Harper didn’t want to tell her the truth. She knew she’d take it badly. But she couldn’t lie to her. Bonnie knew her better than anyone. She’d see through it.
“It’s worse than you can imagine,” she said, after a long second.
“I can imagine pretty bad things,” Bonnie said.
Harper didn’t reply.
Bonnie gathered their empty plates and ferried them to the kitchen. She returned with the wine bottle. “Just tell me,” she said, when she’d sat down again.
Harper searched for the right words. “That man,” she said, slowly. “The one who called last year. He got in touch again. He told me to look up something called the Southern Mafia. He specifically told me to notice who their lawyer was seventeen years ago.” Just saying the words made her head throb with tension.
“What the hell is the Southern Mafia?” Bonnie sounded bewildered.
“An organized-crime gang based outside Atlanta.” Harper drew a breath. “And their lawyer, as it turns out, was my dad. He forgot to mention this to me for, oh … all of my life. The head of this group has killed people—lots of them. And my dad lost a big case for him. Right before my mother was murdered.”
Bonnie stared at her, her lips parted in shock.
“And you think…” Bonnie’s voice trailed off.
“I think he killed my mom,” Harper said. “I think my dad knew that from day one and didn’t say a word. And now I think that man is coming for me.”
There was a long silence as Bonnie absorbed this. Then, she leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “You have to get out of here, Harper. Tybee’s not far enough. You should leave the state.”
“I’m not running again.” Harper’s rage had returned, in spades. “I’m going to stay right here.” She stomped her foot on the wood floor. “And I’m going to kill the man who killed my mother. I’ll do it with my bare hands, if I have to.”
“You just told me this man killed many people,” Bonnie pointed out. “That he’s a professional. How would you kill him?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Harper said, stubbornly. “He killed my mother with a knife. Maybe I should kill him the same way. That would be poetic justice.”
“Yes, it would,” Bonnie agreed. “Except he’d shoot you while you were reaching for the blade and then you’d be dead. So maybe not so much justice in the end.”
Her cool disapproving tone hit Harper like cold water.
“I understand that you’re angry.” Bonnie’s voice was measured. “And I wish I thought you could kill him. If you’re right about him, he deserves to die.” She took a breath. “But I don’t believe you can. Not if you want to survive.”
This only made Harper feel worse. Because if she couldn’t kill him, what could she do? After all these years, she finally knew who to blame, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
She was going to fail her mother.
She dropped her head into her hands, grief crashing over her like a wave pulling her under.
The sofa shifted. Bonnie moved to sit next to her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, taking her hand.
“All my life I believed if I just knew the truth about who killed my mother, I’d feel better.” Harper lifted her head to look at her. “But I feel so much worse.”
“I know.” Bonnie smoothed her hair out of her face with cool fingers. “I get it, I really do. But I don’t want to lose you. And for the first time, I think I might.” Her eyes were bright with tears.
Harper shook her head. “You won’t lose me.”
“I will,” Bonnie said, “if you go out there swinging blind after some gangster. You can’t do it, Harper. You’re not bulletproof.”
“Then tell me what to do,” she said, her voice rising. “Because I sure as hell don’t know.”
Bonnie seemed to be expecting this reaction. Holding Harper’s gaze, she said, “You start by calling your dad.”
Her words hung in the air between them.
“I never want to talk to him again.” Harper leaned away from her. “He lied to me for years.”
“I know,” Bonnie said. “But he’s the one person who knows everything. He knows this mafia guy personally. He knows his weaknesses. He can help you bring him down.”
There was logic to this but Harper still wasn’t convinced. “My father hates me. Why would he tell me what I need to know?”
“Because you’ll give him no choice.” An uncharacteristic steely edge entered Bonnie’s voice. “I don’t know a lot about lawyers, but I know they have rules for corruption. And I have a feeling he’s broken all of them. Tell him to talk to you or you’ll write every word of this up and put it in the newspaper. He could lose his license.” She gave her a fierce look. “I think your dad knows what a good reporter you are. I think you scare him to death. Use that. Get what you need. And then decide how to weaponize that information to bring your mother’s murderer to justice.”
For a second, Harper was speechless.
“Damn, Bonnie,” she said, when she’d found her voice. “I didn’t know you could be this ruthless.”
She was trying to lighten the mood, but Bonnie didn’t smile. Her face was tight with worry. “Whatever happens, don’t you dare go after him on your own, Harper McClain. Do you hear me? I will never forgive you if you die.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Harper promised, pulling her into a hug.
Even as she said it, though, she wondered if it was true.
Because it suddenly occurred to her that her father might know where she could find Martin Dowell.
17
Just after eight o’clock the next morning, Harper’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes groggily. Watery light spilled through the slats of her blinds onto Bonnie, asleep on a pallet on the floor, with Zuzu curled up by her feet in a silver-gray circle.
Grabbing the phone before it could wake her, Harper slipped out of bed and padded barefoot down the hall before answering. “McClain.”
“You fucking bitch.” The voice was furious and had a New York accent.
“Good morning to you, too, whoever you are,” she said, yawning.
“Don’t you good-morning me, you piece of garbage. I’m going to sue you and that rag you work for until you can’t afford to eat. Do you hear me? You are done. Your career is ova.”
The accent, the spitting rage. Suddenly Harper knew who she was talking to.
“Stuart,” she said, pleasantly. “I guess you’ve seen the paper.”
“Seen it? I’ve already sent it to our lawyers. How dare you imply that Cara or any of them had anything to do with Xavier’s death?” he demanded. “That’s unfounded slander. I’m going to sue you for libel so fast your head’ll spin.”
“You’ll be wasting your money. Nothing in that article is untrue.” Her lack of panic seemed to make him angrier.
“Bullshit. You know what you implied,” he snarled. “You’re all the same. Bunch of vipers. I told them not to talk to you. But they trusted you. And you threw it back in their faces.”