Closing the door, I lean against it and blow out a puff of air. I’m exhausted, physically and mentally, and it’s only going to get harder.
Taking off the torture devices masquerading as heels, I head straight for the fridge and fill one of those absurdly oversized wine glasses—the kind that holds an entire bottle. Grabbing the glass, I head for my bathroom; I’m in serious need of soaking my aching feet.
I stop on the way, poking my head around a door to see a mound of covers hiding the body underneath. I creep in quietly, the sliver of moonlight casting enough light for me to see my child’s sleeping face peeking through. I smile softly, then kiss the tips of my fingers and place them on his forehead. He stirs, but not enough to fully wake up. I walk out, close the door gently, and take the last remaining steps to the bathroom.
Turning on the light, I place the glass of wine on the counter, then set the water to full blast and add my favorite bath scents. The smell of jasmine fills the air around me as the tub fills. Undressing, I try not to think of the shit show of today. Of the case I’m stuck working on with a man I dislike more than anything. But… do I really dislike him that much, or is it because he left me without a word and my hurt feelings are showing?
I climb into the tub, reach across my small bathroom to grab my glass, and take a healthy swig before settling myself back. The hot water, almost too hot, helps soothe my muscles, allowing the tension to fizzle out and my poor feet to stop stinging from the blisters that have formed on the heels.
The alcohol settles into my bloodstream, giving me an almost floaty feeling, which unlocks my mind enough to start flying through what I learned of Harper.
It’s going to be tough, of that I have no doubt, but I know I won’t rest until I find out exactly what happened to her.
I’ve always been this way; it was one of my oldest memories of my dad before he died. Well, before both my parents died in a car accident when I was sixteen. We would sit and watch true crime documentaries every night before I went to bed. It was our bonding session, how we decompressed from the day—me, a sixteen-year-old with the dramas of high school boys, and my dad, a Professor of Science at the local college.
After they passed away, I moved in with my aunt and her creepy boyfriend until I turned eighteen and went to college. The boyfriend never did anything, but he did leer at me every so often. I quickly learned to make sure I was covered from head to toe at all times, and I only left my room when I knew he was passed out drunk or at work. It was an uncomfortable environment to live in, but I managed to get through it. I studied hard, and it paid off. I always knew I wanted to make my mom and dad proud and to never end up like my aunt—a woman so oblivious to the world around her she only cared about the next state payment that she could blow on drugs and booze.
How I ended up with her remains a mystery I have yet to uncover.
I didn’t know the full ins and outs of their death until I got older, but things still didn’t add up. The police reports I’d asked for didn’t match what I remembered from that night, so I became my own little detective. They dropped the ball on so many things that the guy they had in custody ended up walking free. That’s when I knew I never wanted to be a police officer, and that I’d rather operate behind the scenes and see justice fully served by becoming an attorney at law.
Shaking off my walk down memory lane, I get out of the tub, grab the nearest towel, and dry off. In my dimly lit bedroom, I change into my black vest top and matching shorts. Then, with my glass of winefinished and placed in the sink, I settle on the sofa, curl my legs under me, and pull my laptop out.
I know the answer is here; I can feel it. I just have to find it.
Chapter Eight
THEO
The trill of the office phone makes me jump. I’ve been so engrossed in this new case that everything around me has become white noise. I ignore it, carrying on flicking through the pages and pages of research I’d managed to compile from what Frank gave me and documents I found in the library.
The phone continues to ring, but I put it ondo not disturb. When I get involved in a case, I become so obsessed that it becomes my whole identity until it's resolved.
I’ve been here since the butt crack of dawn, trawling through all of these pages. I know I’m missing something, but I can’t see it. Pushing the hair back off my face, I find something. I look closer and sit up, but the door slamming open grabs my attention.
“Ever heard of knock?—”
“Ever heard of answering your phone?” Frank replies. “I’ve been calling you for ages.”
Fuck! Am I in trouble? I don’t think I did anything. Well, maybe the?—
I give him a sheepish look. “Sorry, I got caught up in something.”
“Where’s Blake?” Frank asks, taking a seat opposite me. “I need her here for this.”
“Erm, she popped out for a minute, something about a family emergency,” I lie. Blake’s down in the library doing grunt work, but I don’t want her here, so the sooner she gets fired, the better.
Frank’s eyes narrow. “Send her to my office when she gets back.”
I nod, my plan finally starting to show signs of working.
Bye-bye, Blakey.
“I came in here because I need your help,” he begins. “I need somewhere to hide Harper.”
“Hide? Why do you need to hide her?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
“The senator doesn’t want anyone to know she’s been found until the guy who did this to her is locked behind bars. And I know you have… connections. Ones that won’t lead back here or to the senator.” He gives me a knowing look, and I nod.
