Harper looked around Chance’s office. She’d never actually been inside the courthouse, there’d never been a reason. The district attorney’s office was on the second floor, above the courtrooms. She’d met the assistant district attorney, who’d popped her head in the door for a few seconds before heading downstairs, ready to listen to a defendant’s attorney offer a plea deal. From their brief conversation, it sounded like they’d take it.
“It should only be a couple more minutes. I asked you to be here so we could go over a few things before Brian gets here.”
“No problem. I want to get this over, clear my name so I can get on with my life.”
Chance shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of his big leather chair, sat, and pulled out two manila folders and laid them on the desktop. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach tightened when she realized those files were about her. All the facts and information about her life. She winced, wondering if they held information about the years before she left home. The dreaded juvenile record she desperately tried to forget existed, from the time after she’d run far from Louisiana. She’d fought hard to put her past behind her. To take the shattered ruin of her childhood and teen years and turn them into something if not better, at least respectable.
While Chance gathered whatever it was he needed from his desk, Harper drew in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. Repeated this several times, drawing on the yoga techniques she’d learned, slowly drawing in air through her nose and breathing slowly out her mouth. Then she focused on loosening her muscles. Normally, she’d start with her feet and progressively move upward, alternating compressing and then relaxing the muscles. Closing her eyes, she visualized a place of calm. Sometimes it was a lazy river with a cool breeze blowing through her hair, feeling the sunshine warming her. Other times it was floating on a soft cloud, weightless, lifting into the sky without any cares. Simply allowing herself to become limp, without form, the soft sounds of gentle waves lapping against the shore lulling her to sleep.
But today her happy place was different than anything before. Today, she pictured her little cabin. She could hear the birds chirping, their song happy and free. Smell the fragrant scent of the pine trees where the cabin was secreted away from prying eyes, the familiar fragrance reminding her of being outdoors. Could feel the sunshine on her shoulders, almost taste the crisp fresh air. It had become a refuge, a sanctuary from her crazy life, and anytime she was there she felt a serenity and peace she wasn’t accustomed to.
“Harper?”
Heat rushed into her cheeks when she realized Chance had been calling her name. She’d been deep within her visualization exercises and hadn’t heard him. Sometimes she tended to zone out when she meditated. Of course, normally she was at home, not in her attorney’s office trying to come up with a proper defense to keep from going to prison.
“I’m sorry. I’m just…scared. Confused. I can’t believe anybody thinks I killed another person. No, five people. I can’t wrap my head around that.”
“We are going to figure out a way to prove you’re innocent, Harper. You haven’t been charged with any crime. The evidence Brian provided is circumstantial at best. A series of coincidences, while it might look suspicious, is not proof.”
“Okay. Good. What do you need me to do?”
“I’d like to ask you some questions before Brian gets here. I’m not going to lie, they’ll be invasive, and you’re going to have to tell me things you probably want forgotten. But we need to make sure anything a prosecutor wants to bring up we’ve got answers for. And since I am a prosecutor most of the time, I have a better than average knowledge of what they’ll be looking for.”
Yep, she’d been right. Chance had her sealed juvenile record. She wasn’t proud of it, but she’d done what she had to do to survive, and she had no intention of hiding it if it came up.
“Ask me. I’m an open book.”
The smile Chance gave her made her realize exactly why her new friend Tina had fallen hard and fast for this particular Boudreau. He had an open and warm demeanor, though she knew he could be a shark in the courtroom, as evidenced by his conviction record. She was counting on that predator being on her side, to help keep her free.
“Let’s start with the easy stuff. How long have you lived in Shiloh Springs?”
“Just over two years. I commute to Santa Lucia for work, but when Jill talked about her hometown, it sounded like a place I’d like to live.”
“Where did you live before moving to Shiloh Springs?”
“Um, Spring, Texas. Before that Katy. Before that, El Paso.”
“You’ve moved around quite a bit.” Chance made a couple of notes on a legal pad as he spoke.
