WEDNESDAY, 12:15 P.M.
BRIDGER COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE
Harper sat with Meghan to view the images she’d taken, only greatly magnified with special software. Though others had looked at them, crime scene photos were part of her training, and she might as well do something useful. Perhaps she’d spot something unusual or significant that could help them.
But with thoughts of Heath facing off with the person who could be the killer, she struggled to concentrate.
Her cell rang. Emily. Harper stood to stretch her legs. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Never better. I slept in. It feels so weird to finally sleep in my own bed.” Emily sighed. “Can I just say that despite all this nasty business at the end, I loved the months of camping with you. It was the experience of a lifetime. Like you said, maybe we can do it again one day. That is, when you’re finally home.”
“About coming home, I have some news on that front. They’re checking out someone who could be the killer. If it’s him, then it’s over, and I can come back.”
“Harper, that’s great news.”
“If it’s him, it’s good news.” She held on to that hope.
“They haven’t found them. At least they haven’t told me they have.” The image of Sophie’s face—eyes vacant, body lifeless—invaded her mind again. A sudden wave of grief washed over her. She kept her emotions at bay, wanting her conversation with Emily to be upbeat.
“Maybe it’s premature, but I’m so relieved,” Emily said. “I can’t wait for you to be safe. I can’t wait for you to be back home where you belong.”
Harper needed to change the subject. “Please let me know what the neurologist says. Is your appointment tomorrow?” She realized too late that Emily probably didn’t want to think about it. Learning about possible seizure issues had to be terrifying. At the same time, it was good the doctors had pinpointed the problem so she could have a thorough examination at home and get the right medications.
“Yeah . . . about that. My appointment isn’t until next week.”
“Oh?”
“I did have a reason why I needed to get back though. I have to attend a gala at a museum. Along with several other creative types, I’m speaking. My book, Fire and Ash, is being featured.”
“Oh, Emily, that sounds like a big deal. When is the gala?”
“Saturday night. It’s in Dallas.”
“What? And you didn’t tell me?” So much for them not keeping secrets. Harper would have to get a plane ticket and head home soon—that is, if Emily even wanted her to go. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to pressure you into returning before you were ready. I wanted you to come back with me, but not because you felt obligated to attend the gala.”
“It sounds like you’ve known about this for a while.”
“Yes. I learned about it when we first started on our tour of national parks. But come on, it’s not like you’ve attended all my events. It’s really not a big deal.”
Of course it was. “I still think you should have told me, and we could have headed home together. Maybe you’d still have your Airstream.” Harper wished she hadn’t brought that up.
Emily sighed. She spoke to someone else, then directed her words to Harper. “Sorry, Michelle is here to pick me up. We’re going shopping. I need a new dress for the event. I never mentioned it because you needed time to focus on getting better. I wasn’t sure if that meant staying on the road longer than we had planned, so I didn’t bring up the gala. Then there wouldn’t be any pressure to rush back. I hope you understand that I didn’t tell you for your own benefit.”
Sometimes Emily amazed her. Her sister was selfless. Emily had practically put aside her life—including any real dating prospects—for a year for Harper. She would have a hard time not carrying a measure of guilt though—her issues had almost kept her sister from this gala and it sounded like Emily was excited to go.
“Thank you, Emily, for being the best kind of person. The best sister. I’m so relieved that you get to attend the gala.” Harper chuckled. “And that you finally told me about it. I know they’ll love you and your book.”
Emily scoffed, teasing Harper. “You haven’t even read the book.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you understood why.” A smidgeon of guilt pinged her heart. Emily’s mysteries involved murder, after all, and Harper had needed a break.
“I do understand. Please don’t feel like you have to be there. I’m not going alone.”
“So who’s the lucky guy?” Harper had a feeling Emily was keeping another secret.
“Excuse me? I didn’t say anything about a guy.”
“You didn’t have to. I figured it out. So who’s attending the gala with you?” Harper wished she could be there now.
“My old editor, actually. He’s flying into Dallas and will meet me there.”
Emily laughed. “My previous editor. We’ve known each other a long time, but he took a job with a different publisher. That frees us up to explore a different kind of relationship.”
“Wait. He took a different job? Are you saying he did that so that you could date?”
Emily chuckled. “I haven’t been home to date, but now instead of talking only about the book, we’ve been chatting about personal stuff. What we would do when I returned home. Initially, I wasn’t sure it would go anywhere, so I didn’t tell you that either or else I never would have heard the end of it.”
How could Emily have kept this a secret too? When Harper got back, she and Emily would have to have a good, long talk about sisters and secrets. “And you were flirting with Heath.”
“Harper!”
Meghan cleared her throat and gestured toward the door. The subject of their conversation had stepped into the room, a mixture of frustration, regret, and relief on his face. How much had he heard?
“Em. I gotta go. Heath is back. I’ll call you when I know something.” She ended the call.
“Well?” she asked.
“We may have found the killer.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Still, he didn’t sound completely sure. Trying to read Heath’s expression, she eased into the seat next to Meghan.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to Harper. “There’s something else.”
“Well, what is it?”
“He committed suicide.”
“Oh.” So they couldn’t ask him about the hikers. Where he’d left Sophie’s body. Couldn’t ask him why. “I had held on to hope that at least Chase was still alive and being kept somewhere and that we could find out where.”
“Me too.” He released a tenuous breath.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t want to let my guard down until we know for sure.”
“Wait, I thought we knew it was him.”
“We found the weapon that looks like the one in the image. Ballistics will tell us if it’s the one that killed Arty. But not Sophie, because we don’t have a body or bullet to compare with. We found clothes. They look like the same ones the hunter was wearing in the pictures you took. They’ll have to process the scene to see if the honeymooners were there at his house.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t know, exactly. You took great pictures, Harper, but by those alone, I can’t tell if it’s Donny or someone else. I know forensics will try to use the images. The state lab probably has software to do that comparison. Still, it seems he went to a lot of trouble to try to kill you. And now it’s all too easy. We get a tip, which is hearsay, but we go to follow up and the guy killed himself?”
Easy and convenient. If only her father’s murder had been so cut-and-dried. They never found the killer.
She stood up and paced the cubicle. “And what does the sheriff think?”
“He is leaning toward believing all the evidence will show Donny committed the crime. He was seen with the victim hours before her death, though that still needs to be confirmed. He had a rifle that looks exactly like the murder weapon in his possession. He’s a hunter and would know how to use that rifle and shoot from a long distance. From that perspective, it all adds up.” Heath stood in front of Harper to block her pacing and took her hands in his. “I know you want to go home. You need to get back to your life. You can do that anyway, Harper. And . . . I think you should go.”
At his words, truth rose up in her—truth that went against all her resolve. She’d ignored it but had to face it now. Harper wanted this to be over more than anything—not so she could go home but so she and Heath could start something new and fresh without danger shadowing them.
But what did it matter? Heath wanted her to go. She saw the truth in his eyes.
Was he was urging her to go home because he wanted her to be safe? Or because he simply believed she wanted to go and he wanted her to be happy? As far as something between the two of them, Harper certainly hadn’t encouraged Heath with the way she’d reacted to his kiss.
So this was it, then . . .
“Okay. I mean, it sounds like they found him, and I only ever wanted to make sure justice was served for Sophie. Besides, I’m worried about Emily.”
Harper hoped he didn’t see the hurt and confusion in her eyes.