THURSDAY, 6:30 A.M.
EMERALD M GUEST RANCH
In the more-than-adequate bathroom, Harper wiped away the condensation on the mirror to study her reflection, which still looked haggard even after a long, hot shower.
Oh . . .
She wished she hadn’t looked. No wonder Heath kept watching her at the hospital.
At least her stitches remained intact. At least she had a place to stay. A good place where she felt safe. Though she was beyond frustrated that she hadn’t been allowed to see her sister, she was grateful that Emily was safe and guarded.
Soon enough, the sheriff would learn she shouldn’t be a suspect.
She would have to bide her time.
In the meantime, the murderer was still out there in the area or he’d fled the region, fearing capture. What a joke. Nobody was even looking for him yet.
At this rate, she would never get dressed, so Harper pushed the thoughts aside. Evelyn was so sweet. The woman was distraught over her son, yet she had found time to assist Harper. She’d brought her some clothes. A knit peach top and nice jeans. A few items accidentally left behind by Willow, Heath’s sister-in-law.
Evelyn reassured Harper that Willow wouldn’t mind, but the woman was a lot taller than Harper. She slipped into the clothes but had to cuff the jeans. After dressing, she tried to make herself as presentable as possible, but with all the bruises and scratches, she wasn’t sure it was worth the effort. She intended to crawl into that woods-themed quilt-covered bed and sleep for a while. The only problem was, she had the feeling nightmares and flashbacks would keep her awake.
Evelyn’s and Heath’s generosity and kindness might be the force that cracked open her strong and determined façade. She was trying to stay strong, especially for Emily, but she really wanted to crumble. Curl into a ball somewhere. Not give up, not completely. But she needed time to grieve and to fight the dark depression that threatened to close in on her. Maybe a few hours in that bed would be enough, but she didn’t think so.
Before she tried the bed, she wanted to grab something to drink from the kitchen. Her mouth was parched.
She reached for the door and heard a light knock, then someone said, “Harper?”
Tension lurking in Heath’s tone set her on edge. She eased the door open and took in his guarded demeanor. “Is everything okay?”
He tried to smile but failed and seemed to struggle for words.
Her heart pitched. “Did something happen to Emily?”
That strong wall she’d built around herself was about to collapse.
“No. Detective Moffett is here.”
She searched his face, looking for some hint as to why. “It’s not good news.”
“She didn’t tell me why she’s here. My guess is to ask questions.” Heath stepped aside as if he would walk her to her interrogation.
This can’t be happening.
God, please don’t let her take me into town to the sheriff’s department for more questioning. I already told the detective everything at the hospital.
Taking a few long breaths, she mentally prepared herself to face the detective.
Stay calm. It’s going to be all right. You didn’t commit a crime. Answer the detective’s questions and let her discover you’re innocent. You’re the victim.
Before they could leave the hallway and enter the great room, Heath slowed and turned to face her. “It’s going to be all right, Harper. Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”
He tried to reassure her, but his words only served to scare her more.
“Let’s get this over with.” She pressed by him and found not only Moffett but also Sheriff Taggart. The detective paced the big room. Harper had seen that stance before—Moffett was confident, resolved. She wanted to nail Harper. To charge her, if she could.
Harper mustered the last of her reserves to face the woman detective who had something to prove.
“Detective Moffett. What can I do for you?”
“We’re continuing to process the crime scene at the base of Granite Ridge.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She hugged herself. “Whoever did this needs to be caught.”
She hated how long the cogs of law enforcement processing could delay the tracking of a criminal. A murderer, in this case.
“There were no skid marks, which means you didn’t even try to stop.”
“Now hold on!” Heath’s voice rose as he stepped between Harper and the detective.
“It’s all right, Heath.” She pressed a hand on his arm and urged him back to her side. Moffett hadn’t given her the Miranda warning, which she should only do if Harper was both under arrest and also being interrogated. Had the detective gotten ahead of herself? “I wasn’t driving, Detective. So it wasn’t me who drove through the guardrail. Do you plan to charge me? Do I need a lawyer?”
Taggart’s cell rang, and he tugged it out before slipping to another part of the room to talk.
“No,” Heath said, his arms crossed. “There isn’t enough evidence here.”
“Yet.”
The sheriff approached and lowered his cell. “Harper, your sister is awake.”
A few seconds ticked by as Harper absorbed his words. Relief swelled in her heart.
“Oh, thank God.” She covered her face to hide her tears of joy and turned right into Heath’s broad chest, lingering there a few moments until she could get her composure. Then she stepped away and gave him a tenuous smile. A silent thank-you for his support. For standing up for her. Since he was a deputy, would his actions cost him?
“Is she all right?” Heath asked.
Harper had been so exuberant about hearing Emily was awake, she hadn’t thought about the possibility of other complications.
“Well enough to speak to the deputy guarding her against another attempt on her life—”
“You mean by me. That’s why he wouldn’t let me see Emily.”
Taggart gave a subtle nod. “That, and I wanted someone to interview her before you had a chance to speak with her. She corroborated your story. Said you were both locked in the camper and someone with malicious intentions drove off. You both had to escape through the emergency window, which is how she received the traumatic blow to her head.”
“I need to see her. Are you done with me? Are you ready to look for the person behind this?”
Detective Moffett appeared relieved, which surprised Harper. She thought the detective had been too eager to charge her with this crime. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re innocent. I was simply doing my job.”
“No hard feelings. But now you can focus on finding the actual killer?”
The detective frowned.
Incredulity rolled through Harper.
“Sheriff Taggart.” Strong and intimidating, Heath’s voice boomed through the great room. “I agree with Harper that we need to start looking for the real criminal behind this. Harper is the only witness to that shooting, and last night’s incident appears to be an attempt on her life. You must see that by now.”
“I’ve been following all the leads, McKade.”
“The wrong leads, if you ask me.”
Taggart glared at Heath. “Since Ms. Reynolds has been targeted, I’m going to assign you to stay with her, McKade. Her and her sister. You’re their security while she remains here and in danger.” Then he turned his gaze on her. “You’re free to head home to Missouri, Ms. Reynolds, if you so choose. I’m happy to contact law enforcement there on your behalf for protection services, if needed. But while you’re here, McKade will stick with you.”
Heath stiffened. His reaction surprised Harper. “I think we need to talk about that first. Maybe a safe house would be in order.”
“Sure, we can talk, but you have your marching orders. Ms. Reynolds, I’m sorry for the undue stress my department put you under, but I hope you understand our reasons.”
Harper eyed the sheriff. “By way of an apology, how would you feel about letting me process the scene from last night—after it’s been officially processed, that is?”
“I don’t know what you think you’ll gain by that.”
Harper didn’t allow the sheriff’s or detective’s intimidating postures to affect her next words. She had to bulldoze her way through if she was going to get anywhere. “Another set of eyes won’t hurt your efforts. I can help catch the man I witnessed murdering a woman, if you’ll let me.”
“That’s not going to happen.”