Always Look Twice

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Always Look Twice Page 8

by Elizabeth Goddard


  Movement in the camper let him know someone was home.

  The door cracked open. “Yes?”

  It wasn’t Harper. Her sister? “My name is Heath McKade. I’m here to see Harper.” He still hid the package behind his back.

  “She’s sleeping.”

  The door was opened enough for Harper to peer over the woman’s shoulder. “Heath? What are you doing here?”

  “Is that how you’re going to greet me every time you see me?” As if there would be more times.

  “Are you here on sheriff business?”

  “No. I’m here as an old friend stopping by to see how you’re doing.”

  She opened the door wide. “Come on in.”

  He took three steps up into the cool air of the beautifully renovated camper. Wood floors, fresh cream-colored paint, modern cabinets and amenities, along with travel-themed decor. A Scripture plaque with a Bible verse hung on the wall as well. “The name of the LORD is a strong tower; The righteous runs into it and is safe. Proverbs 18:10.”

  “This is my sister. Emily, you remember Heath McKade. He’s the man who found and rescued me, on his big stallion no less.” Harper’s eyes flicked to the package he’d given up on hiding until the right moment, then back to his face. Her smile was warm but not as brilliant as he’d seen in the past. Her laugh from years ago suddenly echoed in his head.

  “I remember you.” Emily smiled and pushed a strand of her bobbed brown hair behind her ears. “You’re all grown up now though. Are you married?”

  “Emily!” Harper glared at her sister.

  “I’m not married.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. But he wasn’t flirting. Or was he? “Did she tell you that she saved me from a bear?”

  Emily, who he remembered was about three years older than Harper, admired him from head to toe. He wasn’t sure he appreciated her open approval. “She might have mentioned you. Something about saving a guy wearing a cowboy hat.”

  “Oh, yep.” Heath removed his hat and scraped his hand through his hat hair. “Pardon my manners.”

  Emily smiled. “You can keep the hat on if you like.”

  “My hair’s that bad, huh?”

  “It’s not bad, no.” Emily winked. “Of course I remember you, Heath. Make yourself at home. Looks like you came bearing gifts.”

  He wasn’t ready to unveil that yet and shoved the package behind him. I’m an idiot. He needed to redirect the conversation and turned his attention to the renovated camper. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You like the place?” Emily asked. “I got it for a steal. I spent, what, two years on the inside.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Emily moved to the kitchen. “Something to drink?”

  Harper grabbed her sister’s arm. “Can you take a walk around the campground and give me a few minutes, please?”

  Emily chuckled. “Oh, I get it.”

  Harper whispered something in her ear, then pushed her sister gently out the door. Emily waved with a knowing smile. Heath wasn’t exactly sure what Emily thought she knew, except he got the feeling she might have been flirting with him. Maybe she thought Harper had claimed him. What had he gotten himself into? He felt ridiculous now, considering his purchase. He could be over-the-top sometimes.

  He returned his attention to Harper. Though she was tan and healthy like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, her face had a pale shade to it due to her injury. Still, she was beautiful. Strong. Intelligent. Everything good he knew of the girl she had been bloomed in the woman she was now.

  Her cheeks colored. Had he been staring? He’d done more than that. He’d been admiring her.

  He cleared his throat. Gestured to her stitches. “When do you get those out?”

  She reached up and gently touched the injury. “Oh, these old things? In a few days or so. Then I’ll have to deal with a scar, though Dr. Jacob assured me it would be minimal. Emily says I can get bangs to cover it if it’s too bad.”

  The way she plopped into the plush chair, he thought she might cry. “It won’t be that bad. You have beautiful hair, and your sister’s right. If needed, you could easily cover it right up with bangs. But it won’t change how beautiful you are.” Just stop talking, Heath.

  Her golden amber eyes stared at him. “I know you didn’t come here to tell me that I’m . . . That my scar won’t be that bad.”

  No, he hadn’t. He let his gaze roam the camper. “Mind if I sit down?”

  “Please do. I should have offered.”

  He cleared his throat. “So, um . . . how are you doing? Really?”

  “I have a headache. I haven’t taken the painkillers in case Sheriff Taggart needs something from me. I don’t want him to accuse me of being overmedicated.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Nor have I called to schedule an appointment with the doctor like he asked.”

  Heath didn’t want to talk about all that. He toyed with the rim of his hat. Might as well get to the reason for his visit. Or at least one of the reasons he’d come other than he wanted to see her and make sure she was all right. He handed her the package. “This is for you.”

  Her eyes flashed with wariness. Not the reaction he’d hoped for.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you open it and find out?” Too late for him to back out now. Heath McKade, what were you thinking?

  She reached for the package, then held it as if trying to guess what was inside. But she didn’t open it. “Heath, I don’t understand what you’re doing here. You don’t owe me anything, certainly not . . .” Curiosity must have gotten the best of her, because she ripped it open. Her eyes widened and she gasped. Now that was the kind of reaction he’d been going for.

