39. Garrett
CHAPTER 39
Garrett
I grabbed my phone before heading out, trying to push down the undercurrent of desperation. The flowers were a ticking clock and an important clue. If Phillip had been back to buy another white arrangement, I’d know he was ready to make his move. And I could find a way to trap him.
And if not, I wasn’t about to let my guard down. But at least it would tell me if I had more time to find what I needed to put a proper case together.
Either way, my priority was Harper. Yes, Jasmine deserved justice, and I’d do everything I could to make sure she, and her family, got it. But before I could do that, I had to make sure my woman was safe.
The florist wasn’t far from the bakery. I’d check in there, then go pick up Harper myself. If my suspicions were correct, we needed a lot more than the well-meaning SPS patrols. I wanted the fucking secret service, but I’d have to make do. And I didn’t know who I could trust at work. They already thought I was paranoid.
I couldn’t tell them about Phillip. Not yet. Not until I had evidence. And I couldn’t trust anyone else to keep Harper safe. The only people I did trust ?
My family.
Thankfully, Owen was already at my parents’ place. I’d take Harper there. It was perfect—only one way in or out. And I’d loop in my brothers. We’d fill the house, and it didn’t matter how good he was, he’d never get through an entire family of Havens.
I stalked out of my house, amped with adrenaline. I tried to call Harper to let her know not to leave the bakery yet. She didn’t pick up, so I left her a quick voicemail.
“Hey, love. I’m coming to pick you up. Don’t go anywhere yet, just stay at the bakery. Love you.”
I was about to get in my car when something caught my eye.
A package in front of the garage.
My heart almost stopped dead in my chest and a surge of dread spread through my gut.
No. It couldn’t be.
Delivery people never left packages over there. They always brought them to the front door.
Which put them in sight of my doorbell camera.
This one was clearly outside the camera’s field of vision.
I walked over and picked it up. No label. No return address. Nothing. Just a blank box. I tore off the tape, and although I knew exactly what I’d find inside, it still made my insides twist.
White funeral flowers.
No. Fuck that guy.
In a rage, I threw the box and rushed to my car. I turned on the engine and my phone rang. Harper.
“Hey, love,” I said, my words coming out in a rush. “Don’t leave the bakery. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you right now.”
She didn’t reply. Had she butt dialed me?
“Harper?”
Still nothing .
I looked at the screen. The call was connected. Where was she?
“Harper, I can’t hear you. Maybe you have a bad connection. Can you call me back?”
It wasn’t her voice that answered. It was a man. “No.”
Icy cold fear blasted through my chest. “Let me talk to her.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Don’t you fucking touch her.”
“Can the heroic detective catch the killer before he claims another victim?” He was disguising his voice. It didn’t sound like Phillip, but it had to be him.
“Do. Not. Touch. Her.”
“Too late for that. But I will let you in on a secret. She’s still alive. For now.”
“Prove it. Let me talk to her.”
The call went dead.
“Fuck!”
A second later, a text came through from Harper’s phone.
I opened it to find a photo. It was dark and she wasn’t looking straight at the camera, but that was her profile.
The bastard had her.
Where was she? The surroundings could have been anywhere. A room, a closet, a basement.
A root cellar?
I flew out of the car, ran to the house, and went into the garage. The bolt cutters were exactly where I thought they’d be. I grabbed them and raced back to the car.
Pulling out onto the street, my mind raced. Tracking her cell phone would be too slow. Even in an urgent case, there was always too much back and forth getting the cell companies to comply. It wouldn’t get me to her fast enough.
Besides, all Phillip had to do was turn off her phone. The best we’d be able to do would be last known location. He was well aware of how that worked. He helped us write warrants for this kind of thing all the time.
And I didn’t know who I could trust.
Jack? Kade? The other deputies? The department itself?
In that moment, I was no longer a deputy. No longer a cop. If saving her cost me my career, so be it. I’d do anything. Phillip was not going to kill her. Or our child.
