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I was glad I didn’t say anything to my dad. It would have been a waste of time, but at least I satisfied my curiosity. I made my way around the mess and was about to leave the room when my eye caught something. The edge of a piece of paper sticking out from behind a stack of boxes I had moved.
Had I dislodged a paper?
I moved the top box off the stack, placing it on the stack to the right and stretched myself across the now lower pile of boxes and smiled. It was a piece a paper. A letter from what I could tell, and a corner had been torn off it. I was itching to get a hold of it but recalling what my dad said about chain of evidence, I knew I couldn’t touch it.
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and took a couple of photos of the letter. Then I called my dad.
“Hold on a minute, Pepper,” my dad said. “Hi, Ian, thanks so much for giving permission to go through your garbage.”
I heard Ian say, “Whatever you need, Sheriff.”
I heard him thank Ian again before saying to me, “I haven’t found anything not that you need to know that.”
“I have, Dad. I’m in—” I felt the blow to the back of my head, then everything went black.
“Pepper? Pepper? Pepper!” the sheriff yelled into his phone.
I opened my eyes to find myself being carried in the arms of a gorgeous Highlander.
“Ian,” I murmured.
“It’s all right, Pep, I’ve got you,” he said.
I loved when he smiled, but I also saw concern in the deep crease between his gorgeous eyes.
“Get her on the bed.”
Was that my dad telling Ian to get me in bed? Clarity returned to me when I heard my dad again.
“An ambulance is on the way.”
“Someone hit me,” I said, finally making sense of what was going on.
Ian laid me on the most comfortable mattress I had ever felt, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Is this your bed. It’s so comfortable.”
“Don’t go thinking you’ll be sleeping there,” my dad ordered.
I was sure neither Ian nor I thought about sleeping when or if we ever shared it.
Ian wisely avoided the question and asked, “Did you see who hit you, Pep?”
“No. I was hit from behind.” Recalling what happened, the letter came to mind, and I hurried to sit up. A big mistake. I got so dizzy I thought my stomach was going to revolt.
“Easy, Pep,” Ian cautioned, and his arms eased me back, resting my head on the pillow. “No sudden moves. No getting up until you get checked out.”
“Ian’s right. Do as he says,” my dad ordered once again, and I heard the worry in his voice.
“I’m sure I’m okay, Dad. A bump that’s all,” I said, trying to reassure him.
“The doctors at the hospital will make sure of that and don’t bother to tell me you’re not going. You suffered an assault, and you’ll follow procedure.”
There was no arguing with that. But I did want to tell him about the letter before the ambulance arrived.
“I found a letter with the corner torn off. I took a picture of it.” I went to reach for my phone and Ian stopped me.
“I’ll get it. Stay still.”
I didn’t know if my dad would approve, but I said, “Back pocket,” and tried to ease myself on my side. Ian quickly helped me, moving me slowly.
“It’s not there,” Ian said.
“I took pictures of the letter,” I said. “Oh, I was talking to you Dad when I was hit. I must have dropped it.”
My dad made a call. “Did you find a cell phone? I’ll come get it.”
I wasn’t surprised when he ordered Ian not to leave my side.
“I’m getting mixed messages from your father,” Ian confessed after my dad left the room.
“He’s overly protective if you haven’t already noticed,” I said.
“Ah cannae blame him. I’d be the same way with our daughter.”
Our daughter?
Did he say our daughter? Or had it been the whack to my head that made me hear it that way?
I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I ignored it, though with great difficulty. “Once this murder is solved all will be good.”
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Pep, and in my house.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You’re right,” my dad said, entering the room. “It’s yours for being too curious and not telling me you thought what’d I’d been thinking when we weren’t finding anything in the garbage.”
“That the paper might still be in the room where I found the ripped piece,” I said.
My phone was in an evidence bag and my dad handed me the plastic bag to tap in my password. He took it from me as soon as I did.
“It was the last picture you took, right?” my dad asked.
“It isn’t there is it?” I could tell since he was scrolling through my pictures. Pictures form the shoot last night.
