33. Harper
CHAPTER 33
Harper
Going home—even though it technically wasn’t my home—had never felt so good. Garrett’s car was outside and Owen’s bike leaned against the garage door. They were there. My love and my…
I wasn’t quite sure what Owen and I were to each other yet. He was my baby’s older brother and I liked to think we were friends.
Was I going to end up as his stepmom? Was that where this was going?
I hoped so.
Not that I had any clue how to be a stepmom, especially to a teenage boy. But Owen was so awesome. And if I was, that would mean we were all…
A family.
That was what I loved so much about seeing signs of them outside, knowing they were there. The idea of coming home to a family—a family where I actually belonged—was so tempting and beautiful, it made my heart ache.
I really needed to get myself together. Were my hormones acting up again? I swiped the tears from the corners of my eyes. I was so emotional .
I’d also had a weird day.
The good news was, Mila’s baking audition had gone really well. Her chocolate chip cookies had come out perfectly—rich and gooey, with just the right amount of crispness around the edges. And she had an impressive set of cake decorating skills. Even better, when I’d offered her the job, she’d accepted on the spot. She still had some things to learn, but I thought of it as a good thing. She wasn’t too set in her ways and could learn some of the Angel Cakes tricks.
Having another baker was going to take a lot of pressure off. And the timing was… I wasn’t going to say lucky. But it was fortunate. She’d have plenty of time to get comfortable with our setup before I went on maternity leave.
I got out of my car and walked inside on tired feet. I didn’t see Owen—he was probably upstairs in his room—but Garrett stood in the kitchen, his back to me. He’d already changed out of his uniform into a white T-shirt and gray joggers, and it looked like he was prepping something for dinner.
Making dinner. So simple, and yet so meaningful. I loved him so much.
I put my things down and by the way he shifted his head, I could tell he’d heard me. I went into the kitchen, sidled up behind him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He was warm and solid and strong.
When he pulled me around to his front and put his arms around me, I sank into his embrace, resting my head on his chest. The tension of the day melted, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in him.
I shifted away and he moved in for a kiss. His lips were firm and soft, his kiss indulgent. How had I gotten so…
Nope. Not lucky. I didn’t want to even think it, lest my bad luck swoop in and ruin everything.
He leaned in to speak low into my ear. “Hi, love. I missed you. ”
“I missed you too.”
“How was your day?”
“Good. And also weird.”
“Gross, you guys,” Owen said. “Stop making out in the kitchen.”
Garrett glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to me. With a subtle grin, he kissed me again while Owen groaned.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for dinner.”
“Should we let him go?” Garrett asked, then brushed my lips with another kiss. “Then we could be alone.”
“That’s even worse,” Owen said. “Is this what my life is going to be like now?”
I peeked around Garrett’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Yes.”
He was trying—and failing—to hide his grin. Turning away from us, he jumped over the back of the couch. “Tell me when it’s safe to look up.”
“He shouldn’t hold his breath,” Garrett whispered into my ear, then kissed his way down my neck.
With a soft giggle, I tilted my head. My body reacted to his lips on my skin, sending a burst of heat between my legs. But with Owen one room away, there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
Which was fine. Maybe this meant I could coax Garrett into coming to bed early with me. He was working too much. I was surprised he was in the kitchen prepping dinner, although his laptop and paperwork were strewn over the dining table.
“How was your day weird?” Garrett asked finally.
I had to take a breath to clear my head. His kisses had that effect on me. “First of all, my mom called. I told her about the baby.”
He swiped something off my cheek—probably flour—and kissed the spot. “What did she say? ”
“Pretty much what I expected. ‘What were you thinking? Why are you ruining your life?’ You know, what every daughter longs to hear when she tells her mom she’s making her a grandma. Oh, and she’s declared she will not be called grandma. I told her to let me know what’s acceptable.”
His brow furrowed.
“Please don’t be worried that I’m going to turn into my mother someday. That’s definitely going to happen to my sister, but I’ve always been different.”
He brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m not worried about that. I just don’t understand.”
“Understand what? My mom? Trust me, neither do I.”
“How anyone could not see what a miracle you are.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you knocked me up.”
He pressed another kiss to my lips. “No, I’m not. I’m saying that because I love you.”
“Why are you so amazing?”
“I don’t think I am. I’m just me. But I’m yours.”
I wound my arms around his neck. “You’re so amazing, I’m afraid you’re too good to be true.”
“Is everything else okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just, you remember that guy Matt? The one who’s kind of weird?”
