by Dana Marton
Where is your father?
That was it? After ten years?
Allie jumped to her feet to give him a piece of her mind in words Calamity Jane would have been proud of, but her robe flopped open, so she snatched it together, then dropped back into the chair, channeling her righteous anger into a prizewinning glare. “Gone.”
“Where?” Broslin’s new Wonder Cop took a—threatening?—step forward, and demanded through clenched teeth, “Did he coerce you? This is not you, Allie, dammit.”
What was he talking about? She blinked at him, feeling as if she’d fallen into a daydream in a middle of a conversation, then came back out having missed key information, unable to catch up with the topic. Except they hadn’t been conversing.
“I always thought you’d make it.” The way Harper’s gaze hardened another notch made goose bumps rise on her skin.
She did not like his serious don’t-mess-with-me cop look. “Make what?”
“Get away from the life.” The undisguised disappointment in his tone made her feel guilty, and she had no idea what she should feel guilty about. He shook his head. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes flashed, and his voice acquired a bite. He drew a breath and tempered that tone. “You don’t have to play anything with me. I’ll help if I can. Just tell me where he is.”
“Are we still talking about my father? I just told you he was gone. Died last year. In prison.”
The bite was back in his tone as he shifted forward and said, “Don’t lie to me, Allie.”
“I’m not lying. Another inmate choked him to death. Lewisburg Penitentiary. You can call and check.”
Harper’s impressive body went still. “Federal prison?”
“Armed robbery.” Not that she’d meant to share that with anyone in Broslin. Damn Harper for making her.
“When?”
“Last summer. July third,” she specified, because he sounded like he would call to confirm.
The way he stood, legs braced, hands hanging loosely by his side, but his right one staying near his weapon… The way he looked at her, as if he was evaluating her, made her uneasy.
She pulled her legs under her and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Harper? What’s going on?”
He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
She froze. What the hell?
“Allyssa Bianchi, you’re under arrest for the murder of Chuck Lamm.”
Chuck Lamm. Old Man Lamm. God, she hadn’t thought of the town recluse in ages.
“Someone killed Lamm? When?” She stared as all the heat she’d acquired from the bath and the fire fled her body all over again, an icy chill surrounding her heart. She might as well have still been standing back in that snowbank.
This couldn’t be right. How on earth was she being arrested for murder?
Except, of course…
This was freaking Harper Finnegan—master jokester.
“That’s not funny!” she snapped at him, pushing to her feet at last, careful with the robe, but almost too pissed to care. She wished she had a throw pillow within range, for the idiot’s head. “Leave my keys and purse and get out. I’m too tired for this, Harper.”
He didn’t grin. His cold official expression held.
“You’ll want to get dressed,” he said, and then he turned around, which left her baffled.
“What are you doing?” Then it clicked—giving her privacy. “You are taking this stupid joke too far. You know that, right?”
“You have the right to remain silent,” he said without turning around. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“I want you to leave.” She spat the words at his wide back. “So not amused. This is so stupid.”
He made as if to turn around. “Ready?”
“No!” She grabbed for her clothes on the bed: jeans and her pink sweater. She’d only had them on for the ride, clean enough to wear again. But she would have preferred clean socks and underwear. Well, no help for that. He hadn’t brought up her suitcase.
She made do with what she had, grappling to figure out what was happening.
You’re under arrest for murder.
Had he really said that?
Her brain felt like an exploding fireworks factory. “I didn’t kill anyone. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m taking you in so you can answer some questions. Can I turn around?”
He didn’t at all sound like he was kidding.
As Allie sat on the bed, she lost her breath, then, when she regained it again, she began pulling on her boots with shaky fingers. “You can turn around. And could you please tell me, seriously, what’s going on here? I literally just got into town. You know this. You were there.”
“It’d be better for you if we don’t talk until your attorney is present.” He turned at last and closed the distance between them.
She looked up at him. “I don’t have an attorney.”
Why was he so big? He couldn’t have grown taller. She stood to put them on a more even footing, but her eyes still only came up to his chin.
“I can make some calls,” he offered. “I know a guy. Turn around, please.”
She did, and without protesting. She was that dazed.
He managed to cuff her without as much as brushing a finger against her wrist. The metal felt hard and cold, the small clicks sending shivers down Allie’s spine.
Welcome to the Twilight Zone.
Or maybe she was having a nightmare. Or maybe she’d fallen asleep in the tub, and her brain was making all this up, deprived of oxygen. She needed to wake up before she drowned.
“I’m going to have to pat you down,” Harper said behind her, disturbingly close.
Her head snapped up, alarms ringing through every cell of her body. She jerked her head around. “I don’t have anything on me. I swear.”
“It’s regulation. Just hold still for a second.”
He bent and patted her down, quickly and efficiently, spending the absolute minimum time necessary with his hands on her body. Then, without a word, he turned her back and did the same on the front, with her staring at the door, unable to look at him.
