But he wasn’t ready to give up.
“What’s got you staring at those photos for the past forty minutes?” Nolan peered over his shoulder.
Harper minimized the screen. He wasn’t about to tell Nolan that he’d decided to revisit the apartment building where the goods had been stored. Nolan was too smart and would figure out what he was up to.
“Nothing. Just making sure everything is in order.”
“Any plans for the weekend?”
“Nothing except taking David to the zoo and then the park.”
“How’s he doing?”
Harper shrugged. “The same. Therapy keeps his muscles alive, and Luis takes him out every day—the library, the park, anywhere he can get mental stimulation.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “He’s happy—or as happy as he can be. That’s the best I can hope for.”
“It can’t be easy. I admire you.”
Harper snorted. “For what? I get to walk and run and enjoy life. I’m not tied to a chair, unable to move but still alive inside.”
“But you’re there. Every day. Lots of people would’ve put him in a home, and then they’d go to visit once a week.”
Sweat rolled down his back. “I couldn’t.”
Nolan squeezed his shoulder. “I know. But a guy’s gotta live. See you on Monday.”
He nodded and clicked the mouse to bring the photos up again. He’d combed through every inch of the apartment, looking for the photo of Colson’s grandparents. After that night, when they’d practically mauled each other, Harper felt guilty over crossing the line with a victim. Numerous times he’d passed by Colson’s house, thinking he should go up the steps, apologize for being unprofessional, and move on.
But he didn’t want to move on. He wanted…Fuck. He wanted Colson Delacourt, but it wasn’t right. Colson had touched a nerve. It wasn’t professional to become involved with a crime victim, but also, he had to give everything to David. He’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t have both.
Still, even if Colson was off-limits, Harper could go the extra mile to try and find the picture that meant so much to him. He closed the computer and left the precinct It wasn’t something he looked forward to doing, but he was damn well going to try.
Two hours later, he surveyed the mess of garbage bags in the compactor room with disgust. He’d gone through close to ahundred plastic bags of trash, and there had to be at least fifty more. He should just say fuck it and leave. He was already late for dinner with David, but Luis had reassured him he was fine with watching him late, and David wasn’t too hungry, so dinner could be postponed for an hour.
He untied another bag and wrinkled his nose at the dirty diapers and remnants of God knew what. Harper quickly retied that one and tossed it aside. Another bag contained a ton of cigarette butts and fast-food bags and boxes. Harper recalled the same trash in the apartment where they’d located the stolen picture frame. He picked out all the garbage until he saw it: the crumpled photograph of two elderly people with a smiling Colson between them.
He smoothed it out the best he could, but it would be impossible to rid the picture of all the creases.
“Bastards,” he swore. Judging by the unbridled joy in all their faces, Colson had loved his grandparents and had been loved in return. Perhaps that was why he was so devoted to his neighbor, Millie Johnson—he felt a kinship to the lonely, elderly woman because she reminded him of his grandparents.
He glanced at his watch—close to seven. He had to get home to David. He was very careful to keep to their routine as David’s doctor said it gave David a sense of security, but with his job, that wasn’t always possible. He slipped the photo into a Redweld file he’d brought along and left the building. On his way home, he sent Colson a text.
Are you around tonight?
An answer popped up a few minutes later.
Yes, why?
Harper bit his tongue while typing.
I have something to show you. Can I come by after dinner?
I’ll be here.
Harper had to get something off his chest before he saw Colson later.
Listen, I’m sorry I stepped over the line. I’ve never done that before.
It took a moment for Colson to respond, but it felt like an hour.
