Jack watched her face. The way her eyes narrowed, the way her mouth formed a little O. The way her skin paled until she looked almost sick. Her blue eyes stood out in bright contrast, rimmed in red. Her hands—her whole body—shook.
Garrison’s question hung in the air like the scent of burned dinner.
“I didn’t do anything with the bodies.” Harper’s voice was a whisper. “I left them there.”
“I can understand what happened.” Garrison’s tone was placating, but Jack wasn’t buying it. He hoped Harper wasn’t either. “You panicked. You had to hide them.”
“I swear, I didn’t—”
“I just can’t figure out how you got them in the car. Did someone help you? Did Red—?”
“He’s an old man, Garrison.” Jack’s voice was too loud. He tried to tamp down his anger. “He uses a walker. And he was sick. Red couldn’t possibly have helped anybody move bodies.”
“Someone else, then.” Garrison stepped forward.
Sam stood and laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
Garrison ignored his wife, kept watching Harper.
“I swear,” Harper said, “I didn’t do anything with them. I… I… I left them right there. I called…” She swallowed, glanced at Jack. “I called 911. I reported a disturbance at the house. Like I told you before. You can check that, right?”
Jack would do anything right now to get her out of this mess. Anything. If only he could figure out how. But even if he could keep Garrison from following if she bolted out the door, Jack wouldn’t be able to hold him off long enough for her to get away. If she did disappear into the woods, eventually she’d be found.
She was trapped.
“Call,” she said. “Find out if a call came in, if anybody went out to the house.”
“I can check, Harper,” Garrison said, “but there’s no reason to, because the bodies weren’t found at the house. They were found stuffed in the trunk of a Cadillac in a parking garage in a little town off I-70.”
“No.” Her head shook violently. “No, that makes no sense. I left them in the living room.” She looked at Jack. “I didn’t touch them. How could I touch them?” Her eyes filled with tears and terror. He wrapped an arm around her, and this time, she didn’t push him away.
Jack glared at Garrison over her head. “How do you think this tiny woman moved two grown men, two dead bodies, into a car?”
“An accomplice, I assume,” Garrison said.
She sobbed into Jack’s chest. He held her tighter. Held her for all he was worth. Because she was the victim here. Everything she’d said convinced him of that. How could Garrison not see it?
“This is ridiculous,” Jack said. “Where would she have gotten a Cadillac?”
At that, Harper sniffed and turned to Garrison. “Red’s car, right?” She looked at Jack. “It was Red’s car. I left it… It was in the garage when I left.”
“I’m sorry, but the story doesn’t work,” Garrison said. “Who would leave two bodies in the house for you to find, then remove them after you left?”
“I don’t know! I don’t…” She took a deep breath, then another. She swallowed, stepped away, and focused on Jack. “You have to take care of Red for me. Don’t let Derrick get his hands on him. Derrick can’t be trusted.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Jack said, though he had no idea how.
“No. It’s not.” Her gaze darted around the room—Garrison, Sam, Jack. Her eyes were wide, her lower lip trembling. “It’s not going to be okay.”
Garrison said, “Harper, why don’t you—?”
“Promise me.” She held Jack’s gaze. “Whatever happens, promise me you won’t let Derrick have Red. He’ll kill him. If you care about him at all, if you ever cared about me—”
“I never meant…” He stepped toward her, but she backed up, bumped into the counter.
“Don’t. Just, please… Red doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t remember the bodies. He doesn’t know about the antifreeze. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
Jack wanted to reach for her, but everything in her stance told him not to. So he nodded. “I’ll take care of him. And I’ll get you a good lawyer—”
“That’s enough.” Garrison’s raised voice had them both turning to face him. “Sit down. Both of you. Now.” He looked at his wife. “You, too.”
Sam’s eyebrows hiked, but she slid back into her seat.
After Harper perched on the edge of her chair, Jack sat beside her.
Garrison remained standing. He took a deep breath and ran his hand over his head. “Okay.” But then he said nothing else.
Jack rested his hand palm-up on the table between him and Harper. She glanced at it. Then slid her hand into it. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
Tears slid down her cheeks. Her mouth was pinched at the corners, her lips white and pressed together.
This was too much. He still didn’t understand any of it. Garrison seemed to be wrestling, too.
“Let’s say you’re telling the truth,” Garrison said.
Harper wiped her tears. “I swear, I would never—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m not saying I believe you. I’m just throwing it out there as a possibility. Maybe Derrick did it.”
She sniffed. “That’s what I thought at first, because he was the only one who knew about the attack. And maybe he was trying to frame me, to discredit me, in case I told anybody about the poison.”
Garrison’s eyes narrowed. “You thought that at first? What changed?”
“I just can’t imagine it. I keep seeing it in my head, and I can’t…”
“He’s the nicest guy,” Garrison said. “Kept to himself.”
“Said the neighbors of every serial killer ever,” Jack supplied.
“I know.” Her eyes squeezed closed, unable to face the obvious truth. “I couldn’t imagine Emmitt killing anybody, either. But he did.”
Sam, who’d been nearly silent for the entire conversation, tapped on the table. “What I don’t understand is why somebody would break in, leave the bodies, and then take them after you left. That doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree,” Garrison said. “If Derrick did it, and if he was trying to frame you, why not leave the bodies there?”
“But that doesn’t make sense, either,” Jack said. “If he were trying to frame her, leaving two bodies in her living room doesn’t work. I mean”—he focused on Harper—“they weren’t shot there, right? That’s what you said.”
“There was no blood on the floor. And I would have heard gunshots.”
Garrison paced, seemed to be talking to himself. “If somebody wanted to frame you… We’re assuming the bodies were found in the old man’s car. But why would they…?”
Jack waited for Garrison to explain what he’d just said. Instead, the other man paced and muttered incoherently. Then, he froze and faced Harper. “You’re saying Red owned a Caddy, right?” When she nodded, he considered that. “The Cadillac at the airport had no plates, and the VIN numbers had been filed off. So whoever left it didn’t want it traced back to you or Red.”
“If they’re trying to frame her, then why do that?” Jack asked.
“My first thought”—Garrison focused on Harper—“is that somebody did it to protect you. Or you did it to protect you.”
“I swear—”
“I heard your story,” Garrison said. “I’m not saying I believe it. I’m just trying to work it out. It doesn’t make sense.”
The four of them were silent. Jack tried to fit all the details he’d heard in the last hour into the larger puzzle. There was a big piece missing. He didn’t know what it was, and a glance at Harper’s confused expression told him she didn’t either.
Nothing had been solved. But Jack was convinced of one thing. Harper wasn’t a murderer. She was a sweet, caring, innocent woman trying to protect an old man who was no relation to her, but whom she loved.
He’d stand by her forever. No matter what happened next.