“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“So what are you going to do? I recommend surprising her with tickets to the event. Maybe airline tickets too. That way, she can’t possibly say no.”
Heath arched a brow. “I look forward to hearing about where you learned how to be such a romantic.”
Liam wished he hadn’t said anything to set off Heath’s radar. He pursed his lips, waiting for Heath’s response.
“I’ll think about it. Satisfied?”
Good. Liam nodded, glad the matter was settled.
“I found something else out today. Something Taggart is going to want to know—but it’s not related to the bomb. He’s going to be distracted. But maybe you can ask him if you can investigate as long as it doesn’t interfere with you attending that event with Harper and making it special.”
Heath gave him an odd look as if he didn’t know Liam at all. There was much Heath didn’t know about him.
“What is it?” Heath asked.
“Chad contacted me. John Smith inadvertently left his address.”
Liam dug the paper out of his pocket and handed it over.
Shock rolled through Heath.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
FRIDAY, 2:45 A.M.
CIRCLE S RANCH
“I know it’s late, and I’m sorry.”
Lying in bed, she held the cell away from her while Emily gave her an earful. Harper couldn’t blame her sister for being upset. A text wasn’t always enough. Harper had been exhausted after a day that included documenting images until well after midnight, and had forgotten to call Emily.
She’d woken up suddenly with the thought. “Are you done yet?”
“No. I could keep going.”
“I can only say I’m sorry so many times.” Harper shifted her pillow.
“I’m good with you saying you’re sorry at least once more. And it’s not late, it’s early.”
“What? Oh, right. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but I was busy.” Harper explained everything that had happened.
Emily gave a heavy sigh. “I wish you hadn’t been there, Harper. I’m so, so sorry you had to go through that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. A little scratched is all.” She huffed a laugh. “New scratches to add to the old ones. At least I got my stitches out.” But Harper understood Emily’s question went deeper. “I’m sorry it happened, and yes, I’m fine. Sheriff Taggart asked me to take pictures, and I did my best. It felt good to be back, even though I’m still working through the pain of what happened. But it’s late, and I should get some sleep. I might have to take more pictures.”
“Okay, but before you go, I need to ask you a favor.”
Uh-oh. “What is it?”
“I can’t stop thinking about Uncle Jerry.”
Harper tensed. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. “And?”
“He told us to come back to see him. You’re still there, Harper. Will you please stop by? Try again?”
“If this is so important to you, why didn’t you stay?”
Another sigh. “You know why I couldn’t. I mean, I didn’t know it was going to bother me so much. And now, he could have been in town and gotten hurt in that bomb, Harper. You should check on him. Besides, he’s sick. Maybe we can plan a trip back to see him later too.”
“Why is it so important to you?” Shame engulfed her. “I’m sorry. I should be more concerned about him.” But she’d had a feeling he wasn’t part of their lives for good reason, and nothing about that had changed.
“He’s our only living relative—at least that we know about. And until this week, we didn’t even know he was alive. Why didn’t we know that he was alive and living in the old house? Aren’t you curious why he and Mom weren’t close?”
Harper closed her eyes, exhaustion winning the battle in her mind. “Okay. I’ll try. But I can’t promise. I don’t know if I’ll have time. The sheriff could want more pictures, and I want to be there if he does.” Images flooded her mind.
Her pictures had captured the unexpected event forever on camera and, unfortunately, in her mind.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
FRIDAY, 9:02 A.M.
BRIDGER COUNTY SHERIFF’S OFFICE
Harper recognized and accepted that she had been shut out of taking part in this bomb investigation since all manner of federal and state law enforcement had arrived. Fine by her. She definitely didn’t want to be in the middle when it hadn’t even been decided who would lead the investigation.
“Taggart’s not here,” Heath said. “We’ll have to see if we can catch up to him at the scene.”
“That won’t be easy,” Liam said.
“I want to go ahead and give the memory card to Meghan, if I can find her.” Harper left the men and pressed her way down the hallway and into the cubicle area, searching for Meghan. She found her in the back corner.
Meghan blinked up at her. “Harper. Hey.” She held out her hand. “Do you have it?”
Harper nodded and handed over the memory card.
“Thanks. You can have a seat here next to me. I’ll download these to a hard drive and make a backup copy. What we need is an audit log system so we can track what happens to the images, but we’re not there yet.”
“I emailed you my log to go with the photographs.”
“Thanks. I got it.”
“I did my best to make sure they could be used as evidence documentation, if needed. What I really need is to get back out there today. Yesterday was chaotic. I was rushed.”
Meghan smiled, then lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder. “I know he was glad to have someone with your skill level available for the pictures.”
Then she pulled up the images on her computer as she downloaded. “This is much more than crime scene photography.” Tears choked Meghan’s words.
“How could I be impartial?” The scene was still playing out. People were still suffering.
“You’re truly gifted. You captured the emotions too. I . . .” Meghan’s eyes teared up. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t realize . . .”
