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She ran down the steps and across the yard to grab her daughter out of the front seat of my car. They both collapsed on the grass, a tangle of limbs as they clung to each other, their sobs filling the cold winter night.
TJ came to the front door and hurried down the steps, trying to get them both up and standing. “You’re making a scene, Vanessa.”
I stepped between them and gave him a threatening look. “You come one step closer to either of them, and I promise you that I’ll take you out.”
He must have believed me, because he took a step backward, still seething but letting them be.
After Vanessa settled down, she carried Ava into the house. I followed them in, and we sat in the living room while I told them what I knew, trying to be sensitive to Ava listening. TJ stood in the corner of the room, his face red with anger.
“So this was all your fault,” TJ said in an icy tone. “You’re responsible.”
“The man who kidnapped our daughter is the one responsible. Not Harper,” Vanessa snapped, then took her daughter up to bed.
“The only people involved so far are Barry Sylvester, James Malcolm, and myself,” I told TJ after Vanessa and Ava had left the room. “We didn’t call the sheriff.”
“I suppose you want me to thank you?” Sarcasm dripped from his words.
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “If I’d had my way, they would have been involved from the moment you discovered your daughter was missing. Maybe you should fire that PI you hired to find her.” I headed for the door. If I never saw TJ Peterman again, I’d be a happy woman.
“Did Malcolm really help save my daughter?” he called after me.
“He did.” But now I realized his act hadn’t been so selfless after all. Malcolm now had something to hold over TJ’s head.
Fuck them all.
I headed home and took a long shower, trying to wash away the stench of everything that had transpired not only over the course of the night, but the past four months. I barely dried off before I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and fell into bed.
The sun was bright when I woke up, again to a pounding on my door, only this time it wasn’t my mother. It was Nate.
He took one look at me, and worry filled his eyes. “Are you sick?”
“I just woke up. What time is it?”
“Nearly one o’clock.” He gave me an apologetic look. “Can I come in?”
I was in no mood for company, so I started to tell him no, but at the last minute I backed up to let him in. I headed for my espresso machine. Maybe caffeine would help the sledgehammer pounding in my head.
“I’ve been calling and texting all morning. When I couldn’t get ahold of you…” His voice broke. “Sorry I just dropped in, but I had to make sure you were okay myself.”
“I’m okay. I’m just taking a mental health day.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Did you talk to Drew last night?”
I couldn’t tell him anything about what had happened last night, but I had to say something. “Yeah. We met at Scooter’s and he had a couple of beers. We talked about his father and their relationship, then he left.”
“So why did you need to talk to him so badly?”
I studied him for a moment then shook my head. “I…” I wasn’t sure what I could tell him.
“Drew’s dead.”
I sucked in a breath. I’d wondered if Malcolm would try to hide the body. I’d wanted to warn him that a missing police officer would get the state police involved, but then again, he was smart enough to know that. “What happened?”
“The police chief is investigating, but it looks like Danny came over to Drew’s house and killed him, then killed himself.”
“How convenient,” I mumbled to myself. I knew I should be horrified. Malcolm had obviously dealt out his own vigilante justice, but I couldn’t bring myself to work up the expected outrage.
“What?”
