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The last time that had happened was when my fourteen-year-old sister had been kidnapped in front of me. Her battered body had turned up one week later.
Andi was the reason I’d become a police detective, and when I’d lost my job, it had felt like I was failing her all over again.
Louise reached out and placed her hand over mine. “It’s gonna be okay, Harper.”
I was glad she was so certain, because I definitely wasn’t.
Chapter 3
Louise’s phone rang and she grimaced as she answered it. “Louise Martin.” She listened for a moment, then said, “I can be there in forty minutes.” She hung up and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ve gotta go. Rain check?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Of course. Everything okay?”
“There’s a bad accident on Highway 24 and some of the deputies are tied up with a murder north of town. They’re short-handed, so they asked me to come in and help.”
Murder? Last I remembered there weren’t many murders around here.
I wanted to ask about it. But I reminded myself I wasn’t a detective anymore and gave her a wave. “Go. We’ll catch up later.”
She started to get out of her seat but lowered her gaze to my half-empty glass. Her bottle was still only half-empty. “You’re not planning on leaving soon, are you? I can drive you home.”
My back bristled. “I’m good. I’ll make sure I’m sober before I drive. Besides, I have a high tolerance these days.”
She gave me a dubious look. “Harper, I know everything sucks right now, but it will get better. Okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to frown. “I know.”
She got out of the booth and hesitated, placing a hand on my arm. “Call me if you need to spend a night away from your parents. Or if you just need a friend.”
I glanced up at her, hating the burning in my eyes. “Thanks, Louise. That means more than you know.”
She nodded, her mouth pressed into a grim line. “I’m gonna go pay the tab for both of us. Let’s try this again soon.” She headed up the bar and settled up with a female bartender. Malcolm wasn’t in sight.
I nursed the dregs of my drink until she finished paying. She gave me one last look before heading for the door. Less than a minute later, I was up at the bar asking the bartender for another drink.
The bartender—her name tag read Misti—shot me a sympathetic look. “Sorry. James says we have to cut you off.”
My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. I’ve only had two.”
“He said if you want another drink you have to eat something first.”
What the hell? I wasn’t even drunk. Was this some underhanded way of making customers spend more money? Fuck that.
Then another thought hit me.
Did he know who I was? The name Harper Adams was pretty infamous too these days. I was either a martyr or a murderer, depending on who you spoke to.
That was rich—a known criminal blackballing me.
I grabbed my purse and my jacket from the booth and headed out the door. I didn’t plan to drive yet—I was smart enough to know my blood alcohol was over the legal limit—but I didn’t plan on nursing a glass of water and a basket of fries while Misti watched me either.
I walked out into the cool February night air. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, I dragged in a deep breath to settle my ragged nerves.
Maybe this was a mistake. Meeting Louise. Moving into my parents’ garage apartment. Maybe I should have…
What? Taken a job at Walmart or a car wash? I’d definitely needed to leave Little Rock. I was too damn notorious, whether people approved of me or not. I had no desire to be some poster child for the discussion about bad cops.
Moving home was penance…if I only knew for what.
