by D E Dennis
“But I was going to listen to Ella’s speech and help you with—”
“Go.”
“Get out.”
“Don’t come back.”
The first pillow connected with his head and he ran, laughing as they chased him from the room. He grabbed his keys and ducked out the door, calling Hazel’s name.
She was already out of the parking space and heading for the street. She hit the brakes and a head stuck itself out of the window. “Michael?”
He jogged up to her, smiling. “The offer for brunch still stand?”
“Get in,” she said with a grin.
“THANKS,” MICHAEL SAID, putting down his spoon. “I needed this.”
Hazel peered at him over their shared bowl of ice cream. “The case not going well?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that. We have the suspects and the motives, but we don’t have the smoking gun. Short of a confession, I don’t know where we go from here.”
“Who are the suspects?”
Michael took up his spoon again, he let the act of eating the sweet, melty treat save him from answering, but Hazel didn’t let that stop her.
“Michael, come on. I told you I might be able to help. I’ve spoken with Harper a few times. She might have mentioned one of them to me.”
“She did. Your father. He’s still our main suspect, but he disappeared in the middle of the night and the police haven’t been able to find him. Have you seen him?”
She frowned, folding her arms. “Why would I have seen him, Michael? My father and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
“That’s not what I meant. I know he’s been following you and Greg around. I was just wondering if you’ve seen him since yesterday.”
Her gaze softened, hands dropping to her sides. “No, actually. Now that I think about it. I didn’t catch of glimpse of him today while I was shopping. You don’t think he left town, do you? That he is gone for good?”
“He might be,” he said gravely. “I don’t know if you heard about Rowan Presley.”
“Oh yes, of course, I know Rowan.” A smile broke out on her face. “She saved our lives.”
“Were you close to her?”
“Not really. A few lunches here and there whenever she was free. Why?”
“Hazel, I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table and held out his hand. “But Rowan Presley passed away, the night before last.”
Hazel gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
Hazel took his hand, tears forming in her eyes. “How did she die?”
“The police say it was suicide.”
“The police say?” Her grip tightened. “You don’t agree?”
“We haven’t gotten the autopsy results, but...”
He sighed. This would be hard for her to hear. Michael hadn’t realized Hazel didn’t know. The death of Rowan Presley, the reclusive owner of the multimillion-dollar candy company, had made last night’s evening news.
“Yes,” he finished. “We believe she was killed. We spoke to her hours before her death.”
“Really,” Hazel said. She let go of his hand and dabbed at her eyes. “What did you talk about? Did she seem upset?”
He inclined his head. “We spoke about the murder of Harper Rowe. A lot of things came up that left her shaken.”
“Well, if she left in a state, why are you convinced it wasn’t suicide? Was Harper a friend of hers? Maybe she couldn’t get past her grief and out there alone and cut off like that she doesn’t have anyone she can talk to. It all became too much.”
Michael shook his head. “That’s exactly what a crafty killer wants us to think, and we might have if it wasn’t for the evidence missing from her home. An item was mailed to her and Monica and I saw the letter for ourselves. She received it but whatever was inside it, is not in the house.”
“There could be many reasons for that,” Hazel countered. “She could have gotten rid of it herself. Burnt it or—”
Shaking his head, he said, “It wasn’t a letter. It was a flash drive. Harper Rowe’s flash drive. The one we’ve been looking for.”
“Do you know what’s on the drive?”
He sighed, scrubbing his face. “No, and now we most likely never will. The computers are useless. The flash drive is gone. We have no way of finding out what Harper discovered that got her and Rowan Presley killed.”
Hazel nodded, picking her spoon back up. “I see why you’re stuck.”
“Here’s hoping for an attack of conscience that prompts the killer to turn themselves in.”
“Don’t expect that from my father.” Her eyes were pointed down, spoon shaking in her hold. “He has no conscience.”
Michael noted the bright spots of color rising to her cheeks. We should change the subject.
“I’m sorry for bringing all this up,” he said. “How about some good news?”
It came slowly, but soon her lips stretched into a smile. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“There is a big charity ball being held in Fairy Tails tomorrow. Did you hear about it?”
She perked up, straightening. “I did actually. It’s been great for business. We’ve had a couple ballgown orders from the site.”
“Well, my sister will be performing and Ella is one of the guests of honor, so I’ll be going. I get a plus one, so if you want to see your creations in action, you should come.”
She grinned. “You’re asking me to be your date to a ball being thrown by one of the wealthiest women in Castle Rock? Michael Grimm, when you take a girl on a date, you don’t do things by halves.”
He threw his head back laughing. “So is that a yes?”
She giggled. “It’s definitely a yes.”
THAT NIGHT, MICHAEL sat up in bed. The ticking clock taunted him, telling him he should have been asleep hours ago, but sleep wasn’t as appealing these days. Only endless woods and cold gray eyes awaited him in his dreams.
