And then Harper saw it. Admiration sparked in Moffett’s eyes as she removed her sunglasses.
What? Did Harper’s competence surprise her?
Still, Harper didn’t care all that much about impressing Moffett, even though it served to validate her effort. No. Harper cared only about what Heath thought. As she lifted her gaze to meet his, a nugget of fear lodged in her throat. Would he think anything at all? If he didn’t, that might actually disappoint her.
Why did she care? She shouldn’t . . .
Heath’s sunglasses were resting on his head and his arms were crossed.
His grin and the respect in his eyes said it all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
FRIDAY, 3:33 P.M.
ST. JOHN MEDICAL CENTER
Just when Harper thought things were moving in the right direction . . . Oh, Em . . .
Dr. Malus sat on a stool near the bed. Heath leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.
An issue had been discovered.
Harper had to be strong for her sister. She held Emily’s hand, grateful her sister had come out of the coma. Harper had spent all of Thursday with Emily. Then today after Harper had finished processing the crime scene, she’d come directly to the hospital. At least she could be here with Emily to hear what Dr. Malus would say.
She was so grateful she could look Emily in the eyes, though they were filled with fear. Squeezing Emily’s cold hand, Harper hoped to reassure her.
Emily’s head was wrapped in white tape, so it looked like she wore a cap. At the base of her cap, electrodes protruded and twisted together, then extended over to connect with a computer that recorded brain wave activity. Harper stared at the waves on the monitor and waited for Dr. Malus’s prognosis.
Dr. Malus delivered her news with kindness. “You’re doing well, but we need to watch you over the weekend.”
“Why?” Harper asked for the both of them.
Dr. Malus looked at Emily. “You’ve had a few seizures, which isn’t unheard of after a head injury or in the case of a coma, but they’ve continued even since you’ve been awake. They’re non-convulsive, meaning we can’t see any physical signs. We considered putting you on analeptic medication for control”—Dr. Malus looked at her notes—“but this could resolve in a couple of days. Even if it does, I’d still like you to see a neurologist when you return home. In the meantime, I saw in the electronic medical records that you’re supposed to be on lithium, so we’re going to restart those meds.”
Confused, Harper stared at Emily.
“Ana—” Emily started.
“Anti-seizure medication.” Dr. Malus rose from her stool. “Clinically speaking, you look great. You’re improving. Can I answer any more questions?”
“No.” Emily stared at her hands.
“Wait . . . Lithium?” Harper asked.
Tears leaked from Emily’s eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you.” She glanced at the doctor. “Can I talk to her alone?”
She nodded. “Of course. I’m on tonight if you need anything or have more questions.”
Harper waited until Dr. Malus left the room before lifting her gaze to Emily.
Heath cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside the door.”
“Thanks,” Harper said.
She waited for Heath to step out of the room. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking lithium?”
She and Emily hadn’t been all that close until after college when they both lived near their mom until she died. They’d grown closer on this trip. They didn’t keep secrets. Or at least Harper had thought they didn’t. Even so, how could she have missed this?
“Mom was so focused on you after what you went through. Being there when Dad was killed. Getting you therapy. I had to deal on my own. Finally, a boyfriend persuaded me to see a counselor at school who urged me to get help—it was more serious than I thought. I’ve been on lithium for a few years for mild bipolar depression.” Emily swiped at her cheeks. “I know we talked about staying, but as soon as I can leave, I want to get out of here. It’s not like we have to pack up the Airstream.”
Emily choked on the words.
A hollow ache throbbed behind Harper’s ribs. “You put so much into renovating. We can do it again. We’ll get another camper and start over. Okay?” Harper had no idea what she was saying, but she would say anything to get them through this. This whole time she had thought there must be something wrong with her to struggle so much with the past, but Emily had been struggling too.
It hurt that her sister hadn’t confided in her, yet Harper could see that Emily had only wanted to stay strong for her. She hadn’t wanted Harper to know about her struggle.
Emily nodded. “Sure, we can do that at some point. But before I leave, I want to see the old house, Harper. Like we talked about. I might never get another chance to see it. I know part of what you’ve gone through—the survivor’s guilt—has to do with what you experienced as a child there. So I have to ask—are you good with that? Can we at least drive by?”
Harper was still reeling from everything new she’d learned in the last half hour involving Emily. Why did Emily always press her on the house? “I would do anything for you, Emily, but . . .”
Emily’s eyes glistened.
“Oh, Em, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just a stupid old house.” She had no idea why Emily wanted to go back. If it were up to Harper, she would never look at it again. Still, she wanted to be there for her sister, who she’d almost lost forever.
“Thanks.” Emily squeezed Harper’s hand.
Harper took this moment to bring Emily up to speed on today’s photographs of the camper and truck.
Harper had intended to stay in town, but now with Emily’s potential neurological issues, she didn’t see how she could. “We’ll go home as soon as you’re released.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re not going anywhere. I want you to help them find who did this to us. Find who killed that woman. You have to do this. I see that now, and I’m sorry for trying to persuade you otherwise. Since you took this on, I can see how it’s helping you overcome the fact you didn’t face things before. This is good for you and it’s the right thing to do. And besides, you have Heath the cowboy to watch over you. I won’t worry about you so much. I’m so proud of you.”