  “A camera?” She held on to it like she treasured it, then suddenly thrust it toward him. “And not any camera. Thank you, but I can’t accept this. I know how much it costs. It’s too expensive.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t know what would have happened. I didn’t react like I had always imagined I would if I ever encountered a grizzly.” Heath refused the package, leaned forward, and clasped his hands. “Look, I know it might seem over-the-top, but you lost your camera. You were hurt. Got stitches. Witnessed a murder, so I . . .”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was soft and accepting. “I shouldn’t accept it, but—” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she kept them at bay. She moved from the chair and pecked his cheek, then sat back down. A blush rose in hers again. “I don’t know what to say.” She stared at the camera as if she were second-guessing her decision to keep it.

  “You might as well keep it. I can’t return it. I lost the receipt.” Somewhere in the cab of his truck. “Besides, I have a ginormous telephoto lens in the truck to go with it.” Maybe a tripod, but he wouldn’t tell her that yet. He hadn’t known what he was doing in picking out the camera equipment, but the guy at the camera shop had been happy to help Heath empty his bank account.

  “I’m surprised you were able to find this.”

  “Oh, come on, this is tourist country. People bring high-powered cameras to capture the scenery that’s unlike anywhere else on earth. That and the wildlife. They forget their cameras or lose them or break them, and then they go buy another one in one of the many shops in Jackson or Grayback.”

  “The most expensive place in the world to buy them,” she said.

  Um, yeah.

  Harper opened the box and pulled out the camera. She removed the lens cap, and before he could stop her, she snapped a picture of him. “Now, wait a minute.”

  She laughed. He loved the sound—he’d made her happy and that warmed his heart.

  “I’m surprised it had enough charge to do that. This is great. Maybe I can go back out there and look for evidence myself, though now that rain, the buffalo, and too many humans probably completely destroyed it, that would be a waste of my time. T
here must be something else I can do.”

  “You don’t need to investigate, Harper. Let law enforcement do their job.” Heath had a feeling where this conversation was leading, so he directed it to his other reason for coming. “Back at the river you said something that has been bothering me. You told me that you’re always the survivor. What did you mean by that?”

  Her incredulous laugh caught him off guard. “And here I thought I’d gotten out of telling you.”

  “My apologies. I’m overstepping. You don’t have to tell me.”

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t like to talk about it. And why, now, do I find myself wanting to share it all with you? Maybe because I haven’t seen my therapist in a good, long while. You have that quality about you, Heath, you know that?”

  “What? Now don’t call me a therapist.” She was the one with that quality. She had been there for him after his mother’s death. A death he felt responsible for. And Harper had been only a child at that time.

  “Since you believe me, or at least you told me you do, maybe you deserve to know who it is that you’re believing. So I’ll tell you, Heath McKade. Seeing so many gruesome and violent crimes had started to weigh on me. Then I took photographs of a scene that reminded me of what I’d been through as a kid when my dad was murdered, of how I hid away instead of being the witness he needed. I started having nightmares. Flashbacks. I was out of sorts. I saw the department therapist. I guess my past traumatic experience made what I was going through that much worse. He told me I was experiencing homicide survivor’s guilt. That unresolved past loss had triggered grief and depression.” Harper shook her head as though disappointed in herself and looked at him. “I guess I haven’t resolved my past. I needed emotional healing, so he suggested I take time off. Take nature pictures. Well, here I am. See what happened?”

  After hearing the guilt and shame in her tone, Heath hung his head. “You’re a survivor, Harper. That’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “So I’ve been told by my other therapist. The last thing I want to do is to make it all about me.”

  Great. He wasn’t making any headway. “You didn’t look away this time. You took those pictures. You looked at the killer. You watched him . . .” Commit the murder.

  “A lot of good it did. I couldn’t do anything to help her. I took pictures and lost them. But she’s still dead. He’s still out there somewhere and might get away with murder.”

  “I understand what you’re going through.”

  “How can you understand?”

  “I’ve been through some bad things too, remember?” Heath couldn’t bring himself to relive what had happened. This wasn’t about him, and he didn’t want her to feel his pain all over again when she had so much of her own. “And I do understand that even in taking those pictures, witnessing a woman’s murder, somehow you feel guilty about surviving. About being the one to walk away.”

  Harper covered her face. Oh no. Had he upset her? She dropped her hands, her expression somber, transparent. “I was wrong. You do understand.”

  He held her gaze and felt that connection with her again. He hadn’t come here to find a way into her life. He’d been trying to help. If only he wasn’t always driven to fix what was broken, as if he actually could. Because at the same time, he wanted to protect himself and others from what happened when he tried and failed.

  He couldn’t have it both ways.

  Too late. He admitted he shouldn’t have come back to talk to Harper. But he’d justified his actions easily enough. Oh yeah. He had justified his actions all the way to the camera store, where he’d gone overboard with his need for a reason to see her. He wanted to give back somehow. He hadn’t been given the chance to help her through her father’s murder.

  Why had he thought he should be the one to give Harper solace? “I should probably get going.”

