Titan

Chapter Three

Titan

Mrs. Jenkins, or Julie, as she insists on being called, has always been the kind of woman who looked out for me, my brothers, and my best friend, Austin, when we were growing up. Everyone in our neighborhood knew her. She always had the best homemade lemonade she occasionally handed out when we rode our bikes through the streets on hot summer days.

It feels weird to ring her doorbell to ask if she wants to cooperate in a murder investigation, but I’d do anything for Harper.

“Hey, buddy,” my friend Austin calls across the street. “Are you looking for Mrs. Jenkins?”

I turn around and nod. “Yeah. Do you know if she’s home?”

He crosses the street. “I think she’s in her backyard. Since I got her hooked on those podcast apps, she’s gardening with headphones on.”

His gaze flicks to Harper, and he frowns. “I’m Austin. I have a feeling we know each other, but I can’t put a finger on it.”

“I’m Harper. We went to the same high school.”

At the mention of Harper’s name, his eyebrows fly to the top of his hairline. He knows I carried a torch for her, but I told him there was zero chance she’d ever return, so he must be as surprised as I was when I saw her this morning.

“Right, Harper Beckett, huh?”

She laughs. “Wow, you have a great memory. I can’t remember your name. Sorry.”

“I’m Austin.” He points to his house across the street. “I live right over there with my wife and kids. Speaking of whom, I should get back inside. Casey and I have a newborn, and I don’t want to leave them alone for too long. It was nice meeting you, Harper.”

Then it dawns on me. My brother Falcon is Austin’s best friend. It’s only a matter of time before he knows I’m hanging out with Harper.

“Do you mind not talking to Falcon about this?” I whisper. “You know what my brother can be like. He sees me with a girl, and he’s planning a wedding.”

Austin laughs and shakes his head. “Sure thing, buddy. See you guys later!”

“Should we go round back to find Mrs. Jenkins then?” Harper asks, already walking to the gate at the side of the house that leads into the backyard.

“I don’t know. What if she’s so scared when she sees two people in her yard that she gets a heart attack?”

Harper puts a hand on her hip. “A heart attack? Seriously? Trust me, it takes a lot more than being surprised by a couple of townspeople to die from a heart attack.”

I grin. “Right. I forgot you’re the murder expert.”

“If you say it like that, it does sound a bit creepy. Anyway, shall we?”

“Please. I don’t want to make a wrong move and get myself killed by you.”

She lets out a hearty laugh. “As if I would ever lay a finger on you.”

I wish. I wish she’d put her hands all over me. Over my chest, my arms, my dick. I want nothing more than that.

Instead of telling her all those inappropriate thoughts, I follow her as she opens the garden gate and steps onto Mrs. Jenkin’s private property like it’s no big deal. For a second, I’m afraid she’ll call my mother and tell on me.

Harper points to a flower border. “What are you waiting for? She’s right over there.”

“Yoo-hoo, Mrs. Jenkins,” she shouts, waving her arms in the air to get the old lady’s attention.

I snort. Harper used to be like this when we interviewed people for the school newspaper. Kind, enthusiastic, impulsive, confident, and rule-averse. I loved all of those aspects of her. I still do.

Mrs. Jenkins looks up from her flower bed and frowns as she takes one of her earbuds out. When she sees me, she looks even more confused.

“Titan? Is something wrong?”

Before I can answer, Harper takes two big steps forward and extends her hand. “Everything is going great, Mrs. Jenkins. We’re sorry about barging in like this. I’m Harper, by the way. Titan and I wrote for the school newspaper together back in the day.”

“First, call me Julie.” She rises to her feet and brushes the dirt from her hands on her gardening apron. “Second, if everything is great, then why are you guys here?”

“Well, we’re investigating a cold case. I have a podcast called Midnight Murmurs: The Harper Files,” Harper starts, but then Mrs. Jenkins, or rather, Julie, interrupts her.

“You’re the Harper from Midnight Murmurs? I was listening to your podcast when you appeared. Talk about a coincidence,” she says, her face lighting up. “Please, take a seat at the table over there. I’ll bring a pitcher of homemade lemonade. It’s Titan’s favorite, if I remember correctly.”

She winks at me and marches inside, the work she was doing on her flower bed seemingly already forgotten.

Harper and I make our way to Julie’s table, which is placed right in the middle of her lush, green grass.

“I told you it would work out,” Harper says, shoving a chair back with a content look. “Everyone always falls for my charms.”

I lock eyes with her and nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

My gaze travels down to her lips, which she licks in response, setting my body on fire. Nothing else matters anymore. I wish I could lean over the table and place my lips on hers, claiming her mouth with a kiss that would knock her off her feet, but this is neither the time nor the place for it.

Julie appears outside again, holding a serving tray with a pitcher of lemonade, three glasses, and a plate of cookies.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a part of your podcast,” she says excitedly while filling our glasses. “I’m retired and alone. Never in a million years did I think I’d be able to do something this unique and exciting.”

“And we’re happy you want to help us,” Harper says.

Julie’s smile falters, and she gives us a serious look. “Not that I think murder cases are fun. I’m absolutely against any violence whatsoever.”

“As are we,” I chime in.

“The positive thing about hosting a podcast like this is that sometimes, cold cases do get solved. The chances are slim, but every perp behind bars thanks to us is a win, right?”

Julie nods furiously as she shoves the plate of cookies toward us. “You seem like a smart girl, Harper. Not that I doubted that. Your podcast is sublime, and you’re incredibly kind. Now that I think of it, a creepy-looking guy showed up at my house last night. Long hair, scrawny, a confused look in his eyes… Claimed he was also a podcaster. I told him I’d give others something to podcast about if he didn’t leave immediately.”

Harper snorts. “That’s Clive. He wants to reach the top of the murder mystery podcast community, but his attitude scares a lot of people. I doubt he’ll make it.”

Julie folds her hands and gives us an expectant look. “So, about that case you’re working on. What happened, and what do you want to know from me?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Harper starts.

Julie listens intently and only occasionally interrupts to ask a clarifying question.

“So, do you remember anything about seeing her?” Harper asks after she’s done, showing Julie a picture of the missing girl.

“I’m afraid not.”

“It’s okay to take your time,” I tell her.

Julie shakes her head. “I might be old, but I’m not senile. My memory still works perfectly. I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen her around. Although, I did run into a strange man at the Mountain Valley Grocery around the time Isabella went missing. I remember because he was the rudest man I’ve ever met. I tried to have him contribute something to the good cause I volunteer for, you know, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center. From time to time, I stand outside the supermarket to ask for donations. I’m too old to do any of the hard work with those animals, so I contribute in whatever way I can. Anyway, he practically bit my head off, shouted he was in a hurry and didn’t care about the local wildlife, and stormed off. He had this wild look in his eyes…” She shakes her head as if shaking the memory off. “But this is nothing I didn’t tell the police already. Unfortunately, I couldn’t give an accurate enough description of the man, so they said it led to nothing.”

“Did you notice anything else about him?” I ask.

“Well, like I told the police back then, he was wearing a torn red cowboy hat. That’s all the details I can give you.”

Harper gives her a grateful smile. “You’ve helped a lot, Julie. Thank you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Every piece of the puzzle counts,” I say.

Julie smiles and picks up the pitcher of lemonade. “Let me give you a refill before you two head off.”

I look over at Harper. “Do we have time for one more?”

“Why not? We have another hour,” she says with a grin before holding her glass out for Julie to top off again.