“You’re proud of me?”
“For seeing this through. You’re ready for what comes next.”
Harper wasn’t so sure she agreed with Emily, but it seemed life wasn’t giving her any choices. While photographing the wreckage of the truck and camper, Harper realized she actually missed being part of the crime-solving process.
The door creaked open. Heath. “Okay if I come in now?”
Harper wouldn’t tell him she had forgotten he was out there. “Sure. Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
She hated leaving Emily, but her sister looked tired. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“No.” Emily stared at her hands, then glanced up. “Wait. You can take the clothes I had on. Burn them. Wash them. I don’t know. Maybe they’re not salvageable. Bring me new clothes for when they release me.”
“You got it.” Harper pulled the plastic bag containing Emily’s clothes out of a small closet. “Okay. Anything else?”
Emily swiped at her eyes. “I’m glad I turned my book in already.”
“Should I call your editor? I didn’t even think of that.”
“No, it’s fine. Maybe bring my lap—” Emily stopped midsentence. Put her hand to her mouth. “Oh. It’s gone, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so.” Harper glanced to Heath, who nodded. “But we’ll get you a brand-spanking-new one. You can download from the cloud or wherever you store your files.”
Emily smiled the biggest smile Harper had seen in days. “I’m so glad I have you.” She glanced to Heath. “You keep her safe or I’ll have to kill you.”
He didn’t even blink.
“In a book, Heath. She’d have to kill you in a novel. Emily’s pen name is L. E. Harper. The L stands for Leslie, our mother. I’m not sure you would know her as an author.” Harper angled her head and sent him a wry grin. “You’d have to read.”
He pursed his lips. “I can read fine, thank you.”
“No.” She chuckled. “I mean, you’d have to read mysteries to know. You look more like a Louis L’Amour kind of guy.”
Heath grinned, and the room tilted just a little.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
FRIDAY, 8:42 P.M.
EMERALD M GUEST RANCH
Heath stood on the porch as the evening waned and tried to ignore the black smudge on his property. But all it took was one inhale and he drew in the scent of smoke and ash. The expected rain hadn’t come—and while it could hurt any remaining but undiscovered evidence, Heath wished for a torrent to wash it all away. Until then he’d have to live with the pungent odors, and the aftermath.
Finding the person responsible for bombing his cabin wasn’t his only concern, and until Harper and her sister were safe and a murderer was caught, Heath would remain working in his capacity as a deputy.
He wasn’t dressed in official deputy garb, but he had on his Sam Browne belt, sans the extra fifteen pounds of equipment. Right now, all he packed was his gun, so he wasn’t geared up much differently than if he were working the ranch.
He felt split between his two jobs—deputy and Emerald M Ranch owner, and it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Until the state was officially done with its investigation, rebuilding the cabin had started, and Harper’s safety was no longer an issue, the guest ranch would stay closed. Pete was the only one of Heath’s employees who remained at the ranch. No horses. No dogs. He couldn’t very well leave Timber and Rufus at the ranch with law enforcement buzzing around. Leroy wasn’t there, well, because Leroy was in the hospital. Heath’s other employees catered to the guests’ needs and, without guests, there was no need for their help until this was over. Still, he would continue to pay them for the foreseeable future so he wouldn’t lose them as employees.
He leaned against a knobby pine post with his hands in his pocket, listening to the evening sounds. Why his ranch? He’d already been questioned several times by the state and could expect more questions if the feds got involved, but he had no answers. All he had was an empty guest ranch, when this should be the busiest time of year. The time of year when he made his money.
He had a reputation to keep up. Now he’d have to rebuild even that.
Pete approached from the barn and stomped up the porch. He leaned against the opposite post. They could have been two wrought-iron cowboy statues, if anyone looked on from a distance.
“What are you going to do, Heath?”
“As soon as they release the cabin and my ranch, I’m going to rebuild. I’ve already spoken with Jeffers over at JH Construction. As soon as I give him the go-ahead, he’ll rebuild the cabin. We’ll bring the horses back and look alive.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“In the meantime, you don’t have to stay here. You can go visit family. Friends. Go somewhere and be safe.” And that was just it. His house wasn’t exactly the safest place, considering someone had targeted one of his cabins.
Harper hadn’t been there when that happened. The bomb wasn’t about her.
And the law enforcement presence—the very thing he’d used to persuade her to stay and be safe—had died down.
“Nah. I’m good. I haven’t exactly got anywhere to go except to my doctor. This is my home. I can keep a lookout for you too, though I didn’t do such a good job on that cabin.”
“Not your fault. No one saw the intruder. I’m relieved the cabin wasn’t occupied at the time. How you doing anyway? You’re done with chemo, aren’t you?” Pete had insisted on working through it all, though in the evenings he often got nauseous. Thing was, Pete had never really told Heath what kind of cancer he had.
“Sure am.”
