“Shh.”
“Help,” someone groans a little louder.
“I think it’s coming from Small Town Stories,” Cade says.
We step closer to the shop, ears on alert. The shop door is propped open to let in the warm summer air, and at first glance, the shop looks like a mess. Books are scattered everywhere, and a couple shelves are knocked over. Cade and I share a look before stepping inside, and when we hear the soft cry for help again, this time coming from inside the store, we bolt in.
“Over here!” Cade yells.
I run to where he is and stop in my tracks when I spot Harper on the ground. She’s curled in a ball, her blonde hair matted with blood and when she looks up, my heart sinks when I see bruising around her neck, a split lip and two black eyes.
“Cade, call for an ambulance. Harper, Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, getting down to her level. When I place a hand on her arm, she winces in pain, and the wince makes her cry out.
“I fell,”
“You fell?” I say in disbelief, because there is no way a fall caused this.
“I can be a kelutz.” She tries to shrug and laugh the whole thing off, but the jolt makes her cry.
I’m scared things could be broken, so I don’t want to move her. Instead, Cade and I take a seat next to her as we wait for the ambulance to come.
“Harper, the ambulance will be here shortly. Can you tell us how you fell?” my brother asks her, looking at me.
“Um, I tripped over some books?” she mumbles, more of a question than a statement, and it’s all the proof we need. Some fucker did this, and I know exactly who.
“Harper. If someone hurt you, you need to report them,” I say.
“It was an accident,” she says quietly through muffled sobs.
“Did Jep do this, Harper?”
“He didn’t mean to.” She cries.
This poor girl. I don’t want her to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but she needs to hear the truth.
“I worked on a case once. I was about your age, new to the job, and I’ll never forget it. We’d been called in a few times about suspected domestic abuse. The wife always insisted she was clumsy, until one day it was obvious someone hurt her. She wouldn’t press charges. Just said her husband didn’t mean to do it. Smiled about it the whole damn time too. She was good at pretending. Husband eventually went to jail for unrelated crimes, and I thought, good, she’s safe now. But as soon as he got out, she took him back. A week later we were investigating her murder.”
Harper’s shoulders shake as she cries. “I’m scared.”
“Leaving an abuser can be really scary, I get that. But if you let us, we would really like to help you.”
The paramedics take over, and when they finish up, we learn that along with every physical thing we can see, Harper has a dislocated shoulder and suspected broken ribs. I follow them out the door as they load her into the back of the ambulance, and when she meets my eyes, I can tell she’s ready for this next step.
“Say the words and we will arrest him right now,” I tell her.
“I want to press charges,” she says, with courage.
The doors slam shut, locking her in, and as soon as they take off, I help Cade shoo away all the nosy bystanders and then we run back to the station, jump into my cruiser, and take off for Jep Shepard’s house.
An hour later, Jep booked in and locked up, I walk out into the front lobby and see a frantic crowd around Beatrice’s desk.
“What’s going on?” I ask, sauntering up to the desk.
“It’s Natalie,” Ian says in shock. “She’s been found.”
My eyes go wide, and my pulse beats with hope. “Alive?”
“Barley. She’s en route to the hospital right now.”