Harper understood the deep emotional impact the pictures had on Meghan. This was her town, after all, and someone had committed the worst kind of crime against it.
“Oh, Harper.” She pressed a hand against her arm. “And you were out there when the bomb went off, but you weren’t hurt?”
Unable to speak, she shook her head. Heath protected me. What if he had died and she had survived? Those words remained at the edge of her mind and heart. “I’m okay.”
Heath found her in the cubicle. “Sheriff Taggart called and asked me to look into something. Are you okay to stay here for a while?”
She nodded. “Sure, Meghan and I can work on this.”
His features grim, he nodded and left her. She watched Heath—part rancher, cowboy, and deputy—head out. Would Sheriff Taggart offer her a job and give her a legitimate reason to stay? He’d asked her to take these photographs and she wasn’t entirely sure if she was getting paid, but she would have taken them anyway.
She zeroed in on Meghan’s computer.
Once the images from Harper’s camera were downloaded, Meghan skimmed through other pictures to file away. Images that others had taken.
“These are from everyone else who was out tagging evidence, scraps, things to identify the explosion pattern. So much to look at, and it’s going to take a lot of people. They’ve set up in the conference room to start, but they’re going to be moving everything to the high school gym.”
“What do they know so far?”
Meghan shrugged. “They don’t tell me anything. I don’t think the state or the feds are going to share with Sheriff Taggart either, even though they claim to want to work together.”
“That’s why he wanted me to grab as many pictures as I could. He doesn’t want to be out of the loop. Wait.” Harper leaned in. “Can you magnify that fragmented piece of pipe?”
Meghan nodded. “Okay, it’s magnified. What
are you looking at?”
“Are those . . . initials carved into it?”
“I don’t know. It looks like P. L.” Meghan gasped. “I stayed up late last night researching bombings. Domestic terrorists. I hope that’s not what this is. One guy supposedly put what authorities believed were initials in his bombs. They called him the Firebomber. Sometimes he purposefully misled them with false clues, so they never caught him. This could be nothing, but I need to tell the sheriff.”
Harper knew a P. L.—Pete Langford. But it couldn’t be Pete. She wouldn’t let herself believe that. She would mention it to Heath—he was a deputy, after all.
To warn him.
“Meghan.” A woman approached the cubicle. “The fingerprint reader is broken. And Moffett’s two-way radio is only one way.”
Meghan nodded. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” With a resigned sigh, she handed over Harper’s memory card. “Listen, I have a ton of work to do. I wish I could let you help, but beyond what you’ve already done for us, there’s nothing I can have you do unless the sheriff okays it.”
“I understand.” Harper wished she was officially hired so she could be working too. At the moment, she felt completely useless. “Thanks.”
“I’m one of only two IT people here at the department, which means I get to work on anything with an electronic pulse, including radios and fingerprint readers. I’d say you could wait here, but you’re not an employee, so . . .”
“It’s okay.”
“But I’m sure you’re fine to hang out in the kitchen. Get some coffee.” Her eyes lit up. “And maybe some donuts.”
“I’ll be fine.” She followed Meghan out into the hallway, then stopped at the kitchen, where Meghan left her. She’d have to wait to mention what she’d seen to Heath. He might not like her suggestion that Pete had anything to do with the bombs. All she needed now was a task to keep her from going crazy. Harper knew just the thing, though she dreaded going back.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
FRIDAY, 10:45 A.M.
UNCLE JERRY’S HOUSE
Heath steered all the way up the drive this time. His gut tensed. “What is Lori’s SUV doing here?”
Liam unbuckled. “I guess you could ask her.”
Lori and Harper stood on the porch. Lori waved and smiled.
Heath’s gut soured. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.
He’d intentionally left Harper in the dark about their visit to her uncle while they followed up on this lead. The sheriff had given him the go-ahead to question the man about the rifle. Heath suspected he was quick to agree in order to get Heath off his back as he prepared for a press conference. All eyes were on the small town now. Heath was happy to be out of that circle and out of the spotlight should someone try to ask him about his cabin.
The old red truck that had been here last time was gone. Heath climbed out as Harper and Lori stepped from the porch. Heath contained his anger. “What are you doing here? I left you with Meghan at the sheriff’s office. You said you were okay to stay there for a while.”
“You’re not officially protecting me anymore, remember? And I thought you were going to check on something for Sheriff Taggart. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
He eyed the house. “So is he home?”
“Nobody answered. His truck isn’t here. I can only assume he’s gone. What are you doing here?”
Should he tell her the truth? He hadn’t wanted to share the news until they knew if there was an actual connection. If it even mattered. Heath drew in a breath.
Liam stole the words. “The custom rifle maker gave us this address for John Smith.” He hesitated, then said, “Your uncle could be John Smith.”
Harper frowned. She took in Liam’s words as if he spoke in a different language, and then her eyes moved to Heath. “What is he saying?”
“You heard him. I didn’t tell you because I wanted to check it out first.” He hadn’t been concerned that she would come back. She’d seemed so dead set against it.
