“Talk to me, McKenna. Update me on Harper Westbook.”
Brian pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, wondering why he’d answered the phone. The last person he wanted to talk to was Gage. He’d made the mistake of having one drink too many after a particularly heinous night and spilled his guts to Gage. Not that he expected Gage to spill his guts to anybody. He knew the value of keeping secrets. Especially in the kind of work they did. Gage worked surreptitiously for the CIA, while Brian was FBI.
“Nothing to tell.”
“McKenna, surely you knew after your drunken ramblings, I’d do a little digging. She’s definitely a beauty. Her adult record is squeaky clean. However—”
“I know all about her juvenile record. She had a lousy home life. No kid should have to live like that. If you looked at her life since then, you know she’s been clean from the minute she turned eighteen.”
Gage sighed. “Yeah, I noticed. On paper, she’s the picture of a model citizen. But we both know anybody capable of murdering people is smart enough to cover their tracks or hire somebody to make sure nothing shows up on a cursory search. I want to believe Douglas and Ms. Patti would know if Harper’s guilty of what we suspect, but I don’t know. They’re too…”
“Trusting,” Brian finished Gage’s sentence. “I talked with Harper.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I’d had her under surveillance for a couple of days straight. She never put a foot wrong. So, I arranged to run into her. Literally. Took her for coffee afterward.” Brian shook his head, remembering how sweet and open Harper had been when they talked. “I’m beginning to think there’s been a mistake somewhere. Because the woman I’ve been watching, the woman I talked with, couldn’t hurt a fluffy bunny, much less killing several people.”
Gage muttered something under his breath, too low for Brian to hear, before saying, “I’m trying to convince my boss to give me some time off. I want to head to Shiloh Springs, figure out exactly who Harper Westbrook is. Because if she’s messing around with our family, I want her out of the picture before she has a chance to hurt Ms. Patti or any other Boudreau.”
“I don’t believe she’d hurt Ms. Patti. I swear, she acts like Ms. Patti walks on water. And Ms. Patti seems to care about Harper, too. Besides, I’ve already got somebody else backing me up on this.” He winced, remembering Heath catching him red-handed, watching Harper in the bakery.
“Who?”
“Heath.”
“What made you tell him? Or did he approach you?” Before Brian could answer, Gage laughed, a long belly laugh. “He caught you spying, didn’t he? Heath was always the sneaky one. And man, he loved to gloat when he caught you doing something you shouldn’t have. The only saving grace was he wasn’t a tattletale. So, he’s going to keep an eye on Harper too?”
“He’s keeping tabs on her when I’m not around. He’s got some time off, so he’s spending more time at the Big House with Douglas and Ms. Patti. For the record, he thinks we are off base. Doesn’t have another explanation for the facts I laid out to him, which is why he’s keeping his mouth shut and not telling his parents.”
Gage harrumphed. “We couldn’t tell them anything anyway. We don’t have any proof. Nothing but a photo showing Harper in the same vicinity of a murder. Oh, yeah, and she was also in the same locale of several other murders. Happenstance? Chance? We need to get rock solid evidence before we say anything.”
“I know. It’s just…” He trailed off, not sure what to say. What could he say—that he liked Harper? That he was attracted to a suspect, almost to the point of obsession? Maybe he should let Gage take over checking into Harper’s alibis, because he was afraid his objectivity surrounding the pretty blonde might be skewed. He desperately wanted her to be exactly what she seemed, a quirky artist with a sense of humor who made him laugh and smile more than he had in a long time.
“You like her. I get it, but don’t forget why you’re doing this. Do the job, prove one way or the other whether she’s innocent or guilty. If she’s as innocent as she seems, great. Date her, marry her, whatever. But, if it’s a façade, if she’s not as sweet as she appears, it means she’s capable of despicable acts and needs to be off the streets and more importantly, away from our family.”