His eyes narrowed and I felt tension creep into his shoulders. “Yes.”
“I ran into him today, outside the bakery. I’m sure it was nothing, but I don’t know.”
“What did he do?”
“Mostly the usual. Brought up some weird true crime story out of nowhere. But then he asked if you’ve found anything on the Joyner case. That’s the one you’re working on, right?”
He nodded, his brow still furrowed with concern.
“I told him I didn’t know. That you don’t really talk about your cases. And then he said something about it being a shame that a killer is on the loose and who knows what he’s been up to all these years. It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it. So then I asked if he thought there have been other victims. He looked right at me and his eyes got wider and he just nodded.” I shivered. “It makes me cringe just thinking about it.”
“He asked about the Joyner case?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he ask specific questions?”
“He just asked if you’d found anything. Something like that. I don’t remember his exact words.”
He shifted away and rubbed his chin. “You said he brings up true crime stories?”
“Yeah. I think he’s really into that. The first time he came into the bakery, he was wearing a true crime shirt, and he started telling me about a case. It was odd.”
“Did you ever find out if he left the bear on your car?”
“No. I should ask him but I’m usually too busy trying to figure out how to get out of the conversation. Especially today. He tried to get me to go home with him.”
His tone hardened. “He tried to what?”
“He asked if I’d go to his house to meet his pet bearded dragon. He has a white van, Garrett. An actual white van. That has to be too cliché to be real, right? He can’t be an actual kidnapper with a white van.”
“Did he try to force you inside?”
“No, nothing like that. I told him no thanks and went back into the bakery.” Suddenly, dots connected. “Wait, didn’t Matt file a complaint about you?”
“He was going to, but apparently didn’t follow through.”
“That’s so strange. He didn’t mention anything about it, not even when he was asking about the case you’re working on. I don’t get this guy.”
I wasn’t sure if Garrett was listening anymore. His eyes were unfocused and he sat down at the table with his laptop. “Could he know?”
“Could he know what?”
“About the package,” he said, almost under his breath, as he started scrolling through something on the screen.
“What package?”
He froze, his muscles tensing. “Never mind.”
“No, what package? The one I got? Please tell me what’s going on.”
With a long exhale, he turned to look at me. “Not long before she was killed, Jasmine received a package from an unknown sender. It had a pair of her underwear in it.”
The shock of what he’d just said reverberated through me like the sound of a gong. “What?”
“That doesn’t mean there’s a connection between her murder and the package on your porch.”
“But it’s the same. I got a package from an unknown sender with a pair of my own underwear. Which is just like the case you’re trying to solve? How is that not a connection? Did she get a murder bear too?”
“No, she didn’t get a bear.”
“But what does this mean? Could Jasmine’s killer be—” I stopped because I couldn’t say it.
He glanced toward the couch, but Owen was wearing headphones. It didn’t look like he could hear us.
“There are other possible explanations,” Garrett said, lowering his voice. “Jasmine’s murder was ten years ago, and as far as we know, he hasn’t killed again. At least not with the same pattern. We don’t even know if he’s still in Tilikum. It’s unlikely the same person would resurface now and start recreating the events leading to her death.”
“But he might, especially since you’re investigating the case.”
“I know. Trust me, I’m looking at every scenario. But I’m also concerned about the fact that the town gossip line has been buzzing about the case. This might be someone who thinks they’re funny playing a practical joke. Or it might be something worse.”
“Like someone reenacting what happened back then?”
“Exactly. The police dismissed the package as being unrelated, so I don’t know if the contents were ever public knowledge. But they could have been, especially when it was a missing persons case, before her body was found. I haven’t had time to look up all the news coverage.”
“So, you’re saying someone could know about the package, especially if they were into true crime?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re talking about the same person, right? Matt?” My head spun and Garrett nodded. “I don’t know. On the one hand, it kind of fits. The way he looked at me today made me wonder if he’s more than just a true crime enthusiast. But on the other hand, unless he’s hiding some serious thief skills, he doesn’t seem like the type who could break into someone’s house without getting caught.”
“I agree, that’s hard to imagine. But you never know.”
“Maybe his awkward exterior is just a ruse.”
“Honestly, it’s possible. I’ve seen stranger things.”
I put my hands on my churning stomach. “I don’t like any of this.”
He stood and gathered me in his arms. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear.”
I took a deep breath, breathing him in. I believed him. But he couldn’t stand guard over me all the time—couldn’t always be there. And if this was someone’s idea of a practical joke, it certainly wasn’t funny.
But the alternatives were so much worse.