  Hurt flashed over her features and then it was gone. She took his hat and tucked it back on his head. She was close enough that he thought she might give him another peck, but she backed away. “Thanks for coming by, Heath.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She shrugged. “If the sheriff isn’t going to take me seriously, then I will have to figure this out on my own.”

  “I don’t want you doing that, Harper. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have any say in it, even if you did get me a new camera.”

  She was right. She didn’t owe him a say in her life. He hadn’t really owed her anything—they had saved each other. “I’ll get the rest of the equipment from the truck.”

  If only Heath could believe the danger was over.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Harper peeked through the mini blinds to watch Heath the Cowboy march to his big truck with dual wheels in the back.

  His jeans and shirt fit nicely. He hadn’t smelled of horses like he had at the river. Instead, she’d caught the scent of soap and musky cologne. He’d been clean-shaven as well. While those scents lingered in the camper, she closed her eyes and drew them in. Broad-shouldered and thoughtful, he filled her mind. His goodness filtered through to a part of her heart, though she had tried to guard it.

  She knew to always steer clear of letting herself grow attached. She was much too shattered, too broken already, and couldn’t afford to risk losing someone. Besides, Heath was loyal and trustworthy, and he deserved someone he could count on. Harper wasn’t that person.

  Why Heath had triggered these thoughts she wasn’t sure—except the man, this person from her past, had somehow quickly curled around her heart as though he would soften it and step right into her life.

  Why couldn’t she follow her own advice to steer clear? She’d accepted the camera, telephoto lens, and tripod. Her mother would have given her a lecture. Shame filled her.

  She thought about the reasons he’d given for getting her a new camera. An expensive new camera. She shouldn’t have accepted it. But Heath was such a good guy, and Harper had the strong sense that refusing his gift would have been the wrong thing to do. It would have hurt him. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Heath McKade.

  A big cowboy with a big heart who gave big gifts.

  She’d hurt him once before when she’d been forced to leave with only a goodbye. They’d had a bond then.

  A murder had broken it. Time and distance had sealed the break.

  Strange that a murder had brought them back together.

  And that drew her back to her question. What was the real reason Heath had given her a new camera?

  The reasons he had offered were good, but nobody was that thoughtful anymore. It couldn’t be that Heath wanted to pursue a relationship with her, could it? Sure, they’d been best friends long ago, but that couldn’t possibly translate into something romantic years later.

  Even if it could, she wasn’t staying in Wyoming. Eventually, she would go back to Missouri. If he showed up again bearing gifts, she’d have to make it clear she wasn’t interested, even if she hurt him.

  The camera rested on the small table, accusing her.

  Another glimpse through the mini blinds confirmed that he’d left. Emily was nowhere to be seen, but Harper could trust that her sister had been watching for him to leave and would be back soon. Emily had seemed especially cheerful earlier. Harper suspected that Emily was trying to lift Harper’s mood.

  And that meant Harper needed to avoid her for now. So she went to the bedroom and closed the door. She hated sleeping the day away, but she’d been through a lot and was dealing with the pain. She made sure the room was nice and dark before climbing into bed.

  Emily would have questions, and Harper didn’t have answers. She would try to persuade Harper it was time to head home as soon as the sheriff released her to go.

  But the woman . . . her eyes . . .

  God, please let him find something to corroborate my story.

  Harper couldn’t think straight. Maybe Emily was right. She’d sleep on it, then deci
de—that is, if her mind would let her rest.

  Witnessing her father’s murder had left her with flashbacks. Nightmares. Insomnia. Childhood trauma victims often dreamed about death. Like she’d told Heath—the grief of the past stood in the way of her healing.

  Hence the reason she’d snapped at her captain—on multiple occasions—and that was that. He put her on medical leave.

  But what was she supposed to do with her time? Sit home and fold in on herself? Fortunately, her therapist suggested she focus on photographing something other than crime scenes, such as nature, so she decided on national parks instead. She figured after enough time and many images later, she’d be ready to see the park closest to the place where she’d grown up—where the tragedy had occurred. So she left Yellowstone and Grand Teton for last.

  As for the old house where she and Emily had grown up, seeing that was on Emily’s list. Her sister had spent time and money renovating the old Airstream and could work from anywhere, so the pieces fell into place and off they went on an adventure. Their last stop before heading to Missouri—to see the old house—Harper could live without that.

  After all, she’d witnessed a murder there and had nightmares about the place.

  She’d been sleeping better these last few months as they traveled, but the murder across the river had fired all her insomnia neurons.

  And the guilt had reared its ugly head again.

  She rolled over and tried to get comfortable.

  “You’re a survivor, Harper. That’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Heath’s words drifted back to her.

  He was right. She should stop feeling guilty and do something this time about the murder she witnessed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  WEDNESDAY, 12:15 P.M.

  GRANITE RIDGE CAMPGROUND

  A knock came at the camper door.

  Where was Emily? Harper groused, then got out of bed to answer the door. Harper’s heart jumped.

  “Detective Moffett?”

  “Ms. Reynolds.” The detective peered up at her, all serious as usual. All official business.

 

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