Not that my mind is a better place when awake.
Michael sighed, falling back against his headboard.
It was true. Michael was stuck.
The daughter no one knew about. The husband who lied to them from the start. The man whose evil has haunted this town for twenty years.
Who killed you, Harper?
Michael kicked off the covers and trudged into his kitchen. Filling the pot, turning on the heat, and hunting for tea bags distracted him for a while, but his mind would not be turned off.
That Harper found what she was looking for was no longer in question. The fight Finley overheard proved that. She left that night intending to do what Elias Rowe couldn’t, but did she ever reach Antarr? Or did Kaiden catch up to her?
And Liam Antarr’s daughter? How could no one have known Ximena Cordova was Antarr’s daughter?
But they did, his internal voice reminded him. Elena came clean to Elias. It was all in the transcripts of the police file waiting for Harper’s source to hand it over to her.
One look at the loathing on Ximena’s face told him Liam Antarr was her biggest shame. She did not want anyone to know she was the daughter of a serial killer, but to what lengths would she go to make sure no one ever did? Would she really have stopped at a warning? With someone like Harper, so determined to reveal the truth no matter what she had to do. Ximena must have known a few computer viruses wouldn’t be enough.
Harper could always get another computer. She could grab a stage and a microphone and announce it to the world. If she really wanted to make sure Harper never told a soul about her true parentage, she would have to come up with a more permanent solution?
The kettle screeched, bringing him out of his thoughts. Chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey. Just like Samira used to make him on nights when his mind was too loud for sleep.
Michael fixed up his cup and took it back to bed. He resumed his earlier position, propped up against the headboard, staring into the dark.
Chapter Nine
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND. What did you two do all day?”
“We had some last-minute things to take care of for the ball,” Monica said. “It took longer than we thought.”
“Last-minute things,” Michael deadpanned. “By that do you mean shopping and primping?”
“I do indeed, brother dear,” she said impishly. “My hairdresser had an opening and said she could squeeze me and Ella in early. Couldn’t resist that.”
Michael took the phone from his ear for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course not,” he said, putting it back. “Tell me you guys didn’t close up early?”
“We had to. It was an emergency. She couldn’t wait until after six.”
“I think we need to talk about what constitutes an emergency. What if a potential client came by? We can’t just leave during office hours.”
“Oh no?” Her voice turned wicked. “Not even to run off with a date?”
“That— You told me to go!” he sputtered.
She laughed. “And you never came back. You know it’s important to keep office hours, Michael. What if a client had come by?”
Michael’s response was a string of unkind words that had Monica laughing harder.
“Anyway, like I was saying. We got caught up yesterday, so I never got a chance to work on the video. I’m going back to the office to finish it up. I’m not sure how long it will take me, so I’m going to have you pick up Ella.”
“That’s fine, but are you sure you have enough time?” Michael glanced at the clock. “It’s already two. What time do you have to be there?”
“Six to set up and do a sound check. I have my change of clothes with me, so I’ll go straight to the ball after this.”
He hummed in agreement. “If you cut it too close, I’ll just have to give you your present after the show.”
“A present? Really? What for?”
Michael laughed at her excitement. “It’s your first big gig. Of course, I got you a present.”
“Aww. So sweet. I guess I’ll have to keep you around.”
“Were you planning on replacing me with another older brother?”
“There have been talks.”
He guffawed. “Get off the phone and get to work. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye.”
Michael hung up and tossed his phone on the bed. He had been in the middle of ironing his suit when his sister called.
Saturday morning had dawned bright and early and Michael had been wide awake to see it. He dozed for what felt like ten minutes before waking again in the wee hours of the morning. He knew when to admit defeat.
The office was closed today so he spent the day puttering around his apartment, cleaning up and testing new recipes. In all that time, the flash of inspiration did not strike.
Setting the iron down, Michael heaved a sigh. It was like this niggle at the back of his mind. Something Monica had said about them retracing Harper’s steps and speaking to all the same people, but yet they still didn’t know what she found that sent her racing out of her house in the middle of the night, ready to deliver a justice that was twenty years overdue.
Michael knew he was missing something, but what?
MONICA PUSHED THROUGH into her office, hung her dress on the coat rack, and went straight for her computer.
Why did I leave this to the last minute?
She bit her lip, jiggling her leg as she waited for her normally fast computer to boot up. It was moving at a glacial pace.
She told her brother it wouldn’t take too long, and she hoped she was right. She couldn’t be late for her first real gig. She loved Grimm Investigations and was proud of the work she did, but singing had always been her dream.
She got her degree in musical performance. She and the Happily Ever Afters had been doing small gigs around Castle Rock since her junior year of college. She was twenty-six years old now. She was more than ready for her big break.
The welcome screen finally appeared and Monica navigated to her email. The pictures downloaded while she got into the movie maker program. She was excited to be doing this. She felt like this is what Harper would have wanted.
