Setting the cup of coffee at his elbow, Harper took the chair across from him, observing the tiny metal pieces with interest. “Is this new?”
“I’ve had it awhile, finally getting to it.” He picked up the body and held it up to the light, peering inside with the same air of professional interest Jerry had shown when studying the Glock the night before. “It has a bit of internal damage. But nothing I can’t work with.”
Buying broken cameras being sold for parts and fixing them was Miles’s hobby. Harper had never known a time when he wasn’t working on one. He found the work meditative. “It’s why my blood pressure’s so low,” he’d told her long ago. “Some people do yoga. I fix things.”
Setting the camera down, he picked up the cup. “What’s going on?”
“I need a place to stay in the city,” she said. “And soon.”
He already knew her history. He listened quietly as she told him the latest in the Martin Dowell case. “Luke and Blazer say the state police refuse to give out his location, or explain why they’re refusing,” she said, when she’d told him everything.
Miles looked at her over the wire-framed glasses he wore for close work. “Why do they think they’re hiding him? It can’t be witness protection, can it?”
“It’s the only thing we can think of,” she said. “If he’s cooperating with the police on bringing down his own organization they’d keep his location a secret. But I don’t know.” She pushed the cup a few inches away. “I just feel like I can’t stay out at Tybee anymore. Not with this happening.”
He gestured at the living room behind them—it wasn’t big, but it had high ceilings and a wide view of the river through the loft windows. “My couch is your bed if you need it for a few nights.”
Harper gave him a grateful look. But his apartment wasn’t meant for friends to share—the only thing separating the living room from the bedroom was the bookcase where he kept his LP collection. To get to the bathroom, you had to walk through his bedroom. He’d have no privacy.
“You’re the best for offering, but I can’t crowd you like that. Actually, I was wondering if maybe you could find out if there was a studio apartment for rent in the building. Something small.”
“I’ll ask around for you. Last time I checked, though, it was fully occupied.” He thought for a second. “Could you stay with Bonnie?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want her getting caught up in this.” Standing, she walked to the window and stood looking out at the muddy water of the river below. “I honestly don’t know what to do. I’m trapped.”
“Now hang on.” He frowned. “You’re assuming he’s going to get to you, but there’s no sign of that. Seems to me, if he could find you he’d have shown up by now. Maybe you should find another place out at Tybee. Lay low until this works itself out.”
“But if he does find me out there, I’m miles from a police department that can take him on.” The thought of Tom Southby trying to take on Dowell was chilling. “I’d be all alone.”
“If Martin Dowell finds you, it doesn’t matter where you live.” He gave her a level look. “Harper, you can’t fight someone like him and expect to win. All you can do is stay the hell out of his way and Tybee’s a good place to do that.” He picked up the broken camera. “I think you’re safer out there. Stay as long as you can.”
His words stayed with her long after she’d left to go to work. He had a point. She’d been safe out on the island all these months, but for all she knew that was because Dowell had still been in prison. He was out now.
And there were too many ways to track her down.
* * *
Baxter felt the Xavier Rayne story was done for now, and wanted Harper to find new crimes to investigate until someone was arrested. But she kept thinking about that phone call with Cara the night before. It was difficult to know if she was telling the truth, but she’d sounded genuinely scared.
When work fell quiet, and Baxter was away from her desk, Harper dialed Cara’s number.
The phone rang six times before her voice mail came on. Harper hung up quickly, leaving no message.
It didn’t make sense. If Cara really was afraid to leave the house, why didn’t she answer?
A few minutes later, though, her phone rang. Cara’s name was on the screen.
Harper snatched it from the desk. “McClain.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t answer when you called. The others were in the room.” Her voice was just above a whisper. “They can’t know I’m talking to you.”
“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out there,” Harper said. “Did you see the article?”
“I did. And thank you.” Cara said it with apparently genuine warmth. “It meant a lot to me that you listened.”
“Are things any better? This isn’t for the paper, by the way,” Harper added hastily. “I’m just asking.”
“I wish they were,” Cara said. “It’s just weird out here. I want to leave.”
“What’s so weird?”
Cara lowered her voice to a whisper. “Hunter doesn’t sleep. He just sits in the living room smoking all night. I think he’s going crazy. His temper is so quick. He’s angry all the time.”
Harper could imagine this. He’d been furious last night on the phone.
“What about Allegra?” she asked. “Is she still in denial?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell what’s real with her,” Cara said. “She doesn’t talk about the investigation at all. She acts like everything is normal. It’s so weird. I just want out.”
Her voice cracked, and she fell silent.
Harper gave her a second to recover and then said, “Do you really think one of them could have killed Xavier?”
There was a long pause before the actress spoke. “No. I can’t believe it. They loved him. But who else could it have been?”
Harper turned the newspaper on her desk over, looking at Xavier’s fine-boned face.
“Grief makes people act strangely,” she said. “Everyone reacts differently to a loss like this.”
“I know.” Cara exhaled. “And I know I sound paranoid. But they’re always watching me. Asking where I’m going. It’s not normal—”
Through the phone, Harper heard the sound of knocking.
“Cara? Are you okay?” It was Allegra’s high-pitched voice.
Harper heard Cara whisper, “I’ve got to go.”
The line went dead.
After she’d hung up, Harper thought for a second and then, on an impulse, checked the Library Bar’s website. Allegra was still listed as performing the next night.
She needed to be there. Someone in that house was lying.
She just didn’t know who.
24
Harper was late for her date with Dells.
The bar where they’d agreed to meet was in one of those pricey, anonymous hotels with cold, blue lighting and Sinatra playing through invisible speakers. The kind of place where the staff are discreet, and nobody cares how much you drink as long as you can pay the bill when you’re done.