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“I still say she was flirting,” Harper said with a smirk as they sank to the floor.
Might as well get comfortable—who knew how long of a wait they had.
He shrugged “Ah...” he said, lifting his hand flat and tilting it back and forth, “maybe a little.”
“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can see that smug grin peeking to come out. You nearly had the poor woman simpering.”
“Poor woman? Please, she was the one flirting. I was just being—”
“Charming,” she said.
So Harper thought he was charming. He smiled.
“See. There’s that grin.” She was having a good time ribbing him.
“What grin?” he said, trying to force his lips to stay still, neutral, but he was doing a terrible job at it. He liked that Harper viewed him as charming, but he honestly hadn’t been flirting with the woman. She had handled that all on her own. He’d simply remained polite and professional.
“That smile,” she said, her expression and tone jovial.
Down the hall and around the corner the elevator dinged.
They looked at each other and said, “Randy,” in unison.
Deck prayed it was him. He got to his feet, then offered Harper a hand and helped her up.
A man about their age with brown hair came walking down the hall juggling two brown paper grocery bags in his arms.
He glanced up, his gaze landing on Harper, and then did a double take.
He froze.
“Hey, Randy,” she said.
Randy dropped the bags and bolted.
“Come on, man. Don’t make me chase you,” Deckard hollered after him as he took up pursuit.
Randy sprinted around the corner and frantically pressed the elevator buttons. He looked up, saw Deckard coming for him, and dodged into the stairwell. Deckard followed. Randy rounded the first set of stairs and nearly bowled into an elderly woman wearing a leotard, leggings, and legwarmers. Trying not to take her out, Randy shifted sideways, lost his balance, and tumbled down the remaining few steps, landing in a pile on the platform.
Deckard jumped down. “Love the legwarmers,” he said to the lady, and then looked to Randy. “Look, dude. We just want to ask you a few questions. We mean you absolutely no harm.”
“That’s why you’re wearing a gun.” Randy lifted his chin.
“I’m a PI,” he said. “Required for my occupation.” He offered Randy his hand and helped him to his feet.
Randy brushed his hands off on his jeans. “A PI?” he said. “Who are you working for?”
“I’m working for Miranda Forester. Just trying to prove she wasn’t the one who botched the evidence.”
“Look, man. I’m sorry about what happened to Miranda, but I can’t go there. I talk to you and I could end up dead.”
“Dead?” Deckard frowned. “Look, whatever you say is safe with us. I won’t tie anything back to you. You obviously know Harper, so I’m going to assume you know Miranda as well.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What happened to her wasn’t right.” She was innocent, and there was something far more sinister at play than he’d expected. He wouldn’t rest until he figured it out, and it was starting to look like Randy was the key to opening the next door of this crazy maze. “Please just talk with us. I’ll keep it in full confidence.”
“You really have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Randy said.
