at the table.
“Get up, lazy bones,” she teased. “We have a lot of work to do today.”
He quickly caught up to her, happy to find her fruit and vegetable salad on the table. She had captured a few juicy flies that were buzzing around a clean jar upside down on the table, and he expertly let one escape and then bit it out of the air. She laughed at the sight of him chomping away at the space in front of him.
“You really are just a big kid.”
“That’s why I’ll be such a great father,” he countered, hand to his chest. “Think how much fun our little one will have with her goofy, immature father.” He grabbed two more bugs from the jar and popped them into his mouth then chowed down on his salad, offering Harper the final fly. “For you, my love.”
“Oh, so romantic.” She let the fly drift out of its glass prison and watched it go. Grey raised an eyebrow. What was this?
After waiting a long moment and letting it bumble around the table, her hand shot out to the side to grab it by the shiny wings. The bug danced around in her hand, unable to escape. She kept her eyes on Grey as she slowly brought her prey to her face, then dropped her head back and lowered it into her mouth.
When she came back up, he was applauding. “Very fancy! I like it. Where’d you learn how to do that?”
She shrugged. “I avoided eating bugs for a long time. It wasn’t until I saw people having fun with the catching part that I got on board. Once I tried teaching myself some little tricks with them, they stopped being so gross.”
The two ate up and drank their tea, then packed Marcus’ things and some extra fruit into a backpack. They walked out onto the porch to find the forest in full swing – kids playing, neighbors gossiping on porches, and workers repairing this and that on different trees. They took the lift down, sad to leave such a pleasant scene, but also incredibly excited. Today could be the day they found their murderer.
They walked to see Marcus’ mother, Dahlia. Harper wasn’t sure exactly where she lived, but she felt certain that if they asked around they could narrow down their options at least. They headed toward Marcus’ burial site and then started asking anyone they passed as they neared the spot where his body was just starting the early stages of decay. A few people squinted up into the trees, uncertain which one contained the dead boy’s family, but others were sure.
“That big, old guy just there. They’ve got a bell on their lift. Just pull the red rope, and they’ll pull you up.”
They thanked everyone and approached the tree together. Harper tugged the red cord and sure enough, a little bell tinkled in the tree. Its soft sound was accompanied by loud, raucous yells.
“Ma! Someone�
��s on the lift! People, Ma! Ma, who is it? What do I do? Do I bring them up?” Little heads looked over side and even smaller hands waved down.
“Who is it? Who are you? Who’s here?”
Harper put a hand to shade her eyes as she stared up into the sunlight. The four children staring down at her quickly made the same gesture and giggled.
“Tell your mother it’s her friend, Harper,” she yelled up.
“Ma! It’s a friend of yours! A lady named Harder!”
The mistake got a suppressed giggle out of Grey, and Harper elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you dare start calling me that.”
He pulled an innocent face. “Me? Never! You know I’m always very serious.”
The kids waved them onto the lift, and they stood side by side so they could hold the safety bars on either side. They went up in hard, sudden lurches as the children fought and screamed for control of the pulley that brought them into the tree branches. Harper felt the vomit start to rise up again and mentally fought it down. Not now. Not now.
“You okay?” Grey asked between jolts. She nodded but had to cover her mouth almost immediately.
“It’s all right if you puke,” he assured her. “I might join you.”
At long last, they made it to the top. Dizzy from the journey and a bit startled to feel solid ground beneath them, the two took a moment on the porch to gather themselves. The children, so bold when they were mere dots on the ground, had become timid at the sight of their visitor up close. Small heads peeked around the door, and hissed whispers reached Grey and Harper as they stood quietly.
“All of you,” Dahlia’s voice commanded, “get inside. That table is a mess, and I need every child of mine cleaning it up right now.”
She moved to the door but found her young ones still very much distracted. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat. Time to get moving.
One by one, the four tiny ones looked up at their mother and then moved away from the show on the porch, sighing a little as they went. If only the table could clean itself. Once the tiny battalion was out of the way, Grey and Harper could move to the door. Dahlia greeted Harper with a big smile.
Briar on Bruins' Peak (Bruins' Peak Bears Book 7) Page 59