She crossed her arms. “My uncle is not this John Smith guy you think could be the killer. I don’t believe that.”
“Well, let’s prove that you’re right.” He loathed putting that hurt in her eyes. Though she hadn’t known her uncle growing up, no one liked to think a relative would try to murder them.
“Even though he isn’t here, we could still look around the place,” Liam said.
“We stopped by to ask him some questions,” Heath said. “We can’t illegally enter the yard looking for evidence.”
“No, but those woods surrounding the house are public lands. National forest,” Liam said.
“How do you know?” Heath asked.
“The private property signs for one thing,” Liam said.
“He’s right.” Harper’s frown had deepened.
“We can walk all the way around the house in the woods and look for evidence. Maybe we’ll see something in plain view that will give us probable cause. I really think we should have tried for a warrant.” Liam left them to explore the woods near the house.
“I’ll get my camera,” Harper said.
Heath wasn’t sure that was a good idea. This guy was a relative. Add to that, her father had been murdered on this property. She probably wasn’t the best person to take pictures. There wasn’t any way she could be impartial, but he also understood her need to take them. No matter what. And he wouldn’t stand in her way.
“If y’all don’t mind,” Lori said, “I’m going to wait in the Navigator, where it’s cooler and possibly safer.”
“I’ll bring Harper, Lori. You can go on home.”
Lori eyed Harper. “I’m happy to wait for you.”
Harper shook her head. “It’s okay. Thank you for bringing me out here.”
Lori winked, waved, and climbed into her vehicle. Then she started it and drove away.
Harper hiked next to Heath. He wished she would have gone with Lori.
“So, what if he is John Smith?” she asked. “That doesn’t mean he killed Sophie. I can’t believe it. That would mean he tried to kill me too.”
Exactly what he was thinking.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
Heath understood why she refused to believe her uncle had anything to do with the crimes. He was still her mother’s brother, albeit a man her mother clearly hadn’t gotten along with.
From the woods behind the house, Harper peered through her camera. “I told myself I would never come back here. That I would look at those pictures I took if I thought I wanted to come back.”
“So why did you come back?”
“Emily asked me to. She felt guilty about leaving, I guess. And I felt guilty about not being concerned about our uncle. I knew she wouldn’t leave it alone, so when I was cut loose from Meghan, I called Lori. She’s always there to help.”
Yep. That was Lori.
“Even so, you don’t have to be here now. You don’t have to take pictures. He’s not home. You can tell Emily you tried.”
“It’s okay.” She lifted her chin.
“I wish he were home. Questioning him would be better than slinking around in the woods behind his house.” Images remained fresh in his mind—Heath, Harper, and Arty hiking in the woods.
Arty in a pool of blood.
Heath concentrated on the woods around them.
“We could wait on him,” Harper said. “He mentioned he wasn’t feeling well. I got the impression he was sick. I mean, really sick. He probably won’t be gone long.”
Heath stuck close to Harper as they roamed the woods near the house. The man hadn’t kept the place up. This home was nothing like Donny Albright’s.
“I don’t think the house has been painted since we lived here,” she said.
“Hey, you two, over here,” Liam called from closer behind the house.
Crouching, he studied the ground.
Next to him, Harper took more pictures. “Shells. So what?”
“This cartridge is specifically
designed for a Remington 7mm Magnum rifle,” Liam said.
“So?” Heath asked. “How many people shoot that same kind of rifle?”
“I’m not sure what the percentages are, but considering this is John Smith, we need to go with this. I know you don’t want to—”
“It could be a coincidence,” Harper said.
“Or this could be our guy,” Heath said. “There has to be a target out there somewhere. Let’s see if we can find bullets. We can let ballistics figure this out.”
“How about a warrant to go into the house?” Liam asked.
Heath frowned. “The sheriff has his hands full. They all do. I want to bag those shells for evidence, but not until they’re photographed as such. So we touch nothing. Hear me? This is all in plain view, so there’s nothing illegal about finding this evidence.”
Heath glanced at Harper, hating what this was doing to her. “You okay?”
She nodded. He didn’t believe her.
“He’s an old, sick guy. He couldn’t have done any of it.”
“You can’t see him in the hat, holding the weapon? Killing her?” Liam leveled his gaze. “Or you don’t want to see it.”
“Liam. Enough!”
Her mouth formed an “O” as she blew out a steady breath. “I want to take pictures, but I’m not working for Sheriff Taggart. Not officially. And it’s not a crime scene yet, but you think it will be?”
“I think we have enough to get a warrant.” Liam crossed his arms. “But I’m like Harper. I don’t work for the sheriff’s department either, except, as he loosely termed it, as a law enforcement consultant. So what do you want to do, Heath?”
Heath only shrugged. He got that Liam had a feeling about her uncle. He could be wrong. Let him be wrong.
“I’m worried about him, Heath,” she said. “He was sick the other day. Wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he’s hurt or too sick to answer the door.”
“His truck is gone. He’s not here.”
Always Look Twice Page 25
