Page 25 of Final Inning

“I don’t care if you think it’s stupid, I am doing my job.” Hagan tried to get around him. But Damien Jarkovsky was huge. At least six-three, and three hundred pounds. He liked to use that against those who were smaller and weaker. He’d been that way in school, too. He’d been two years older than Hagan—but he had liked to bully her because everyone knew what her father was like when he’d been drunk. No one had been able to help her until the last principal and his wife had found out. Then things had gotten better—and Hagan had gotten to move in with her best friend’s family for a year, then at seventeen she’d moved in with her own aunt, after Susan had relocated back to Helery County.

But Jerk-off-sky had still liked to target her whenever their paths had crossed. If she had known he was going to come back to Helery County, she probably would have tried to get a job in Texas from the get-go. “Get out of my way, Damien. I’m supposed to meet with the FBI in fifteen minutes—and I’d like to actually eat lunch first.”

“You know, strutting around this place like you are the queen—it’s going to get you in trouble someday. It will. I’m just trying to help you, Hagan. You know that. You need to figure out how Johnson does things around here. Johnson is the one in charge. If you want to keep your job, you have to do things his way.” He blocked her path again. Hagan just stayed where she was and stared him down. Sometimes that would be enough to disconcert him.

Jarkovsky didn’t know how to handle it when his victims fought back. He never had. Especially women.

“First, I don’t strut. Second, I am rarely in this place. I have a meeting and then I have patrol. So, if you’ll excuse me, aren’t you supposed to be doing prison transports?” They usually only had one or two a day, but it was an all-day assignment. Basically, he took the transports from the small jail in Buckbert to the courthouse in Helery Springs, sat around the courthouse all day, playing on his phone—she suspected he had a gambling addiction—and then drove them back. It was probably one of the easiest assignments on the books.

And of course Jarkovsky got it all the time.

It wasn’t exactly the assignment Hagan wanted—but it suited Damien’s lazy ass to a T.

“Just…I am only trying to help you. I know…you don’t have anyone else. Why can’t we be friends…? I understand you…”

There it was. His hand wrapped around her arm. Lingered.

Hagan suddenly lost every bit of her appetite.

She pulled away. “I have to go. The FBI is waiting.”

“You won’t be able to say no forever, Hagan. Remember that.”

Chapter 16

Julian Adams was a very attractive man. In that quiet, unassuming intelligent way that Miranda had always liked. He had dark brown hair with a hint of red, and dark blue eyes. He reminded her of some of the men in PAVAD like Mia’s husband Evan or J.T. Thompkins. Quiet competence, mostly. Julian was about six-two, and built along the same lean lines as the big dark shadow lurking at her shoulder.

Allan Knight was so confusing sometimes.

Knight was actually hovering over her today. She almost thought he might have been worried about her or something. There may just be a heart inside that scaly exterior after all.

Julian Adams had quiet eyes—that was an expression her grandmother used.

Miranda understood what that meant. Julian seemed very calm. He led them into his office—he was a real estate investor. Which…surprising, considering the area. “I’m sorry about the mess. I am renovating again. This office is just too small. But I got the building for a great price when the previous owner relocated to Texas six months ago, and I have offices in other parts of the state. How can I help you today? Are you here about my dad?”

“Actually, we’re here about Harper Wycoff. Do you have a few moments to talk with us? We understand you were the last one to speak with her that day.” They weren’t going to ask about his father. Not yet. Dani was still hunting down information about all the players back then. They would discuss possible connections once Dani had more for them to go on. Unless Julian volunteered that information, anyway.

“Of course.” He had paled. Interesting. “Harper was a good friend. For years.”

“How did you meet her?”

“Like most people around here. We started off in school together. Buckbert would have two or three grades in one room. It just worked that way. We weren’t always close friends, but in a small class like that—well, we knew each other well. When she came back after college—she transferred to the small campus a few counties over for a semester to take some specific classes—we just started hanging around each other again. And then she met Tyler.”

“Tyler Cahalan?” That was the name of the boyfriend Harper had been involved with. She’d been on her way to see him that night. Or so everyone thought.

They still had questions.

“Yes. He is my closest friend. We met in college. Business majors. He runs commercial storage properties from Austin to OKC. I’ll occasionally help him out with finding new properties to check out. Once they met, it was full on head-over-heels. He…had plans. Going to pop the question as soon as she graduated with her nursing degree. Said he was going to grab her before she got away or met a fancy, rich doctor or something. He is…hurting now. I’m not sure how to help him.” And that was genuine concern in his expression. He was worried about his friend—hurting for him.

“We understand you were the last one to talk to Harper that day,” Knight said. “Can you tell us about that?”

“I don’t know what else to tell. I have already told Hagan everything I can remember. I’m not sure she believed me, though. Thought maybe I knew more than I was telling her, and just didn’t know it or something. But I really want to help. I know Hagan…well, Sheriff Johnson can be a bit of a jerk. And he is old school. Not too fond of women in law enforcement, or business, or…just anywhere outside of the home. My own mother despised that man for years. For how he…handled what happened to my dad. My mom always felt he should have done more. She moved to Lubbock a few years after my parents divorced. They divorced when I was fifteen. I stayed with my dad to finish school here, and Ramey went back and forth between them, but…we all still spent time together. As much as we could. My parents did remain friends. But…Sheriff Johnson—I tried to talk to him about Harper but, well…he believes Harper did drugs. And that was all he was going to say. Don’t want to put him out, actually expect him to do his job or anything like that. It might strain him far too much.”

There was definitely some bitterness toward a certain county sheriff.

Well, Miranda agreed there. From what she had seen, Johnson, a deputy back then when Kevin Adams was killed, had done the bare minimum. What she didn’t understand was why. She and Knight had disagreed every time they tried to figure out Johnson’s why. She said stupid. Knight thought it boiled down to more like lazy.

Miranda had read over Julian’s statement on the way over. He had claimed Harper had stopped by to say hello, and had stayed long enough to eat take-out lunch with him on his front porch while he was repairing the decking, before leaving several hours before her time of death. He said she’d seemed preoccupied, but not upset. She’d never come inside his house—he owned a two-building complex near the edge of Buckbert. That fact had been confirmed by the neighbor across the street—an elderly doctor who had made it clear he had delivered both Julian and Harper, and had sworn that girl did not go inside that night. Julian’s next-door neighbor, his tenant, had also confirmed Harper hadn’t gone inside.