This time, McCord graced me with a look—a disapproving sidelong glance before refocusing on Arlo.
“Come on in, Arlo. We just put some fresh coffee on.”
Fresh.Ha.
“Jagger.” It wasn’t lost on me that the chief left out my title. “You can head home for the night.”
Ignoring him, I turned to Arlo. “I’d like to speak with you sometime today, if you don’t mind, Mr. Harper of Harper’s Construction.”
“I’ll handle it, Jagger,” The chief growled.
“Mr. Harper,” I continued, “your daughter waived her right for an attorney this evening. Do you know why?”
“Not surprised. She’s had enough experience with those blood suckers, although I’m sure you know all about that by now.” His gaze narrowed. “And I’ve done a lot to keep the incident in Dallas under wraps and I expect the same discretion here.”
Incident.
“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt your daughter?”
“No, but I wouldn’t.”
“Why’s that?”
“She and I aren’t close.”
“What about anyone who maybe wanted to get to you?”
“Are you saying my daughter was attacked because of me?”
“Detective—”McCord snapped.
“Ah, good morning boys…” In his ever-perfect timing, Colson rushed down the steps.
He focused on me, his eyes laced with warning.
“Detective, you’ve got a call. Tanya’s forwarding it to your cell phone. I’ll update Mr. Harper on the evening’s events. Feel free to head home.”
My ringing cell phone cut off the words on the tip of my tongue that surely would have gotten my badge pulled right then and there. Grinding my teeth, I handed my card to Mr. Harper of Harper Construction.
“Call me if you think of anything that could be helpful in understanding why your daughter was attacked tonight. I’ll be in touch with you later today.”
He slid the card into his pocket as the chief pulled him up the steps.
As I watched Colson, McCord and Arlo disappear into the station, I added another to-do to my morning. To learn more about the bad blood between Sunny and her dad.
19
JAGG
The night had faded into a crystal-clear morning, not a cloud in the sky. A thin layer of fog clung low over the wilted grass, already lifting as the sun burned through it. The radio said eighty percent humidity, and the air confirmed it—thick, heavy, cloying. The kind of Southern heat that wrapped around your throat and didn’t let go. My Jeep cut through it like a slow-moving blade. Didn’t help that the AC had been out for months.
Another triple-digit day on the horizon.
And a full moon coming.
I pulled into the town square, already buzzing with early risers. Donna Jo watered flowers outside her salon, Tad wiped down the rocking chairs in front of his tool shop. Cyclists zipped by, chasing the last of the cool air, while a few cowboys on horseback clopped past on their morning routines. Subarus topped with kayaks headed toward Otter Lake.
And Donny’s Diner—packed, as always. Not a booth open, not a parking spot left.
