28. Garrett
CHAPTER 28
Garrett
To say I was amped would have been an understatement.
After helping Harper pack some of her things, we left for my place. No way in hell was she staying at her house. Someone had been there. Had taken a pair of her underwear and sent it to her.
Just like Jasmine.
Taking a girl’s panties had the whiff of a prank to it. It was so cliché, it was almost silly. But this wasn’t just a stolen pair of underwear. The fact that whoever had taken them had then left them outside her house seemed like a message.
I couldn’t ignore the possibility that someone was out to fuck with me, and that someone wasn’t Jasmine’s killer. It had been all over the Tilikum gossip line that I was investigating the case. A person with a sick sense of humor might have decided to mimic the events leading up to Jasmine’s murder, targeting my girlfriend.
The problem was, the packages Jasmine had received weren’t common knowledge. Because the original investigators had written them off as unrelated—without confirming, which was driving me nuts—they weren’t part of the lore of her unsolved murder .
And my gut was telling me this was no prank. It was a taunt.
My shoulders and back were tense as I drove. Harper was quiet. I knew she was worried, and the sense of violation that accompanied a breaking and entering could run deep. Our homes are meant to be our safe places. Knowing someone with ill intent had been inside her home—in her bedroom—was bound to make her unsettled at best. Terrified at worst.
The whole thing pissed me off. No one fucked with my woman.
I reached over, clasping her hand in mine, and she gave me a weak smile.
“Everything will be fine,” I said, willing it to be true. “Whatever is going on, it won’t touch you at my place. You’ll be safe.”
“Thank you. I’m just so confused. Who would break into a woman’s house just to take a pair of her underwear—and not even the cute ones—and send them back to her?”
“I don’t know.”
I hadn’t told her about the similarities in Jasmine’s case. I’d been trained not to share details of the cases I was working on with anyone. Plus, I didn’t want to scare her. Maybe I was wrong and there wasn’t a connection. She had enough on her mind already.
When we got to my house, I grabbed her things and brought them inside. Owen was on the couch playing a game on his phone, but he got up as soon as he saw Harper.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
No way was I telling Owen about the package. “I thought it would be best if Harper stayed with us for a while.”
“Cool.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take over your room or anything,” she teased.
“I wouldn’t want you to. It’s gross in there.”
“Maybe you should clean it up,” I said .
He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “Dad, I think she should pay rent, though.”
I shot him a confused look. “What?”
“In the form of cookies.”
She laughed. “That, I can do. Should we whip up some now?”
“You don’t have to do that, love.” I wasn’t sure why I kept calling her that. It just slipped off my tongue so easily. “You bake all day at work.”
“Yeah, but I love doing it. Besides, I’ll make him do all the work.” She gestured toward Owen.
Then it hit me what was happening. They were bonding. My son and my girlfriend wanted to spend time together.
My heart just about burst out of my chest.
“Great,” I managed, and my voice was only slightly rough. “I’ll bring your stuff upstairs. I need to make a call anyway.”
“Thank you,” she said.
I moved closer and leaned down to brush a soft kiss across her lips. Then I lowered my voice and spoke next to her ear. “Don’t say anything about the box.”
“Wasn’t going to,” she whispered.
I kissed her one last time, and she laughed when Owen groaned with mock disgust.
“Okay, bruh.” She headed for the kitchen. “What do we have to work with?”
I left them to their baking and hauled her things up to my room. I’d never shared this bedroom with anyone—we’d lived in a different house when my ex and I had split up—and there was plenty of extra space. It helped that I didn’t have a lot of stuff. I was a pretty simple guy.
With Harper busy with Owen downstairs, I decided to call Jack. I needed to know what he wanted me to do about that package she’d received, and fill him in on its possible connection to the Jasmine Joyner murder .
“Jack Cordero,” he answered.
“It’s Garrett.”
“Yeah, Garrett. What’s going on?”
“You have a minute? I need to walk you through something.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“My girlfriend Harper found a box on her doorstep when she got home from work today. No return address, no postage. Inside was a pair of underwear. It’s very likely that it’s her underwear. Matches a set she has and there’s a pair missing.”
