WEDNESDAY, 12:15 P.M.
GRANITE RIDGE CAMPGROUND
A knock came at the camper door.
Where was Emily? Harper groused, then got out of bed to answer the door. Harper’s heart jumped.
“Detective Moffett?”
“Ms. Reynolds.” The detective peered up at her, all serious as usual. All official business.
“Call me Harper, please.” Should she invite the detective in? Nah. “I hope you’ve discovered some evidence of the crime.”
“Not yet. I’ve arranged for you to meet with a forensic artist. She’s one of our deputies at the county office. I would have called, but I don’t have your number.”
The detective probably hoped she would be invited in. She wanted to see inside the camper because she remained skeptical of Harper. “As it turns out, I don’t have a phone right now.” She needed to get a new one next time she went to town. It was funny that Heath had gotten her a camera, but she still didn’t have a cell.
“Right. We have your phone, actually. It’s not in working condition, so you’d probably need to get a new one anyway while we hold on to it in case we need it for evidence. As for today, if you can come in with me, the artist will have time to work with you this afternoon.”
Moffett’s words surprised Harper. She had doubted the investigators would follow through with her request. “Sure. I need to change into something besides sweats. Has anyone reported a missing mother or sister or friend?”
“No.”
“Okay. Give me a few minutes to change.”
Moffett nodded. “I’ll wait in my vehicle.”
Harper shut the door and headed to her closet, closing the bedroom door behind her. This could be the break they needed.
“Harper?” Emily banged the RV door shut. “There’s a deputy outside. What’s she doing there?”
The pocket door to the bedroom slid open.
“I’ll be meeting with a forensic artist today. Detective Moffett came to pick me up.” Harper searched the small closet for something decent to wear. If only she could grab a quick shower too, but that would take too long with the deputy waiting. She wished, too, that she’d cleaned up before Heath had surprised her.
Emily sank to the bed. “That’s good. Yeah, I guess that’s good. I had kind of hoped we could go home tomorrow. Maybe after you meet with the artist we can finish getting ready.”
She hadn’t told Emily that going back to Missouri wasn’t an option yet, at least for Harper.
“Look, Em . . .”
“I hate it when you call me that. You only call me that when you know I won’t like what you’re going to say.”
“That’s not true. I call you that for other reasons too. I call you that as a term of endearment. Because I love you. That’s beside the point. I have to stay. I’m not going anywhere until I know this murder is solved.”
“What?”
“I know you’re disappointed. But you’re a writer. Seems to me you’d want to see this investigation through too. But if you really want to go home, I think you should go, and I’ll stay. I don’t want to be the one to keep you here. You’ve been the best sister to come with me on this trip.”
“Yeah, see how well that turned out. I bailed on you when I should have been with you.”
“You had a deadline. I understood. I’m the one who made the mistake—hiking that trail alone.” Business-casual slacks and shirt in hand, she sat next to her sister. “I think now it’s time I cope with my issues on my own.” Though she had been advised repeatedly to seek support from family and friends.
But enough was enough. She’d spent a year avoiding everything that reminded her of violent crime. Supposedly that would help her gain control over the flashbacks and nightmares. Push away the guilt that consumed her and impeded her ability to function as a normal person. She sighed.
“By sticking around here? Why?”
“Come on, I think you know why. Dad’s killer wasn’t caught. I think it’s time I stop running from the bad that happens in this world—the bad that happened to me—and face what’s happening now head-on. But more importantly, I need to stick around to make sure justice is served for that woman who was killed out there. The way things are going, I’m not sure the sheriff is going to see this through. He’s skeptical of me, for one thing. And that doesn’t sit well with me.” Harper shrugged. “More than that, I can’t be that woman anymore. I can’t be the person who lives and does nothing when someone else dies.”
“You’ve always felt guilty for living, which is ridiculous!”
“Is it?” How did she bring this up without dredging up the pain? How much Emily’s words still hurt her was sobering. “Maybe it’s not about that anymore. You once told me that if I had been brave and looked to see who had shot Dad, that the man would have been caught.” Harper pursed her lips, feeling the wound open up and pain surge in her throat. She didn’t want to drive a wedge between her and Emily after they’d come so far. “So I would think you, of all people, would understand my need to stay until it’s over.”
Emily said nothing. Seconds ticked by. “I . . . I never should have said that. It was stupid and I’m sorry. We were kids. I was hurt over Dad. But hearing you say all this, I understand. It tells me that you’re better now. That taking the time off was good for you. But, Harper, even if you’re better, even though you feel like this time you can make it right by sticking around, you don’t have to stay. The sheriff isn’t asking you to do this. Once he has the picture of the woman, he’ll probably tell you to go home. Besides, where are you going to live? How will you live?”
“Wow, really? I could live here in this, your vintage camper”—she offered Emily a pleading smile—“at least for a while. I have a few funds left, and if I run out I can get a job.”
“Doing what?”
“What I do best. Taking pictures. I noticed Detective Moffett, the investigator, took a few, but I wasn’t impressed. I could do better.” And with those words, Harper realized that finally, she actually missed her job as a crime scene photographer. That she was eager to get back into it if the opportunity arose.
Emily scoffed. “You really think a sheriff who believes you’re lying about a crime, either that or you’ve lost your mind, is going to hire you as his crime scene photographer?”
Harper refused to let Emily’s words hurt. She hadn’t meant them like that. “I have to try. Take the truck and head home, if you want.”
“I don’t go with you one day and look at the trouble that happens. No. I can’t leave you alone again, especially not here in this campground surrounded by strangers coming and going. Ken is nice, but he’s only one person and he isn’t here all the time.”
“Who?”
“Ken. Mr. Stein. The guy at the campground office. Fixed the lock on the door? Hello?”
“Fine.” Harper brushed her hair, then pulled it into a ponytail. “Stay if you want, but I’m not making you.”
“One month.”
“Four.” She hoped it wouldn’t take that long, but crimes weren’t solved as quickly as they were on TV. If it went longer, she’d renegotiate.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Two and a half.”
“Three months, Emily.”
“And if the killer isn’t caught by then?”
“We’ll figure it out.” Harper slid across the bed and hugged her sister. “It’s going to be all right.”
It felt good to reassure Emily for once. She’d been lost in her own morbid memories for so long. When was the last time she had comforted anyone?
“Can I make one more request?” her sister asked. “Can we move the camper into town? I saw they had some campgrounds there. I’d like to be closer to civilization.”
Harper laughed. “I think that’s a great idea. While I’m gone, why don’t you try to find a place and make a reservation, though you know that might be kind of hard this time of year.”
A knock came at the door again. Detective Moffett was growing impatient. “Would you mind telling the detective I’ll drive myself in? There’s no reason for her to wait.”
Emily nodded and disappeared. Harper quickly dressed as she listened to Emily giving the detective the news. Then Emily stepped back into the room.
“There could be cancellations at one of the campgrounds,” Emily said. “Or you could see if the sheriff’s department could help you. I mean, you witnessed a murder, remember?”
Now Harper understood Emily’s true reasons for wanting to move closer to town. Emily wrote murder mysteries and had murder on her mind a lot. She was afraid for both their lives. Maybe Harper was wrong to stay and see this through if Emily insisted on staying with her. She’d lost Dad. Mom had died from a heart attack three years ago.
I can’t lose Emily too . . .