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“I understand you care for her, but we have rules. You need to follow them. Harper can’t know about the Society and not be a member or an employee. Out of respect for you, I will offer her membership or a job. I’ll give you a few days to get it sorted but I need an answer by the end of the week.” Archer clicked off the call.
Flynn slammed his hand on the steering wheel. How the fuck was he going to get Harper to have anything to do with the Society? He had no fucking clue. He’d thought Harper was safe. That he could survive because he knew she was safe now. He’d thought this nightmare was over, but it had gone from bad to a hell of a lot worse.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
Harper sat on her deck wrapped in a thick blanket and stared out at the waves. It was Friday morning and she should have been back at work, but she’d told Susan she still had a cold and she didn’t want to bring it to the office.
The local newspaper was on the table beside her being held in place by her mug of tea. The headline screamed “Death of a Local Hero.” It was a story about how George Crawley had died in a car crash on his way home from the Halloween Extravaganza. The press speculated he’d had a heart attack brought on by his excessive weight, and poor eating habits, along with the extra stress of his recent surgery.
“Would you like some of Kim’s coffee?”
She jumped to her feet and whirled around. Flynn stood in the middle of her living room. “You could’ve knocked.
“I did. For the last couple of days. You won’t answer. I thought it best to just come in.”
“Well, you can just leave again.” She wrapped herself in the blanket and sat down again.
Flynn came out and put the coffee on the table next to her. Then leaned against the railing blocking her view of the water. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a navy sweater, and he looked so damn good she wanted to jump into his arms. She hated him for it since she was wearing sweats and hadn’t brushed her hair in a couple of days. She hated herself more for noticing how good he looked and smelled. Life was just not fair.
“How did you manage it?” She pointed to the paper. “Crawley died in a car accident? Seriously?”
Flynn just stared at her.
“And I supposed the bit about Jason taking a job with the Boston Police Department was you guys, too?”
Again, he said nothing.
“They’re bringing a retired detective back to run the department until they can find some new people. I suppose Billy Lazlo will leave too sometime soon. Was that even his real name?”
Flynn sipped his coffee.
“Paul will never know that the man who killed Astrid is dead. He’ll never have that peace of mind. How can you live with that?” she demanded. “I just don’t get it.”
“You through?” he asked. “I can’t discuss any of this stuff, not on your balcony. You wanna go inside so I can tell you some things.”
She glared at him but jumped up and marched into her house. He grabbed her tea and came in behind her. He set the mug on the small dining table and then closed the doors.
“First, I don’t know how they made Crawley’s death look like a heart attack caused a car accident. It’s not my department. Second; yes, Jason’s going to Boston was me. I have someone who will keep an eye on him there and if he steps out of line, there will be consequences. He is aware of that. I assume Lazlo will leave in a month or two and I have no idea if Lazlo is his real name, but I highly doubt it.”
“As to Paul knowing the truth, in a few months when things die down, he will receive a phone call. The person will tell him that Astrid got mixed up in something that she shouldn’t have, through no fault of her own. He’ll be told that the person responsible is dead and he’ll be told that there is a scholarship fund being set up in her name at the university she was going to attend. He will be given a number to call should he ever need help with anything. He will be told that his family is owed a debt that cannot be paid but that we will try should he ever call. It is the best we can do.”
Harper stared at him. It wasn’t a trial or a guilty verdict, but it was better than nothing. She ran her hands over her face. “I just don’t… I can’t process it all.”
“I know. It will take a while.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “When do you leave town?”
“Tonight. The Rainy Day Club is closing. The official press release goes something like, “After the death of Calli Gant, the Rainy Day Society had thought it best to close Everlasting Manor for a while.” It will never reopen. It will be sold.
“So that’s it, huh? Everything wrapped up in a neat little bow?”
“There’s one thing left to deal with,” Flynn said.
“What could that possibly be?” she demanded.
“You.”
Her heart thudded against her ribcage and fear tingled down her spine. Was Flynn here to kill her?
