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“At first glance it looked like nothing had been touched,” Greyson said.
“But after that?” Harper asked.
Greyson looked at Deckard. “They were in your file cabinets.”
“How could you tell?” Deckard asked, definitely not questioning the man’s information, but, rather, how he knew.
“The dials were left on a different number sequence than you leave the three on.”
He always left them set on specific numbers so he could tell if someone ever got into the safe-style lock on them. “Could you tell which files they looked at?” Deckard leaned forward, and Harper did so in automatic unison.
“There was one lifted higher than the others,” Greyson said, his lips grim.
“Let me guess,” Deckard said. “Anne Marlowe’s file?”
Greyson nodded.
So, it was about them. They really must have ticked off the wrong person, but which of the people they talked to was it? “Hopefully, they did as they said and didn’t take anything out of it.”
“I know they didn’t take these,” Greyson said, pulling two files out of his leather messenger bag. He handed them to Deckard and Harper as she sat beside him, her leg inadvertently touching his on the bench seating at the table.
“What are these?” Deck asked, flipping the first folder open.
“Copies of the full police report and the autopsy report on Anne Marlowe.”
Harper’s jaw slackened. “How did you get those?”
Greyson took a long sip of his iced tea.
“Greyson has his ways of making things happen,” Riley said. “But he prefers to remain a man of mystery. Even from us,” she said, lifting her glass before taking a sip.
Neither looked at the other, but something was passing between his sister and Greyson. Deckard shook it off as a big brother and younger sister taunting, just in playful and often silent ways. “This will be a huge help. Beyond huge,” he said. “Thanks, Grey.”
Greyson dipped his head.
Harper looked over. “I know how we’ll spend our ride to Albuquerque.”
“Albuquerque?” Riley said.
“We’re going to interview people at the lab tomorrow,” Harper said. “So we figured we’d spend the night at my place in town.”
“You sure you don’t want to wait until the morning?” Riley said.
“You know I’m a night owl, not a rooster. I’d rather make the drive tonight,” Deckard said. Besides, he liked driving on the nearly abandoned roads—at least as far as he could go until he hit the highway, but even then, the lights of Albuquerque were spectacular. Much like the woman sitting beside him.
“If, and I completely believe it is,” Christian said. “If this is about you digging where someone wants to leave things untouched, you could be in danger at Harper’s.” He looked to Harper. “No offense to your place, but the ranch is probably safer.”
“I’ve got a good alarm and close neighbors,” she said.
“We’ll be fine,” Deck said.
“I sure hope so,” Riley said.
So did he. He’d feel much better when he knew who his adversary was. Going against an unknown was always harder, like chasing shadows.
THIRTY-NINE
AFTER THEY’D ALLtalked through the day they’d had and the investigations, Harper and Andi—both armed, just to be safe after the intruders today—headed out for the firepit while Deckard went to pack a bag for the trip.
