Then I nodded and stepped back. “Stay safe, Miss Harper. Call me if you need anything.”
I started to close the door, but she caught it with a firm hand.
“Thank you,” she said softly, eyes cast down, lashes hiding whatever emotion brewed behind them.
I gave a slow nod and backed away, the door shutting with a solid click. The truck roared to life, and I stood there watching those red taillights disappear into the darkness like a slow burn I didn’t know how to put out.
18
JAGG
“Where’s my daughter?”
Halfway up the station steps, I paused and looked over my shoulder. A pudgy, short man in a golf cap, blinding neon-blue paisley golf shirt, and corduroy pants—despite the heat—slammed the door to a black Porsche. I glanced at my wristwatch—4:34 a.m.
I wasso closeto being home.
Sodamnclose.
I looked back at the station doors, willing them to slide open and someone—any-freaking-one else—to walk out the door and deal with this guy.
“You.” He jabbed a finger at me.
I cocked a brow. I wasnotin the mood. Especially for a rich, pompous Porsche-driving jerk.
“Where’s my daughter?” He demanded.
Daughter, Porsche, money…
Arlo Harper? Sunny’s millionaire real estate mogul father.
I turned fully as he stomped his stubby legs across the parking lot. My first thought was how this man’s DNA couldmake someone who looked like Sunny. There was hardly a resemblance, and based on the six-figure sports car, Rolex around his wrist, black wingtips —at four in the morning—looks weren’t the only thing they didn’t have in common. As if the woman didn’t intrigue me enough.
He lifted his double chin. “I won’t ask again, Mr.—”
“Detective. I just escorted your daughter to her truck, where she just left the park.”
“What? I thought she was here.” Arlo said, a line of confusion running down his forehead.
“No. She just left.”
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Thatgirl.”
I blinked, surprised that his first comment wasn’t asking if she was okay. I was also surprised at the whiff of soap coming off his skin. He’d taken time to shower before coming to the station to check on his beloved daughter.
“Where was she going?” He asked.
“Can’t tell you that, sir.”
“What the hell do you mean you can’t tell me that?”
“Because I don’t know where she was going.”
“Well,” he grumbled. “I want to talk to whoever’s in charge of the case.”
I took an inward deep breath. I wantedhome.
“You’re looking at him,” I said.