“After I left home, I became a bit of a nomad, never staying in one place too long. Shiloh Springs is probably the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.” And wasn’t that sad, she thought.
“You’ve got an apartment in town?”
“Not actually within the city limits, but yes, it’s in Shiloh Springs County. I’ve had the same apartment since I moved here. It’s a bit of a commute for the job, but I love this town, so to me it’s worth the extra driving.”
“Momma mentioned you’ve set up a studio at the old lineman’s cabin. How’s that working out for you?” Chance looked up from his scribbles and grinned. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but that cabin has seen a lot of action through the years. It was a very popular hangout for my brothers when they wanted a place where they could be alone with a girl.”
Harper chuckled, imaging Ms. Patti’s chagrin. “And you never took advantage of the privacy, counsellor?”
“I plead the fifth.”
Their shared laughter helped Harper relax more. “It’s actually perfect as a studio. Small, not cluttered, enough space for me to set up the supplies and canvases and an easel. Great sunlight. When I want, I can move everything outside or work on the porch. Nobody disturbs me there, so I’m getting a lot of painting done.”
“I hear you might be getting an exclusive exhibition soon.”
Harper’s eyes widened at his words, wondering where he could have heard about it. Not many people knew, because she hadn’t wanted to tell folks and possible jinx everything. Then she realized where he’d probably heard the news.
“Jill told you.”
“Yes. She’s very proud of you.”
“I’m proud of her too. She’s done amazing things with the bakery.”
At the brisk knock on the door, she swung her head around, spotting Brian. “Y’all ready for me?
Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. He wasn’t going there.
“Come in, Brian. We’ve just been going over a few details.”
“I spent the morning with your folks, Chance. Drove straight here after that.”
Uh, oh. He’s been talking to Ms. Patti and Douglas? Why does that thought scare me half to death?
“Bet that was fun. Momma give you the third degree straight out, or go the more subtle route?”
Having been on the other end of Ms. Patti’s style of interrogation in the past, she wanted to smile at Chance’s words. Looked like he knew his mother well.
“She went straight for the throat.” Brian glanced at Harper before continuing. “Wanted to know what I was doing to prove Harper innocent.”
“Well, that’s what we’re doing here today. I’ve got a couple of ideas we can go over. Have you learned anything new?”
Brian shook his head, and Harper’s heart dropped. She hadn’t realized she’d gotten her hopes up until his response.
“Not since Harper pointed out the discrepancy in the photos from April. The hair color thing helped. I’m having the photo I received from the police analyzed, because either the date and time stamp is wrong, or—”
“We need to come up with an alternative explanation.” Chance pulled out copies of the photo Brian provided and the one from Harper’s phone, laying them side-by-side on his desk. “The highlights are two different colors. Hard to confuse purple and blue against her blond hair.” Chance turned to look at her. “Harper, explain to me exactly how you change the colors.”
“Well, I really don’t like putting chemicals in my hair, because a lot of them are harmful. But I love playing around with colors. So, my hairdresser suggested clip-in extensions. They’re easy: you simply open the clip, attach it to your hair near the root and close the clip.”
Reaching up, she grabbed one of the pink ones attached to her hair and loosened it, pulling it free, and handing it to Chance. He looked at it for a second like she’d handed him an alien baby from outer space, and she bit her cheek to keep from laughing. The extension was pre-curled, making it blended in with her hair since she kept it curly most of the time.
After turning it over in his hands a couple of times, he handed it to Brian, who did the same thing, looking at it closely, before handing it back to her. She clipped it back in place.
“Where do you get them? Are they hard to find or something common?”
“I get mine through my hairdresser because I want a better quality product. But anybody can buy them. They’re easy enough to find online at the major vendors. I think they might be available at beauty supply stores too.”
Chance nodded as if she’d confirmed something he’d suspected. “Harper, I want you to look at the picture again. The one Brian provided. Especially look at the woman’s hair. Tell me what you see. Anything that might stand out as unusual.”
