Chapter 7 #2
“You should be,” he’d said, his voice tight with rage.
“We tried to hire a lawyer to fight it, and three different attorneys told us it wasn’t worth the risk.
They said the prosecutor would plead it down to a misdemeanor and she’d get probation.
If we went to court, there was a chance she’d lose and go to prison for five to ten years. ”
“So she took the plea.”
“Obviously,” he had said with plenty of venom.
“She’d just graduated from high school. My parents wouldn’t let her go to the university in Fayetteville and made her stay in Little Rock so they could keep an eye on her.
Between her anxiety after the arrest and the way her life got yanked sideways, she dropped out at the end of her sophomore year. Now she works at Target.”
“I’m sorry,” I’d repeated.
“Are you?” His lip had curled. “You and your lazy-ass cop friends are the reason her life got derailed. She still gets freaked out when she sees a cop.”
“Is that why you didn’t testify?” I’d asked softly.
Fire had burned in his eyes. “Why should I trust anything any of you have to say?”
“You’re right,” I had conceded. “Why should you?”
My question had caught him off guard.
“But I’m not like the officers who arrested your sister.” I’d leaned forward slightly, keeping my voice level. “I don’t look for the easy answers, Bobby. I do the work because I want to get things right. I don’t always succeed, but I try my damnedest.”
“I’m sure that’s what they all say.”
“Actually, no,” I’d said with a bitter laugh. “Some don’t give a shit.”
He’d blinked in surprise. “I can’t believe you admitted that.”
I’d shrugged. “It’s the truth. And I believe in telling the truth.”
After that, I’d started stopping by every few weeks, partially to ask about his sister’s well-being, but mostly just to talk. If I could convince him that not all cops were assholes, then I’d consider it a win. It helped that he was good company.
Less than six months later, he gave me at tip on another murder case I was working. Turned out, he had cousins with criminal ties, and they liked to talk when they got drunk. Bobby’s only stipulation was I never reveal where I got my information, and he’d keep telling me what he heard.
And surprisingly, he heard a lot.
Two years later—shortly after he moved to the Brass Magnolia when it opened—he admitted he’d been scared to testify about the murder he’d witnessed. A crime boss connected to his cousins had come around and told him if he testified, he’d “mess up” his little sister.
So it turned out Keith and I had both been right. Not that Keith ever knew. I’d kept my promise, and no one knew where the information I got from Bobby came from.
Now, Bobby was glancing around the bar. His breathing was shallow, his shoulders tight. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
He was nervous I was there. Why?
I hadn’t been in since the shooting last October. Did he think I’d murdered that boy in cold blood, just like everyone else? Did he think the past five years had been one long con?
“I moved back to my hometown in the middle-of-nowhere Arkansas,” I said. “But I’m back in town and thought I’d reach out.”
“You’re not a cop anymore,” he said flatly.
I wasn’t surprised he knew I’d left the force. The news outlets had made sure to let the public know they were safe. “You’re right. I’m not. But I am still investigating cases, I just don’t have a badge to go along with it.”
Bobby didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked more anxious.
“You obviously aren’t happy to see me,” I said, deciding there was no reason to beat around the bush. “We’ve been friends long enough that I’m hoping you’ll tell me why.”
“Were we friends?” he shot back with plenty of attitude. But I could see a flicker of hurt in his eyes.
So he believed the news reports and thought I’d been conning him.
I leaned closer to the counter and lowered my voice. “I didn’t kill anyone in cold blood, Bobby. The kid had a gun. The department set me up to take a fall, although I have no idea why.” I held his gaze. “I plan to find out, but I’m working on something else first. I really hope you can help me.”
His posture softened a fraction, but he didn’t look eager to resume our friendship.
“Remember when you told me about your sister? And I admitted that some cops don’t give a shit, but that I did?” He didn’t respond, but I kept going. “Who better to push off the force than the person who cares?”
The words came before I really thought them through, but then I did, and they hit me hard. Why hadn’t I considered that before? If there were dirty cops, maybe they thought I’d gotten too close to something. It made sense to not only get rid of me but discredit me in the process.
Bobby’s eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Oh shit.”
“I told you cops weren’t trustworthy.”
I wanted to argue not all cops, but I couldn’t find it in me. “Well, I’m not a cop anymore.”
He glanced toward a man who’d stepped up to the bar several feet away. “We’re pretty busy tonight.”
“I only have a few questions, then I’ll take off.”
He grimaced. “You’re gonna need to order something. Your usual?”
“Just a club soda.”
His brow lifted. “Really?”
I’d always come by off the clock, and even though I hadn’t been an alcoholic back then, I’d loved a good whiskey. I could almost guarantee I’d never ordered a non-alcoholic drink from him before. I shrugged. “I’m working a case.”
His eyes narrowed. “You just said you weren’t with the police.”
“I’m not. I’m a PI now.”
He didn’t respond as he filled a glass from the soda gun and set it in front of me.
I placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. He slid it toward him and pocketed the bill as he moved down to help the customer.
I picked up my glass and took a sip, bitterly missing the burn of whiskey.
One day at a time.
One minute.
Bobby’s attitude had me on edge. Maybe it would soften his demeanor if he had a few minutes to think over what I’d told him.
If he believed I wasn’t trustworthy, he wouldn’t give me anything useful.
But even worse—all the time I’d spent nurturing our friendship, hoping to prove not all cops were the same, would be tossed out the window.
