“Nothin’ solid,” he replied grimly. “The back of a man walking out of frame. Holdin’ a fuckin’ umbrella. The angle was bad.”
“Shit.”
“The thing with situations like this is you always find out who’s fuckin’ with you eventually,” Casper said calmly. “It’s a matter of time before someone says somethin’ or somethin’ else happens. Frustratin’ as fuck in the moment, but a pattern always emerges. Shit is never random.”
“Can’t say that makes me feel any better,” I countered.
He was watching me closely, and I wondered what he was looking for.
“You’re seein’ my granddaughter,” he said after a few tense moments.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He shuffled the papers into a stack.
“Good?”
“It’s new,” he said, putting the papers into a file folder. “And she’s never been much of a social butterfly. When she’s not with her parents, I’m guessin’ she’s with you. That’s good.”
“You think she’s bein’ targeted,” I said, following his lead as he rose to his feet.
“I think I don’t have enough information. That changes, we’ll talk again.”
He walked off without another word, and I could’ve strangled him in frustration. Instead, I stomped outside. Harper and I had agreed that we wouldn’t hang out that night since I was going to get up early as fuck to make the drive north. She’d seemed disappointed, but she’d tried to hide it.
I’d known that I’d be shit company the closer it got to the meeting. I’d never been good with anticipation. When I was a kid, I’d almost always puke my guts up from nerves the day before something was happening. It didn’t even have to be a bad thing—knowing I had a field trip the next day was enough to have me awake all night, spending half of it bent over the toilet.
Bernice had called it my nervous tummy.
Thankfully, I’d grown out of the vomiting. I hadn’t grown out of the anxiety. It fucked with me. The best I could hope for was some nightmares without the night sweats that usually accompanied them. The worst would be actual terrors, and my personal favorite—sleep paralysis.
I took the long way home, hoping I could clear out some of the static in my head. Harper would be safe with her parents while I was up north. She didn’t need me up her ass all the time, her dad and brother were fully capable of keeping an eye onthings while I was gone. While I knew that, the space between my shoulder blades was still itchy. We were missing something. Overlooking something.
Seeing Bernice’s lawyer was a different kettle of fish. I didn’t know what the hell I was walking into in the morning. Would he just give me whatever she’d left me right there in the office? If it was just photos and shit, maybe he planned on just handing them over. Would I be the only one there, or had Bernice left things to other foster kids she’d had? No one had stayed as long as I did, not even close, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t loved them. She’d loved each of us, more than we deserved sometimes.
It was fully dark by the time I got home. Letting myself in the house, I swore I could still smell Harp’s perfume. I kicked off my boots and left my cut and hoodie lying over the arm of the couch and went straight to the kitchen for some leftover tater tot casserole. The potatoes were a little soggier after being in the fridge, but I didn’t mind. It was nostalgia in a bowl, and it felt right with my going back home the next day.
I cleaned the kitchen from the night before and turned everything off before making my way upstairs. After a long hot shower, I climbed into bed, which definitely smelled like Harper, and closed my eyes.
Sleep didn’t come for a long time, and I was awake long before my alarm went off the next morning. Grabbing my phone off the dresser, I noticed both a good night text and a good morning text from Harper. Wincing, I text her back, apologizing for the one I’d missed the night before and asking why she was awake so early.
When no text came back in reply, I grabbed a change of clothes and my toothbrush and headed downstairs. I’d set my alarm so that I’d have just enough time to get out the door and make the drive in time for my appointment so I wouldn’t havetime to overthink. Of course, I hadn’t planned on waking before my alarm.
Throwing on a jacket, I pulled my cut over the top and grabbed a helmet from my downstairs closet. I usually didn’t bother with a full-face helmet, but since I’d be spending a couple hours on the freeway, I figured it was a good idea. Tucking my pile of clothes under my arm, I grabbed my keys, walked outside, and froze.
Harper was standing behind my bike, leaning against a 1976 Chevy C-10 that I was very familiar with. Leo had spent over a year restoring it, and I’d spent a lot of that year locating the parts he needed all over the state.
“So, hear me out,” she said as I walked down the steps, her voice both bright and nervous at the same time. “You can totally go by yourself. I won’t be offendedat all. But, I thought if you wanted some company, I’m not really busy these days. And Dad’s truck is a much more comfortable way to drive two hours in the rain. Plus, you can drive, obviously, and I don’t need to go in with you or anything. I can sit in the truck—”
“You’re incredible,” I cut her off, wrapping my free hand around the side of her neck. “You know that?”
“I figured this would seem like a nice gesture or very overbearing,” she said with a sigh. “It could’ve gone either way.”
“Nice gesture,” I clarified. “Sweet as hell.”
“Oh, good.”
“You sure you wanna drive all the way up there for a meetin’ that’ll probably take twenty minutes?”