“Sure.” Chance handed her the picture and she studied it. Of course, she remembered it vividly, since they were using it to say she’d been someplace she’d never been. The black blouse and plaid skirt didn’t belong to her. She’d never own something like that. Even the more conservative outfits she wore for her day job weren’t as boring as this getup. Plus, this was supposedly taken in Dallas the day she’d driving up to the Kimbell Museum, and she hadn’t brought a change of clothes. The trip had been totally spontaneous, a spur of the moment whim, and she’d been wearing a maxi dress with a bright print and strappy white sandals.
Something about the photo was off, though she couldn’t figure out what was bothering her. It looked like her. Same facial features, same eye color. If she didn’t know it wasn’t her in the picture, she’d swear it was her too. Except it wasn’t. Come on, think, what’s bothering you, Harper? Think. Something about the hair. Wait a second.
“Chance, do you have a magnifying glass? I think I see something, but I need to enlarge it.”
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“Hang on,” Brian pulled out his phone. “I have all the pictures here. You might be able to enlarge it.” He swiped past screen after screen until he got to the right one and handed her the phone. Enlarging it with her thumb and forefinger, she focused in on the hairline, and a rush of excitement filled her.
“Take a look at this, especially the hairline.” She passed the phone back to Brian. I can’t be sure, but I think it’s a wig.”
“What?” Chance and Brian both spoke at the same time. Brian studied his phone, while Chance grabbed the printed copy. She waited excruciating minutes, hope beginning to rise. They already believed her about not being in Dallas, because she had provided the photo about the different extensions, but if she was right, it threw a lot of the other incriminating evidence into doubt.
“I can’t be one hundred percent positive, but I think you’re right, Harper.” Chance started scribbling on his pad again, his pen moving quickly across the page. “I’m going to send this to a photo specialist. Make sure that one, the picture is authentic and not photoshopped, and two, have them enlarge the hairline area. There appears to be a darker color under the edge. Raises more questions than answers.”
“I agree.” Brian grinned at Harper. “Good catch.”
“Yeah, it raises doubts, but what about the others? I don’t have explanations for those.” Harper slumped in the chair, wishing this whole nightmare would disappear like it never happened. Of course, it would be even better if nobody had died, but she had no control over the actions of others.
Chance glanced over at Brian. “Have you been able to find any connection between the victims? Anything to tie them together in any way? Mutual friends or business acquaintances?”
He shook his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “That’s one of the things stumping both me and Gage.”
“Gage?” Chance straightened at the name. “Gage Newsome is helping you?”
“I forgot I hadn’t told you. Told Ms. Patti and Douglas this morning, after they gave me the third degree. I can see where you got your interrogation techniques, counsellor, because you learned from the best.”
“True. They have different styles, but they both get the answers they want. How’d Gage get involved? This kind of case wouldn’t usually interest the CIA.”
“CIA? Have I fallen down the rabbit hole and landed in La La Land? First the FBI and now the CIA?” Harper rubbed her hands across her face before staring at them, noting the fine staining of paint around the index and middle fingers. “I’m starting to feel like Public Enemy Number One.”
“Don’t worry, Harper. Gage is simply a friend. Occasionally our paths cross when we’re working a case. I mentioned Shiloh Springs popping up and we started talking. He’s got contacts and resources I don’t and vice versa.” Brian waved a hand toward Chance. “Besides, he’s one of Ms. Patti’s Lost Boys too. Chance knows him well.”
“Seems like Momma’s Lost Boys are starting to crawl out of the woodwork. I guess Nick will be walking through the front doors of the Big House next.”
“Nick? I don’t think I ever met him.”
“Probably not. He didn’t come to the ranch until after you left.”
“Guys, glad you’re having a nice reunion, but can we get back to figuring out a way to keep me from heading to the Texas State Pen?”
“Sorry, you’re right.” Chance shot Brian a look Harper didn’t even try to interpret. “You and I need to have a long talk when this is all over.”