He pulled two beers for the guy, then came back to me.
“Why are you here, Harper?” He looked more receptive, but he wasn’t the easygoing Bobby I’d known last September.
“Have you ever heard of the Knoxes?”
I studied him for a reaction to the name but didn’t get one.
“Who’s that?”
“You’ve never heard of them?”
“Should I have?”
“Probably not,” I said. “I’ve heard they’re pretty private.”
“Then how would I know who they are?”
Yep, he still wasn’t convinced. He never would have talked to me in that tone last fall.
I leaned closer, keeping my voice low. “This is important, Bobby. I’m working a human-trafficking case.”
He flinched, his eyes widening.
“Does our agreement still hold?” I asked. “That whatever we tell each other stays anonymous? Make no mistake, it still does on my end. I need to know it holds true on yours.”
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”
Relief washed through me, but I didn’t linger on it. “Thank you.” I leaned in a little more. “The Knoxes are running an operation here in Little Rock. Are you sure you’ve never heard of them?”
He shook his head. “No, never. I can ask around if you want.”
I would love nothing more than to have him talk to his cousins, but I couldn’t risk his safety. If the Knoxes were as dangerous as I believed, they wouldn’t tolerate anyone asking about them.
“No,” I said firmly. “Don’t do that. I don’t want you popping up on their radar.”
“That bad?” he asked.
I gave him a sideways grin. “They have a bounty on my head.”
His face went a little green as another customer approached the bar. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got to take care of this, but I’ll be back. Okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He gave me a worried look as he headed over to his customer.
I wondered if I’d said too much, but I’d always trusted that anything I told Bobby stayed between us. Telling him my life was in danger seemed to have given him more motivation to help.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone approach the bar near the entrance. I did a double-take when I realized it was James.
I checked my phone but didn’t see any missed texts. Had my five minutes passed and he’d come in to check on me? Why hadn’t he texted first?
Strangely, I wasn’t upset. Especially since he’d perched at the other end of the bar, pretending not to know me. In fact, he didn’t look my way at all.
The female bartender on his side walked up to him. He must have said something witty, because she released a flirtatious laugh.
Jealousy pricked me, sharp and fast, but I took a deep breath and shoved the feeling away.
Either James wanted me or he didn’t. I wasn’t going to fight anyone over him.
Besides, I was pretty sure getting hit on in a bar was a regular occurrence for him.
He was just usually on the other side of the counter.
Still, it was hard to resist glancing over at him.
Bobby returned a few minutes later with an apologetic look. “I’m super busy tonight, Harper, not that I think I have anything that could help you anyway.”
“You haven’t heard any rumors about trafficking?” I asked quietly.
He grimaced. “Sure, I hear rumors here and there, but nothing of substance. More like people presume it’s happening.”
“Any names tied to the rumors?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Your cousins don’t talk about it?”
“They’re not mixed up in any of that,” he said too quickly. “But I could maybe float the topic…”
I shook my head. “No. Don’t. If you went fishing on purpose and we used what you got, it might blow back on you.”
His brows shot up. “We?”
“I have a friend helping me.”
Bobby took a step back, fear filling his eyes. “You told them about me?”
“Absolutely not.” I kept my voice steady, even as my stomach tightened. “I swore to you I would never reveal who you were, and I mean it. I’ll take your name to my grave.”
He grimaced. “God, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Me too, but I swore to keep your identity a secret, and I take that seriously.”
Even as I said the words, guilt gnawed at me. James could see exactly who I was talking to. It would take him and Carter less than an hour to find out Bobby’s identity, and that was being generous.
The truth was, I’d led James to Bobby. I didn’t think James would do anything to Bobby or even tell anyone else about him, but I hadn’t been careful. What if someone else had followed us here and was watching me now?
I must have done a good job of hiding my inner turmoil, because relief washed over Bobby’s face.
“I know you take it seriously. It’s just…
I spent the last six or seven months thinking you weren’t who you said you were.
Especially when you didn’t come back after all that shit went down.
I mean, I knew you’d left the police, but I thought we were friends. ”
“I did stay away.” I swallowed. “But it was because I was embarrassed and ashamed about what happened. I was public enemy number one. I wasn’t going anywhere in public.”
His mouth shifted to the side. “I guess that makes sense.” Sadness filled his eyes. “It still sucked.”
“I know. And I should’ve come by and told you my side of the story. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “No, you were dealing with other shit. And it sounds like you’re in even worse trouble if there’s a bounty on your head.”
I grabbed a slip of paper out of my jacket pocket and placed it on the counter. “If you see or hear anything you think might help me, will you call or text me at this number?”
He picked up the paper—a corner torn off the hotel stationery with my burner number scrawled across it. “I’m not sure I’ll hear anything, especially if I’m not asking any questions.”
“Definitely don’t ask questions.” I kept my voice firm. “I want you to have as much distance from this as possible. And don’t worry. I have a few other people to talk to.”
He tucked the paper into his pocket. “Be careful, Harper. It sounds like you’re in the middle of something really dangerous.”
I grinned. “Dangerous is my real last name.”
He laughed. A couple of years ago, he’d told me I was the least aggressive cop he’d ever met, and I’d told him that was because he wasn’t a threat. Any threat I faced would see a different side of me. After that, he’d started calling me Miss Dangerous.
His laughter faded. “Seriously, Harper. Be careful.”
“I intend to.”