“Good.” Heath wanted to ask him about his prognosis, but he’d leave that to Pete to share when he was ready. Maybe the guy wanted to focus on one day at a time and not look at the future, especially if doctors thought he had no future. The truth was that everyone died. It was a simple matter of when and how.
Pete didn’t offer more.
“Heath?” Harper’s smooth voice spoke from behind.
He glanced over his shoulder. She had been standing in the door but now came all the way out of the house.
“Well, I’ll let you two talk,” Pete said. “I’m going to walk the perimeter. There’s still a couple of state guys lingering over at the cabin remains. Maybe I’ll watch them.”
“Still? I would think they would be done by now.” One could hope.
“I suppose it depends on what they find,” Pete said as he clomped down the steps. “They asked lots of questions. I guess they have to suspect everyone around here.”
Pete disappeared around the porch.
“True.” Harper stood next to Heath and jammed her hands into form-fitting jeans. She looked nice. More than nice. He’d always thought so.
She sighed.
“You sound like you have a lot on your mind and can’t decide what to say.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “You always knew me so well.”
Weird. He would have thought that had changed. So much had happened in each of their lives.
“I’m ready to listen.” He grabbed her arm and urged her back inside. “But I’d prefer if you weren’t on the porch and an easy target.”
“Why do you say that? You think I’m in danger out here?”
The shooter could be a highly trained sniper. How did he speak the truth without scaring her? “He had a long-range rifle, you said. A scope to peer at you from across the river.”
Harper shivered. Rubbed her arms. She did that a lot lately.
“Listen. I’m going to keep you safe. It’s going to be all right.” Heath hadn’t believed he was the guy to do it. He hadn’t wanted the responsibility, but now as he looked at Harper, he knew he couldn’t trust anyone else with the job. Harper held a special place in his heart. She always had. He could never forget her being there for him through the worst time of his life. The friendship they’d shared. The tragedy that bonded them then, and danger that tied them together now. Another deputy stood watch over her sister in the hospital until she was released, then she would stay with Heath and Harper unless she left for Missouri. If she did head home, Heath would urge Harper to leave too.
Though a big part of him didn’t want her to go.
He led her to the kitchen and put on a teakettle. He’d have to remember to scoop it off the burner before it actually whistled or he would wake Evelyn, who had gone to bed early. Leroy was improving, but the situation wore her down.
“Now, can you tell me what’s on your mind?”
She slid onto the bar stool and smiled. She hadn’t done nearly enough of that lately. It warmed his heart to see it. “I’m not sure I’m ready to put my thoughts into words. But you’ll be the first to know when I am.”
Fair enough. “I have to tell you something.”
“Go ahead.” She crossed her arms and leaned her elbows on the counter.
“I was impressed with your crime scene photography skills. You were so focused, so on top of your game, gathering the evidence. That hair. I think Moffett admired you too.”
She blushed and hung her head. Then that amazing smile again when she lifted her face. Her long red hair hung over her left shoulder. What would it be like to run his fingers through that? He busied himself getting her tea so she wouldn’t somehow read his inappropriate thoughts.
“Thank you, Heath. No need to flatter me. The truth is, I don’t know what to do now. So what? I found something. We don’t know if it’s a true lead, and I don’t know what to do next.”
“Why do you think you have to do something?”
“I want
to help find the guy who killed her. I have to see it through this time. I don’t know if I can explain why.”
“I’m pretty sure things happen much slower than what we see on television.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Of course you do. But it’s not your job to find him. Let the sheriff’s department and the other agencies Taggart brings in find him. And it’s my job to keep you safe. If you keep going out there, you could put yourself in danger.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I need to do.”
“Come again?”
“I need to put myself out there. I’ve been a coward for too long. It’s time to be brave.”
He moved around the counter and, after turning her toward him, gently squeezed her shoulders. Lifted her chin so her eyes would meet his gaze. “Harper Reynolds, you’re the bravest person I know.”
Heath wanted to draw her into his arms. Hold her. Comfort her. That want stemmed from a deeper place inside him. None of these thoughts were appropriate. Official duty alone should restrain him from acting on them. Fat chance. He cupped her cheek and felt its softness as she leaned in, responding to his touch.
Fire, McKade. You’re playing with fire.
Her lips parted slightly as if she would say something, but she released a soft sigh instead. A furious need to kiss her stirred within him.
Evelyn’s words came back to him, urging him to let God bring him someone special to love. What about his resolve, after everything he’d been through? Loving someone was too risky. Sure, Taggart had convinced him that he was the only man to protect Harper. This was Heath’s chance to prove himself—to himself. But Harper deserved so much more. She deserved a better man than he had been or could ever be.
His cell buzzed, breaking the moment. Disappointment warred with relief. He glanced at the text, avoiding the look on Harper’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her reaction.
Lori Somerall.
Great.
“What is it?”
“A friend. I can’t believe they let her up here.”
He stepped away from Harper, something he absolutely didn’t want to do, and headed for the front door. As soon as he stepped on the porch, he saw a white Lincoln Navigator driving up. He waited with dread in his gut. Lori stepped out and strolled toward him.
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