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“My client is not commenting on your accusation,” Mr. Hale interjected, sounding a bit panicked. His fingers pinched harder.
“Vanessa Peterman says she hasn’t heard from you in years, and suddenly you’re showing up on her doorstep less than two hours after she reported her daughter as missing.” He cocked his head. “Pretty suspicious, don’t you think?”
Mr. Hale pinched even harder. “My client will not dignify that ludicrous question with an answer.”
“And then you’re talking to Ava’s friends. You’re getting the address of her school janitor? They say criminals like to visit the scenes of their crimes to watch for reactions from their loved ones. They eat them up. You’re just takin’ it to a whole new level.”
“Do not say one word, Harper,” my attorney growled, then jumped to his feet, pulling me up with him. “We’re done here, Chief Larson.”
“But I’m just getting started,” he said with a laugh.
Mr. Hale gave me a push toward the door, and I let him, shocked into a stupor.
Was Chief Larson serious? Or was he just messing with me?
Mr. Hale opened the door and not so gently shoved me into the hall.
But Chief Larson stood in the doorway, calling after us as we turned the corner to the exit. “If I’m investigating anyone for kidnapping Ava Peterman, it’s going to be you, Harper Adams. It’s going to be you.”
Chapter 27
As soon as we exited the building, Mr. Hale turned me toward him, his face taut. “Follow me to my office.”
I stared at him, still in shock at how quickly things had turned. “What?”
His jaw clenched. “We have things to discuss, and it can’t wait.”
I had to swallow the urge to tell him he couldn’t order me to go. Going to his office was a smart idea, necessary, but my belligerence with the chief had put me in fight mode.
Don’t screw yourself, Harper.
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
“It’s only a few blocks from here, on the other side of downtown.” He headed toward a black BMW a few spaces from my car, and I headed toward mine. It took me two tries to get the door open. I sat in the seat, wondering how the hell I’d gotten here.
I grabbed my phone out of my jacket pocket and was about to send a text to Vanessa before I thought better of it. I needed to talk to Hale first. I tossed my phone in the passenger seat, then backed up to follow Hale’s car.
His office was in the end unit of a two-story building that ran the length of the block. I followed him to the back of the building and parked in a space marked For Clients of Hale Law, and he parked in a spot marked with a sign that read Carter Hale, Attorney at Law. A motorcycle I recognized as Malcolm’s was parked next to a dumpster.
This was going to be a meeting for three. Not that I was surprised.
I started to get out of the car, then remembered my phone. I glanced over at the seat to pick it up and noticed a 5 x 7 manila envelope in the seat with Harper written in black marker in block letters.
My stomach dropped and I went light-headed. Was this from the person who’d left the photo yesterday?
A loud rap sounded on the driver’s window, and I jumped, turning to see Hale peering in with an impatient expression.
I held up a finger. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”
I turned back to the seat and told myself to get it together. Jesus. It was an envelope. My heart started racing, but I knew freaking out wasn’t going to accomplish anything. I picked it up, unsealed the flap, and peered in the opening to see a folded piece of paper.
Reaching inside, I pulled it out, carefully unfolding the sheet of what appeared to be white copy paper. A three-word sentence was written in black marker in the middle of the top part. The same handwriting as on the glass of the photo.
You’re so cold
At the bottom of the page, in smaller letters, was another message.
And poor Eddie Johnson paid the price. (Look under your seat.)