Monica started with Irina West. She fiddled with the effects to make the pictures of the sweet, smiling little girl appear one after the other. Then she worked with the photos of Nicholas Milton. He had quite a few. From his baby pictures and all the way through his life, the Miltons had given Harper over a hundred options and Monica took her time choosing. So much time that when she glanced at the clock, she was shocked to see it was almost four thirty.
She had to hurry. It took almost an hour to make it across town to Fairy Tails and she could not be late.
Monica stood, took down her dress, and disappeared into the bathroom. She hurried into the sparkly, tea-length, aquamarine dress she bought for the occasion. She applied her makeup with a quick, but expert hand. She looked amazing in it, and she knew it, which was why she didn’t waste time admiring herself.
Monica returned to her desk and quickly finished up with Nicholas Milton’s photos before moving on to Andrea Taylor.
Harper’s sister. Rowan’s biological child. Mrs. Engelbert’s daughter.
She wanted to make sure she did this right. Mrs. Engelbert had suffered more loss than anyone should have to endure. She was doing this for her as well as Harper and Andrea.
Monica clicked through Andrea’s pictures, a smile appearing on her face. Andrea seemed such a happy child. Smiling so widely in every shot all her teeth were on display. Looking closely, she could see the resemblance to Rowan. She had her red hair and pointed nose.
Monica clicked through the pictures, taking a few of the ones with Andrea by herself, but focusing on the photos with her and Harper together. She found one with Harper and Andrea posing on the beach, making faces at the camera. Monica immediately put that one in the video, overlaying text with their names and working the effects to make it appear and fade. Generally, a bunch of stuff that her brother knew nothing about.
Monica sighed, glancing at the clock again.
Too late for the offer for help. I just gotta pick up the pace.
She finished with that photo and pulled up the other ones, clicking a bit faster to get to more pictures of Andrea with her family.
Monica was going through when something caught her eyes, bringing her clicking to an abrupt halt. She went back a few photos and stopped. Staring at one in particular.
Leaning forward, Monica examined it, taking in the sweet little girl in the photo clutching something she had seen before.
Monica’s body went rigid. The gasp caught in her throat, not able to make its way out because she had stopped breathing altogether.
As she looked at that photo, it struck her over the head. The flash of insight that had always visited her brother, but never her. At that moment, she knew.
She knew who killed Harper Rowe.
Monica shot away from the desk, tribute video forgotten. She scrambled to get her things, heart pounding so hard she could hear it echoing in her ears.
Racing out the door, Monica threw herself into her car. She jammed her keys into the ignition and went to hit the gas when sense suddenly returned.
She couldn’t go rushing off alone. That hadn’t worked out so well for Harper Rowe.
Hesitating for only a moment longer, Monica picked up the phone and called Spencer.
Her legs jiggled as the dial tone sounded in her ear. Ringing once. Twice. Three times. Four—
“Hello, this is Spencer Gutiérrez. I can’t get to the phone right now, but—”
She let out a groan of frustration.
You beg me to talk to you and now when I call you don’t answer!
The automated voice message finally ended and Monica spoke.
“Spencer, it’s Monica. I need you to listen to me and do exactly what I say. This is extremely important. I think I know who killed Harper Rowe, but I need to be sure. If you don’t hear back from me in an hour
, I want you to send the police here.” She recited the location, then hit end.
Screeching out of the parking lot, Monica sped through the streets of Castle Rock, ready to confront a killer.
ELLA GRINNED, TOSSING him a wave. “Hey, Michael.”
He bowed deeply, sweeping his arms out. “Milady, your chariot awaits.”
As requested, Michael was on time to pick up Ella and whisk her away to her big night. Ella was paying to attend Castle Rock University through scholarships and the meager salary they could afford to give her, that didn’t leave much left over for a car.
Ella giggled, dipping into a curtsy of her own. Ella’s gown was gorgeous. Monica had steered her to a royal blue beauty with a simple off-the-shoulder bodice and ruffled skirt. They probably looked strange to the college students meandering about the campus quad, but they paid their stares no mind.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Ella said as they walked back to his car. “Did something come up with Monica?”
“Yeah. She had to finish up the tribute video, but she is going to meet us there. She won’t miss her big night.”
Ella clapped. “I can’t wait to see them play. She’s going to be incredible.”
“You ready for your speech?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Looking forward to finally hearing it. I’ve been feeling left out.”
She laughed. “It’s better this way. Now you get the full effect with the fancy people and lights and the atmosphere.”
“You’re going to be great,” he said confidently. “We just have to make one stop on the way.”
MONICA PARKED THE CAR and stepped out. She walked the familiar path up to the front door, lifted her hand to knock, and paused.
Maybe I’m wrong. Michael is the one who figures all this out. He’s got the gift for reading people. If he didn’t see it, maybe it’s because it’s not there.
You have to be sure, another voice whispered in her mind. You have to know.