Brian heard the not-so-subtle emphasis Gage put on the word. Yeah, seemed like he wasn’t the only one who thought of the Boudreaus as family. Funny, the impact of a few months with the Boudreaus was worth far more than his life with anybody else. He’d been shifted around from place to place, foster home to orphanage. Seen it all and done it all. Yet a few months with a loving, caring couple had shown him what life could be like, and it had left an indelible impact on him. Probably explained why he hadn’t been able to stop checking on them. Following each new boy that came to the Big House and secretly wishing he could have stayed.
Too late for those regrets now. It was time to focus on the job because this time it wasn’t simply another case. This one hit too close to home, involved people he did consider family.
“The Boudreaus must be protected, no matter what. Keep digging on your end. No need for you to head to Shiloh Springs, not yet. You’ve got resources I can’t touch. I’ve got a few feelers out too. Nobody caught onto Harper until we did, so we should be the ones to determine if we are onto something big or if this is simply an unnerving coincidence. But whatever it takes, we get to the truth about Harper Westbrook.”
“Honestly, man, I hope we are wrong because it’ll tear up Ms. Patti if Harper ends up being guilty.”
“We keep it from her, from all of them except Heath, who already knows. Don’t say anything until we have more facts, concrete evidence one way or another. Agreed?”
Gage sighed. “Agreed. If things go south, call me. I’m currently in the state so I can get there fast.”
“Thanks.” Without another word, Brian disconnected the call. He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the sofa cushions, staring at his laptop screen. At the picture of Harper Westbrook. It was from a social gathering at some art gallery in Oklahoma City, taken four months prior. She looked different, a little sophisticated and a little bohemian chic. Smiling at a tall, gray-haired man standing beside her, she appeared so full of life, joie de vivre, like she was on top of the world.
He’d thought it was simply another art exhibit, another party for the rich to toss around huge chunks of money for something to hang on their wall or display on a pedestal in their entryway, except for one little fact.
The man Harper was talking with at the gallery was murdered hours after the party. And Harper had been seen coming from his building around the time of the murder.
Harper’s eyes widened when Ms. Patti pulled up in front of a small cabin. The wooden steps led to a front porch that spanned the entire front of the place, though that wasn’t saying a lot. Maybe it was bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS on Dr. Who.
“Honey, I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside but give it a chance. I think you’ll be surprised.”
“Oh, I’m game. I’ve learned that appearances are often misleading. Lead on.”
Climbing from the car, she inhaled deeply, loving the scent of fresh pine and pure, clean air. Brilliant blue skies overhead with hints of fluffy white clouds gave her a feeling of contentment. The sunlight dappled through the trees, but there was enough she’d be able to paint. And from certain angles, the golden glow illuminated her surroundings with an ethereal sense of peace. She crossed her fingers, hoping the inside was even better than the outside, because this might actually be perfect.
Ms. Patti walked up the steps to the porch and turned the knob. Harper noted that it wasn’t locked. Shrugging, she followed her into the house and stopped. It was exactly how Ms. Patti had described it. Yes, it was small, but it held a wealth of potential.
“What do you think? Will this work?”
Instead of answering, Harper spun around in a joyous circle, laughter spilling from her. She felt giddy with excitement. Yes, the drive from her current apartment to this isolated cabin was nearly an hour, but it would be so worth the travel time if she could work here. She already felt more creative, as though she had a direct connection to the earth beneath her feet, and the sky above.
“It’s perfect!”
“Wonderful.”
Harper walked across the living space to the kitchen, which wasn’t more than a half dozen or so steps, smiling at the sight of the small stove. Only two burners, but that’d work because she didn’t plan on cooking much. If she had something to heat water for coffee or tea, she was a happy camper.
Already picturing how she’d rearrange the furniture in the way Ms. Patti had suggested earlier, she could picture exactly where she’d be working, painting and maybe even getting to work with clay, something she’d been experimenting with. Working with her hands, whether painting or digging her fingers into clay, gave her a sense of accomplishment. Knowing she’d created something that brought joy to another? Priceless.