Chance shuffled through the papers from the folder on his desk and pulled out a stack held together by a paper clip. It appeared thinner than the rest of the stacks to Harper.
Brian gave Chance an abrupt nod, then gestured toward the papers Chance held. “Let’s look at the most recent homicide. Jeremiah Wilson. Local businessman, he also did business in Los Angeles and San Francisco. Fifty-nine years old. Good health, according to a recent physical.”
“What was his profession? It might be pertinent to finding a connection between the victims?” Chance interrupted Brian’s recitation of the banal facts. “You said he was from Arizona. Is that where he was from originally? Where was he born and raised? Because it might be a tie to the other men.”
Brian pulled his phone out again and began to read aloud. “Looks like he was born in Louisiana. Lived there until he was in his early twenties.”
“Louisiana?” Harper felt an ominous sense of foreboding settle over her, though she couldn’t understand why. Thousands of people were born in Louisiana every year. Wasn’t a big deal she happened to have been born in Louisiana too.
“Let me check something.” He began scrolling again, his fingertips flying across the phone’s screen. At the same time, Chance flipped through the papers in front of him, obviously looking at the other victims’ files.
“Adamson’s family is also from Louisiana. He was born there. Interesting we didn’t catch that connection before.”
“Surprise, surprise. William Sadler, Jr. was also from Louisiana. Small town, close to the Arkansas border. Not far from Shreveport, if memory serves.”
Northern Louisiana. Harper’s heart sank, because thinking these deaths were connected in some what was beginning to look more and more like a series of preplanned homicides and less like a coincidence. What were the odds all the men were from the same general vicinity of where she’d grown up? Where she’d gone through some of the worst times of her life? She thought she’d be able to walk away from Bigelow and leave the town and all its horrible memories behind.
“Northern Louisiana? Tell me there’s no connection to Bigelow?”
Chance and Brian stopped looking through the files and turned their attention to her. It was as if the mention of the word frozen them, and she watched them exchange a look.
“What makes you ask about Bigelow, Louisiana, Harper?
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the chilly fingers of hopelessness slide down her body, and she barely resisted the urge to curl in a ball, close her eyes, and shut away the rest of the world. It seemed no matter how far she ran, tried to turn her life around, the past would always have a stranglehold on her life. There was no escaping the past or the small town she’d once called home.
“It’s where I’m from. Originally, I mean. I’ve been in Texas since I was sixteen. Before that I lived in,” she stopped, not wanting to even say the name, because it meant invoking the evil she associated with the place, “Bigelow. It’s a tiny place, barely a blip on a map. People call it home. I call it the deepest pit of hell.”
“Harper? Do you want to take a break? We can take a break, talk about this later if you’d like.” Chance stood and started around his chair, but Brian was at her side within seconds, running his hands along her shoulders and upper arms.
“Chance, she’s freezing.”
“Here,” Chance said, handing Brian the suit jacket he’d slung across the back of his chair earlier.
“I’m going to take her home. We obviously struck a nerve. I had to brief my boss on the case, even though we’re not officially assigned yet. He’s giving me a little leeway to wrap this up. I’ll have Gage check into the Louisiana angle, especially the town.” Harper knew Brian was being careful not to mention the town’s name, and she appreciated it, but it was too late. All the horror, always just beneath the surface where she could pretend it didn’t exist, had rushed up like a tsunami, drowning her beneath the weight of evil.
“Good idea. I’ve got a couple ideas of my own, angles I can dig into.” Chance glanced at Harper, his gaze showing the one thing she didn’t want to see—pity. “Let Brian take you home, Harper. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any information, and we can meet in a day or two. Sound good?”
Harper drew in a ragged breath and stood, feeling Brian’s arm still around her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Everything is going to be okay. No matter what’s happened in the past, we’ll handle it and move past it. Go home, get some rest, and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Come on, hon, let’s get you home.”
She nodded and let Brian lead her from the office and out to his car, wondering if she’d be able to face anybody in Shiloh Springs when they found out the truth.
Found out she was one of the monsters.