She didn’t draw a breath the whole time, felt light-headed by the time he finished and gestured toward the small mountain of buffalo fur hanging on the peg by the door.
“Want me to put that coat over your shoulders for going out?”
She couldn’t respond. She was being arrested. For real. He wouldn’t have slapped cuffs on her as a joke. She was pretty sure that was against the law.
“I’m parked up front,” he said. “Just a few steps from the front door to the car. But it’s damn cold outside.”
“Yeah, I remember.” She shook her head. “No coat.” She felt crushed enough already. She met Harper’s emotionless cop eyes and knew hers were begging. “This is a mistake.”
“We’ll talk about it when we get to the station,” he said without a hint of sympathy as he escorted her out of the room.
Thank God there were no other guests to gawk at her. But somehow, she felt as if all the glass eyes in the jars were watching.
He said, “It helps if you don’t look at them.”
“They don’t bother me,” Allie snapped, just to be contrary, but her knees were weak as she walked forward.
When she stumbled on a wrinkle in the runner, Harper caught her, his fingers tightening on her arm. He held her closer as they went down the stairs. She flipping hated Harper Finnegan.
Lucky for him that her antique rifle was in her suitcase and that she didn’t have any bullets. Otherwise, she would have been tempted to shoot him in the ass.
Shannon O’Brian stood at the bottom, her face pinched, her hands clasped in front of her. She s
hifted from foot to foot as if unsure what to do. Guests probably didn’t often get arrested in her very respectable establishment.
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, dear,” she told Allie.
Harper didn’t comment on the sentiment as he stopped in front of her, while Allie tried not to die of embarrassment. “Could you please lock her room and make sure nobody can access the key? Nobody goes in there but me.”
When Shannon silently nodded, Harper said, “Thank you, Mrs. O’Brian. I appreciate it.”
And then he marched Allie out the front door and off to jail.
Chapter Six
“Are you warm enough?” Harper turned the knob on the dashboard to crank up the heat.
“Like I’m sitting in hell with the devil.”
She didn’t bother to hide that she hated his guts. He wasn’t thrilled with her presence in Broslin either, but he’d found her and had her in custody, which was better than the alternative. He would never have lived it down if he’d given a murder suspect a ride to town, then lost her.
He glanced at the blast from the past on the back seat, then pulled into traffic. Since he’d come on official police business, he’d switched out his pickup for one of the cruisers at the PD, but he didn’t turn on the roof lights. No rush at this stage.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”
“I can’t believe I’ve barely set foot in town and I’m being blamed for something I didn’t do. It’s always just the same old bullshit, isn’t it? Turns out it’s possible to step twice into the same shit creek.”
He glanced into the rearview mirror again. He’d been working on figuring her out since he’d walked into her room and caught her unprepared, wearing nothing but a giant robe. She clearly had some weird love for oversized fuzzy clothing. That was new. He tried not to think of the tight jeans and barely there tank tops she used to wear before, clothes that had kept teenage Harper in a constant state of agitation.
Her hair was considerably longer and several shades lighter. A disguise for the job? If so, it wasn’t nearly enough. Her soul-deep brown eyes were the same, and so was her full mouth, the soft curve of her jaw…
Shit.
Freaking Allie Bianchi.
He had a boatload of questions for her, number one being How in hell have you gotten involved in murder? But he turned his attention to the frozen road. He’d question her once her attorney arrived. Everything by the book.
Yet he couldn’t stay completely silent.
“I guess half a million dollars in gold can make a lot of people do a lot of stupid things. I just wouldn’t have thought you’d be one of them.”
“What half a million dollars?”
The shock she faked was pure perfection. He might have believed her wide eyes and bewildered expression if he didn’t know her for a consummate actress. Smart thing to do was to view all their interactions as a performance on her part.
“I don’t know anything about any money.” She switched to frustration with ease. “And I didn’t kill anyone. Dammit, Harper. Why would you say that? You know me. Why are you doing this?”
Her panicked tone was pitch-perfect and touched something inside him. Better if they stopped talking.
He made himself focus on the half-empty road, only a handful of other vehicles out in this weather, although less than an inch of white slush covered the asphalt. Eddie must have been through again with the big plow in the last half hour.
“Did you have dinner?” An official police question, something Harper needed to know if he ended up putting her into lockdown for the night.
“Yes. Thank you.” She managed polite, but was visibly struggling. “I saw your mom and your brother Kennan at the pub. I did put my dinner on your tab. I left my purse in your pickup. I’ll pay you back.”
Harper didn’t care about the money, but he silently cursed at the thought of Allie telling his mother he was paying for her. It’d be a while before he heard the end of that.
Not Allie’s fault, to be fair. He had told her to do it, when he’d thought she was “Abby.” He wasn’t going to blame her for that one, but he would blame her for the rest, and hold her accountable. She’d come into his town and shot a man, or at the very least, participated in his murder.