“Huh. That’s disturbing. Any signs of a break in?”
“No. Whoever did this got in and out and didn’t leave a trace.”
“Where is she now?”
“My place.”
“Good.”
I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed. “There’s more. Now, hear me out on this, because I know it might sound like a stretch. But you know the Jasmine Joyner case?”
“Yeah.”
“Jasmine received a similar package shortly before she was murdered. A box with a pair of her underwear in it.”
“Is that in the case file?”
“Sort of. When her sister was interviewed, she mentioned Jasmine had received a couple of strange packages shortly before she disappeared. But everyone assumed they were from an angry ex-boyfriend. He had a solid alibi for her murder—he was in Alaska—so the investigators at the time assumed the packages weren’t related to the case.”
“How do you know they were Jasmine’s underwear?”
“It’s not something I can prove, but that was what Jasmine and her sister believed at the time. They were an exact match.”
“Was she also missing a pair? ”
“They didn’t know. That would be hard to determine anyway. Do you know how many pairs of underwear you own?”
“Good point. I doubt my wife does, either.”
“Exactly. But Jack, Harper is missing a pair. We’re sure of it. When she bought them, it was a set of six, and we could only find five. We looked everywhere. Not only was someone in her house, they’re possibly mimicking one of the precursors to a murder I’m currently investigating.”
“And you think it could be Jasmine’s murderer.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s a possibility.”
He paused for a moment and I heard his long exhale. “I’m going to have Spangler investigate the possible break in at Harper’s house.”
“Jack—”
“Don’t argue. It’s policy. You aren’t working your girlfriend’s case. But I’ll let him know about the possible connection to the Joyner murder. If signs point to this being the same guy, we’ll need all hands on deck anyway. You’ll be involved.”
My jaw hitched. She was my woman, I wanted to be the one to investigate. But he was right, it was department policy. There wasn’t anything I could do. And Spangler was a good guy.
“Okay.”
“And be careful. If this is really connected, and I’m not saying it is, you know what it means.”
“Yeah, it means a lot of things. It means the killer is not only still out there, he’s still in Tilikum. And he’s very aware that someone is looking into his case.”
“It also means he’s good. Not a lot of guys can get in and out of a house without anyone knowing.”
“He’s evaded us for a decade. He’s obviously good at a lot of things. ”
“Indeed,” Jack said. “I’ll pass this on to Spangler and he’ll be in touch soon. Where’s the package?”
“It’s on her kitchen counter. Her prints will be all over it. Mine aren’t.”
“Got it. Listen, personal question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Is Harper uh… expecting?”
My brow furrowed. “How do you know about that?”
“Rumors. Figured if she is, you should know people are talking. And if she isn’t, same thing. You should know people are talking.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “She is. It’s new. Damn it, I haven’t even told my family yet.”
“No one will hear it from me.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
“Sure.”
He ended the call, and I blew out another breath, trying to stay calm. But adrenaline coursed through my veins and my mind raced. How had someone gotten into Harper’s house without her knowing?
Even more importantly, who was it? Was it the same person who’d killed Jasmine?
It might not have been my job to investigate the break-in at Harper’s house, but it was absolutely my job to protect her.
I went downstairs to the sound of laughter in the kitchen and paused at the bottom of the steps. I could just see into the kitchen from where I was standing. Owen was mixing something in a bowl while Harper leaned against the counter. I didn’t know what they were laughing at, but it was funny enough that Owen had to stop what he was doing for a second. Harper clutched her stomach and tears ran down her cheeks, she was laughing so hard.
I grabbed my chest, like a guy having a heart attack. I wanted this. I wanted it so much, my soul ached for it. The two people I loved more than anything, laughing while they baked cookies.
It looked like a future. It looked like a family.
I’d given up on that. Pushed it aside, because I’d thought my chance was over. I’d married the wrong woman and that was that. Owen was the best thing in my life, and I’d never regret him. But I’d truly believed single fatherhood was as good as it was going to get for me.
But maybe, just maybe, I’d been wrong.
And I dared to hope that the three of us—soon to be four—would actually be able to create a family.