He shot her a sideways look. “And now he’s obsessed with you.”
“He’s the least of my worries,” she said, dismissively.
Harper looked down the empty street. Now that she had some idea what she was up against, living out here was starting to seem like a truly terrible idea. The Tybee police force was too tiny to help her if men like the ones Luke had described came for her.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, Luke said, “I don’t like you living out here.”
“Yeah,” Harper said. “I was just thinking it might be time to move closer to a heavily armed police department.”
He didn’t smile. “I’m serious. You should think about moving back to town.”
“I’m on it,” she said. And she was. Tomorrow she would start making calls and see if she could find a new place in the city.
The thought was cheering. Maybe it was worth having a killer after her if it meant she could go home again.
Luke glanced down at the keys in his hand. “Harper. About your mother … You’re not planning on going after Dowell for revenge, are you?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said, finally.
He lifted his serious blue eyes to hers. “Well, before you do anything, remember this. I am a police officer with eight years of service. I am over six feet tall and trained in self-defense. And Dowell’s thugs nearly killed me.” There was a new intensity in his expression. “You’re the toughest woman I know. But they would eliminate you. Do me a favor. Don’t do anything. Just keep your head down. Pretend you don’t know what you know. Give me some time. Let me see what I can find out.”
Their eyes locked, and she saw something in his gaze that was more than worry. Something that sent heat into her bloodstream.
“I’ll wait to hear from you,” she promised.
Suddenly, she felt completely drained. She longed for nothing more than for him to wrap her in his arms, as he once would have done. But that was the past.
“I guess I better go,” she said.
He looked almost disappointed—as if he’d hoped she’d suggest something else. But he said, “Yeah, me too,” and shifted the keys in his hand. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“Thanks.” She opened the driver’s-side door. The interior light glowed, illuminating her face.
“Hey,” he said. “Watch your back, you hear me?”
It had been a long time since she’d seen that expression on his face—a complex mixture of concern and longing. She felt that look in her stomach.
But there was no point. He had someone else now.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, getting into the car. “I’m always careful.”
13
That night, Harper dreamed she was speeding across the marshes in the dark. The road unfurled before her, straight as a razor. There were headlights in the rearview mirror. Closing in. The glow grew brighter and brighter until a blinding light filled the car and she couldn’t see the road ahead.
There was a bang, and her eyes flew open. She was lying on the couch, her forehead beaded with sweat. Zuzu was asleep at her feet.
Daylight streamed through the open blinds, sending shards of bright sunlight across the dark wood floors.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Someone was pounding on the door.
She sat up, disturbing Zuzu, who leapt from the sofa in a fluid arc and stalked away with her ears back as the pounding came again.
Still groggy, Harper jumped to her feet, looking around for a baseball bat before remembering that she didn’t have one anymore.
“Harper, are you naked?” Bonnie’s impatient voice called from outside. “Put some clothes on and open the damned door. These bags are heavy.”
She’d forgotten it was Saturday. Bonnie was coming to stay.
“Hang on!” she called hoarsely, grabbing the keys from the coffee table. When she finally got the door open, Bonnie stood on the other side clutching four overstuffed bags, including one that clinked when she stepped inside. “About time,” she groused.
“Are you moving in for good?” Harper looked at the overfilled bags doubtfully.
“I need all of this,” Bonnie insisted, dropping them by the door. “I know you won’t have any food. And the wine is medicinal.” She looked from Harper to the rumpled sofa to where Zuzu sat on the floor, blinking at them both disapprovingly. “Did you just get up?”
“It’s noon.” Harper said it like that explained everything. She was wide awake now, though, and her main thought was that it was not a good idea for Bonnie to be here right now.
She’d invited her before she’d learned about Martin Dowell.
The last thing she wanted was for Bonnie to somehow get caught up in this. But if she explained why she wanted her to leave, she’d insist on staying to protect her.
Utterly unaware of Harper’s internal conflict, Bonnie had already picked up the bag of wine and groceries and headed across the living room to the little kitchen, talking nonstop. “Well, as you might have gathered, my date was a disaster.”
Harper tried to remember a conversation that now seemed to have happened long ago. “Remind me—who was he?”
“His name is Dylan,” Bonnie called over her shoulder, setting bags down in the cramped little kitchen. “He’s so good-looking. He does light art.”
Harper sat back down on the sofa. “That sounds … bright.”
“It’s beautiful. That’s why I wanted to go out with him. But, dear lord, he talks about himself more than a homecoming queen.” Harper could hear her opening and closing cupboards. Sliding things onto mostly empty shelves. “He has a lot of thoughts about his process and art and ‘the realized world,’ whatever the hell that is, and damn if he doesn’t like to talk about it nonstop.”
She leaned in the kitchen doorway. Her wavy, white-blond hair was pulled into a side ponytail that hung over one shoulder. The section dyed magenta shimmered in the light. She wore faded jeans rolled up to expose slim ankles, and a black T-shirt that she’d sliced up in places so that it hung loose, revealing the delicate curves of her collarbone. On the front, she’d painted the word “CREATE” in silver, entwined with flowers.
“I’d have sent him home but he’s so good-looking.” She sighed, leaning her head against the wood frame. “Even when he was boring me, I just thought about how pretty he was and then I felt better about him. He’s got this gorgeous hair that falls over his forehead. He kind of peeks out from under it like a little deer.”
Harper wasn’t impressed. “Did you make an excuse and get out of there?”
Bonnie straightened. “Honey, no. I had sex with him and then I went home before he could talk me into a coma. You want some water? I’ll put some coffee on, too.”
She talked as if Harper were visiting her, instead of the other way around.
“Sure,” Harper said. “Was the sex good at least?”
“It was okay when he finally stopped talking. But there won’t be a repeat performance.” Bonnie’s voice floated back from the kitchen. “I’m not as into him as he is.” Harper heard the sound of the tap running. “What about you?” Bonnie raised her voice above the water. “Did you go out after work?”