“Could you tell me at least a little about what’s going on?” Her voice trembled, affecting him more than it should have, especially since he knew it was nothing but an act.
“Let’s wait for the lawyer,” he said again, the safest thing he could tell her, the only thing that should be coming out of his mouth at this stage.
He had to stay sharp with her—no special treatment, no allowances. Their past would have to remain in the past, or the captain would have his ass. Harper drove the rest of the way to the station in silence.
Because the temperature had dropped even lower, he pulled off his hat and tugged it over her damp hair, then he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it over Allie’s shoulders before he led her up the walk, keeping on her right to block the wind.
Leila looked up from behind the reception desk, raising an eyebrow as they passed through the station on their way to the interview room. Harper just shook his head. Later.
Then he was in the room with Allie, the door closed behind them.
“I’m going to need your clothes and boots for lab testing. I’ll bring you something else to wear.” He pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll be picking up what you left at the B and B. Coat, hat, scarf, gloves. Those will be tested too. Is everything there? You wouldn’t have thrown anything away, right? I noticed you weren’t wearing gloves when I found you in the snow.”
“I left them at Suntown Elementary. I’m sure somebody found them. You can call and check.”
He would. “I’ll see if I can get that lawyer in here for you tonight. All right?” He watched her for a second, too damn disappointed and angry that she would end up like this. Too damn sad. He’d expected better from her. Then again, if he got a dollar every time he brought in someone who’d failed their potential, he could retire. “I’m going to step out for a minute. The door is on autolock. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He swung by the front desk.
Broslin PD was too small to have a dispatcher on duty twenty-four seven. Two women, Leila and Robin, shared shifts—acting both as dispatchers and general admin support for the station. The front desk was manned—womaned?—for the full first shift and half of a second.
Harper glanced at the clock on the wall. “Your shift ended a couple of hours ago.”
“I figured I’d stay until things were squared away here.”
“I appreciate that. Could you please give Devon Abram a call to come in? Now, if he can, instead of in the morning, as a personal favor to me?”
The criminal attorney lived in town. West Chester had bigger law firms, but their guys would have trouble driving to Broslin tonight.
“Was that really Allie Bianchi?” Leila snuck in the question as she dialed.
Harper nodded. “And that’s all I know. I haven’t questioned her yet.”
“Where is her father?”
Fine, Harper knew that too. “Dead.”
Leila pressed a hand to her chest before tilting her head. “Then why is she in trouble?”
Harper walked away with a shake of his head.
Gabi was in the supply room, grabbing a new box of emergency flares from the shelf. “Stocking up my ride before heading home. Six accidents cleaned me out. People who don’t know how to drive in snow should stay home in a snowstorm.” She paused. “Heard you caught a murder.”
“Could have done without it.”
“No doubt, you’ll have it buttoned up before anyone can say ex-girlfriend’s a homicidal maniac.” She grinned, then added, “Hey, if you have some time this week, get the guys together at Finnegan’s would you? Hunter is driving me crazy, moping around the house because he couldn’t go to Quantico with his big brother.”
“It’s a sad day wh
en a woman can’t keep her man happy and has to call in outside help.” Harper put on a tragic expression.
“Leila and I were talking about ordering the new Hi-Vis vests in neon pink. Did you know they come in a bunch of shades now, not just yellow? I mean, this place is so unrelentingly masculine. The PD could use a little color. Stationery too.” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Picture yourself at a crime scene, pulling out your little pink notebook and writing in it with a little pink pen.”
“I’ll take Hunter to target practice.”
As Gabi left—with a grin and a swagger—Harper grabbed a pair of rubber flip-flops, cotton socks, orange overalls, along with a gunpowder residue kit. And then he returned to the interview room, wishing he were anywhere else but there.
He dropped his armload on the table next to Allie before uncuffing her.
“Hold still.” He swabbed her hands and then sealed the strips in the envelope that came with them so they could be sent to the lab first thing in the morning.
She shoved those freshly checked hands under her armpits. “You’re not going to find anything.”
She was probably right about that. “You took a bath. Why not wait for your suitcase and fresh clothes?”
“I was frozen.”
“Or you were smart enough to know you had to get rid of the evidence.”
Murder crept into her eyes. When she looked at him like that, he could definitely see her committing bloody violence. Maybe she’d hardened up over the past decade, under her father’s tutelage. Everybody changed.
He pointed at the overalls. “I’ll give you some time and privacy. Coffee?”
She visibly struggled, but managed to be polite for the sake of caffeine. “Yes, please.”
“Leila is calling the attorney for you. He should be here in a little while. Devon Abram. Pretty good at what he does.”
Harper caught himself. He didn’t usually give encouragement to murder suspects. He stepped out of the room before he could say or do something even stupider, like lose himself in her bottomless eyes and the past.
He made a full pot of coffee in the break room with slow care. No rush whatsoever. He wanted to spend as little time as possible with Allie before Abram got there.