Her phone didn’t matter. I knew where she was. And I knew who I needed to call. I brought up Luke’s number and hit send.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” he answered. The connection sounded spotty.
“Don’t talk for a second, just listen. I know who killed Jasmine Joyner. And he has Harper. Remember that old barn and root cellar?”
“What the fuck? Yeah, I remember.”
“Meet me there. Now.”
“I’m on the highway heading back to town, but I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
It was all coming together. He’d abducted Jasmine and driven her out into the woods. She’d lost her bracelet when he’d pulled her out of the car. He’d dragged or carried her to the root cellar where he’d killed her, then left her body near another trail.
Phillip was an outdoorsman. A hunter. He’d be accustomed to hauling elk, deer, whatever he was hunting, out of the woods. Moving a woman’s body, even over a distance, wouldn’t have been hard for him.
He was recreating his crime. Only this time, Harper was his intended victim. The packages, the flowers. The taunts, showing her he was watching her.
As for the rest, he’d been trying to get me out of the way. Get me in trouble at work so they’d take me off the case—off his case.
I hated that I’d made Harper his target. Would he have chosen her as a victim if I hadn’t started investigating the cold case? I didn’t know, but I doubted it.
There was only one thing I could do. Catch the fucker.
Driven by single-minded determination, I flew out to the trailhead. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, burning away any remaining fatigue. He’d called to taunt me, and I knew it. I just had to hope this was part of his game. Part of the sick pleasure he got out of it. I had to believe she was breathing. That he’d wait, draw it out.
Time. Just a little more time.
Hang in there, Harper. I’m coming.
I pulled into the lot at the trailhead. Ignoring the cars already parked there, I went around them and drove into the woods. If someone could get a stolen car through the area, I could get through too. I’d drive as close as I could to the old barn and root cellar, saving precious minutes.
The trees grew thicker and I had to stop or risk hitting something. My heart thumped hard in my chest as I slammed the gear shift into park and jumped out of my car. Where was Luke? How far behind was he?
I called him again, but this time there was no answer. Voicemail.
Probably in a dead spot.
I trusted him. He was on his way. But could I afford to wait?
Shit.
Nope. Couldn’t do it. If I was even a minute too late, I’d never forgive myself. I grabbed the bolt cutters and took off at a run. Luke would catch up. He knew the way.
The dilapidated barn came into view. I rushed past it and stopped in my tracks.
The root cellar door was wide open.
From where I was standing, I couldn’t see into the dark interior. Was she there? Or was this just another taunt? Another attempt to make me think I was crazy .
I took in the surrounding area, wary of any sounds or movements. But I didn’t see a thing. Approaching the cellar slowly, my senses on high alert, I looked around for the lock. Nothing. No lock. It was as if it had never been there.
“Harper?”
I heard the footsteps behind me just before the pain hit. Every muscle in my body went rigid and it felt like being battered with a hundred wooden clubs moving at lightning speed. I fell to the ground, unable to stay upright, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
A taser. It was a fucking taser.
Five seconds felt like an hour. But as soon as the electrical current stopped and my body started to regain movement, he hit the trigger again.
I needed to get the barbs out. But I couldn’t move. My teeth ground together and the pain was unimaginable.
My arms were wrenched behind my back and fastened together. I couldn’t tell if he used handcuffs or something else. The taser stopped and he lit it up again. I rode the lightning while he bound my ankles, every part of my body screaming in pain.
The taser stopped and my muscles unclenched, but as soon as I tried to move, I got a sharp kick in the ribs—right at my liver. It almost made me vomit.
“None of that,” a male voice said.
“Phillip, you piece of shit,” I ground out between gritted teeth, my face in the dirt.
“Swear at me all you want. It won’t help.”
“Fuck you.”
“Good. I want you angry. It’s going to make this so much more fun.”
I didn’t hear another word. For a split second, I felt the explosion of pain at the blow to my temple before everything went dark.