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Harris was jealous sometimes. Since moving to the South, she felt like she’d become a different person. Not better or worse, not more herself or less. Just different. She had different priorities now, different interests. She and Hector had drifted apart. In the past year or two, they hadn’t even wished each other a happy birthday. She started to promise herself that she’d do better, like she always did when she thought of him, but what was the point? She’d just get wrapped up in something else and forget about him again.
And it wasn’t like he was knocking down her door to talk to her, either.
“I need you to run a plate for me.”
“You know I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Harris tried to keep the apathy out of her voice. She didn’t like this version of herself—the one who was more interested in getting the job done than keeping up appearances. She could fake small talk with anyone but him. Hector had always been able to see right through her. “It’s important.”
“It’s always important.” His voice was louder, and she could hear him attempting to control the anger. “What about the other stuff that’s important? What about me? I was happy to help when I thought you cared—”
“I do care.” She hated the way her voice shook. She was better than this. Stronger. “I’ve always cared. I just—” A sob escaped. All she could see was David’s body, lying there. Dead.
Silence enveloped the other end of the line. Harris worried he’d hung up, but then she heard him sigh into the receiver. “What’s going on?”
“A friend of mine was murdered.” She took a deep breath. The cold stung her lungs, but it cleared her mind. She blinked away the tears. But she couldn’t control the sniffling. “He was a cop. I’m in Chicago running down a lead.”
“Chicago?” Hector clicked his tongue in approval. “Did you go to Tommy’s?”
“Of course.” She laughed, but it came out wet with emotion. “The place has changed a lot. Not even the same owner anymore, I don’t think. Chowder was just okay.”
“Well, it’s been twelve years. Things are bound to change.”
“Yeah.” It was all Harris could say. Suddenly, she felt like the one who’d been elbowed in the chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Hector cleared
his throat. “I’m sorry, too. About your friend.”
It didn’t feel like he’d forgiven her, but he was trying. “Thank you.”
“What’s the plate?”
Harris had memorized it the second she’d seen the picture. “Seven, three, nine, six, Delta, Charlie.”
She heard a few clicks of a keyboard. “It’s a commercial license plate for a B-truck. Belongs to a business.”
“What’s the business?”
“Carrera Moving Company.” A couple more clicks. “A family-owned moving company. Looks like they’ve been in business for about four years. They could use an update to their website. It’s looking a little rough.”
“Thanks, Hector. I owe you one.”
“You owe me a lot more than that, Addie.”
The silence that followed spoke volumes for both of them. “I know.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t have time for this right now, but she didn’t feel right leaving it at that. “Look, I just wanted to say—”
“Save it.” His voice sounded calm. “Figure this out. Get your head on straight. Then call me back.” There was another pause, like Hector was trying to figure out how much to say. “Charlie and I miss you.”
Harris opened her mouth, but no sounds came out. She blinked back more tears, then found her voice. But it was too late.
“I miss you too,” she said. But he had already hung up.
9
Cassie wandered once again through the Chicago History Museum. It wasn’t the best place to decompress, but it was a good distraction. People milled about, murmuring to their friends and discussing the paintings in this hall. She felt the spirits in the building more than she saw them. And she felt just as lost as they did.
Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She felt more alone than she ever had before. David was gone, and Harris had shut her out of whatever she’d needed to do. Jason was so far away, and her family had no true understanding of what she was going through.
