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Louise’s face paled.
“A neighbor called my mother early this morning, and I went over to check on Vanessa—the missing girl’s mother. She told me the police were acting like Ava was a runaway, but when I went upstairs to check over her room, which hadn’t been sealed off, I found a red ribbon tied to the upstairs porch railing.”
Confusion clouded her eyes.
“A red ribbon was significant to my sister’s case,” I said, dropping my gaze to my plate and picking up a fry. “And it wasn’t made public.”
Louise gasped, then quickly recovered. “Shit, Harper.”
I glanced back up. “I made sure Chief Larson knew, but he told me they were treating it as a runaway and to butt out.”
“How do they explain the ribbon?”
“TJ says it belongs to Ava, that’s the girl’s name, but Vanessa insisted neither Ava nor her sister have red ribbons.”
Louise made a face that suggested she might not be totally on board with my theory. “I can see how it looks like a kidnapping, but—”
“You know the photo that was stolen from my house in Little Rock? I found it in my car this morning after I talked to some neighbors on the Petermans’ street.”
She dropped her sandwich onto her plate, a piece of lettuce falling onto the table. “What?”
“A note was handwritten in marker on the glass saying It should have been you. And I know it’s the same photo. Same broken frame and everything.”
She planted both hands on the table, palms against the surface. “What does that mean?”
“I’m guessing they were referring to my sister or Ava.” A new thought hit me. “Or maybe they meant I should be dead and not the kid I killed.” I shook my head, the little food in my stomach churning. “It’s too vague to know for sure.”
She brushed off her hands with her napkin, concern wrinkling her brow. “Do you want to file a report?”
“Are you serious?” I scoffed. “After what happened in Little Rock? Hard pass.” While Louise believed my home in Little Rock had been broken into multiple times, everyone else had insinuated I was making it up. Poor, crazy Harper Adams. She cracked one day, and look what’s become of her. No, I wasn’t going down that path again.
“This isn’t Little Rock,” she insisted.
“Maybe, but Chief Larson isn’t my biggest fan. In fact, he sort of tried to run me out of town.” I picked up a fry and took a bite off the end.
Her eyes flew wide. “He did what?”
“He said my presence was riling up the good citizens of Jackson Creek and hinted that the sooner I left town, the better.” I popped the fry into my mouth and watched her reaction.
Her cheeks flushed as her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I shrugged my shoulders with a wry grin. “I’m infamous.”
“But—”
I cut her off. “So you see my dilemma. The chief wouldn’t exactly be open to my report. Not entirely unlike what happened in Little Rock.”
She sat back in her seat, some of the fight bleeding out of her.
“I think it’s safe to presume the person who broke into my house in Little Rock is the same person who planted the framed photo and note in my car. The real question is if they’re tied to Ava’s disappearance or if they stalked me here and took advantage of my car being parked for an hour on the Petermans’ street.”
“Has this person tried to contact you before?”
I shook my head. “No. And the break-ins stopped after the photo was stolen from my dresser drawer. That was last October. Nearly four months ago.”
“Was there anyone in Jackson Creek who was obsessed with your sister’s case?” Louise asked.
“Everyone was obsessed with her case. But if you’re asking if one of the people in town has the potential to stalk me…” I pushed out a sigh. “I have no idea. I spoke to a guy I went to high school with, and he told me that right about the time I came back into town, the tide of public opinion about me started to change.”