“How’d you find this place, Ms. Patti? Is it one of your clients? Oh, wait, how much are they asking for it, because I really hope I can afford the rent.”
Ms. Patti laughed. “I guess you really do like it. First A, the place doesn’t belong to one of my clients. It belongs to us. B, it’s part of the ranch, although it’s rarely used. Mostly it’s a place for the visitors to stay if we get full up. Or when one of the boys needed a little privacy. I’m sure you get the picture.” It was said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes. “As far as the rent, well, that’s negotiable.”
“Negotiable?”
Ms. Patti nodded and gestured toward the chairs at the kitchen table. Harper slid onto one, bracing herself for the inevitable disappointment coming. Happened every time. She’d get her hopes up, think things were finally going her way and then, wham, the rug got pulled out from beneath her feet.
“I’m going to suggest a trade. One hopefully you’ll find works in both our favors.”
“I’m listening.”
“I won’t charge you any rent.” She raised a hand when Harper started to interrupt. “Wait, like I said, I’m suggesting a trade. Call it a quid pro quo. You get the place rent free for as long as you’d like in exchange for a commissioned painting.”
“A painting? You want one of my paintings? Ms. Patti, you don’t even need to ask. I’ll give you any of mine that you want. Well, except for my commissioned pieces, because those are already spoken for. But anything else I’ve done, it’s yours. Shoot, for access to this place rent free, you can have as many paintings as you want.”
Wow, can I sound any more desperate? But I really, really want this place.
“Harper, you need to stop thinking about your art as not being worth anything. Become a first-class businesswoman, in addition to being a wonderfully creative artist. I think your paintings are outstanding, and I expect they will increase in value, so I’m making a sound investment. But, as I said, I would like to have you do a commissioned piece in exchange for the use of the cabin.” She paused and looked around the cabin, a wistful expression on her face, as if whatever or wherever her thoughts were, it was a pleasant place.
“I know you’re right. It’s still sinking in that people find my paintings worth spending money on. To me, they’re a way of letting myself be free, I don’t know, unconfined. It’s hard to explain.”
“They are beautiful, and they have worth. Just like you. Anyway, I would like to commission a painting of the Big House for Douglas. I know you’re working on stuff for a show, correct? In that gallery in Austin? I don’t expect you to drop everything to work on this, but that is the cost of using this place.” Ms. Patti hesitated a second. “Unless you don’t find it a fair exchange?”
“Are you kidding? I’m getting the better end of this deal. You’ve done so much for me and this town, I would’ve done the painting simply by you asking. And now I really want to do the Big House for Douglas.” Harper pulled her phone from her pocket. “Do you have a problem with me taking some photos for reference? It helps me with getting the colors and shades right.”
“Whatever you need, dear. So, do we have a deal?”
Harper hesitated for a minute, before asking, “Do you have a problem if I sometimes spend a night or two here? I occasionally get caught up in a project and forget to sleep until it’s almost dawn. Being able to crash here—”
“Short of burning the place to the ground, honey, it’s yours for as long as you’d like.”
Harper wrapped her arms across her chest, unable to believe her luck. Maybe things were turning around for her. Getting a place to work on her art and meeting a new and fascinating guy.
“Thank you again, Ms. Patti. You don’t know how much this is going to change my world. I can’t wait to move my stuff in and get started working. My fingers itch to start painting.”
“Well, then, let’s get you back to your apartment, so you can get your stuff.”
Digging deep in the enormous purse Ms. Patti was never without, she pulled out a key ring with a single silver-colored key attached and handed it to Harper.
“Don’t you want me to sign a lease of something?”
Ms. Patti shook her head and smiled. “I think I can trust you. After all, I know where you live, and now I know where you work, too.”
Chuckling, she headed for the door, Harper trailing behind. Pulling the front door closed behind her, she inserted the key and turned it, hearing the sound of the lock engage. It was hers, at least for now. Her very own studio.
Could life get any better?