Chapter 2 #3
Harper’s hand stalls on the way to her pocket, just for a heartbeat.
Yates watches her with a gentle smile, no malice in his eyes, only what looks like admiration when Harper pulls another piece of jerky from her overalls and gives it to the dog.
He couldn’t possibly know about Harper’s childhood dream of being an animal trainer, or her ill-fated sixth-grade talent show, when her dog Pips shit all over the stage.
But the mark of that coincidence is still written in her face, in the strained set of her lips and the muscle that tenses in her jaw.
“No,” Harper finally says with a forced smile, brushing her hands off on her overalls. “Just a knack for it, I guess.”
“You are indeed a woman of many talents, Harper Starling,” Yates replies, and before he can read anything from Harper’s expression, he turns his attention to Mrs. Evanston.
“I know it’s a very difficult time, ma’am.
But we’ll do everything we can to find your husband.
And I will keep you updated, I promise. Now, why don’t you go with Deputy Collins and get something to eat?
He brought in some vegan muffins. They’re over at the canteen tent. ”
Yates waves the deputy over as Mrs. Evanston gives a shaky nod and picks up Queenie, the dog resuming her yapping as soon as she’s in the woman’s arms. We watch as Collins leads her away by the elbow and helps her to maneuver through the crowd, and once they’re out of earshot, Yates returns his focus to us.
“Such a shame,” Yates says, tsking as he slowly shakes his head.
“And right as we’re in the throes of tourist season.
” He heaves a long sigh and then motions for us to follow with a wave of his hand.
“Come on, kids. Let’s take a look at those maps. ”
Harper and I spare each other a brief, sharp glance before we fall in line behind the sheriff and make our way back to the command tent.
He stops at the table, taking in the tea splotches on the map and my open thermal mug.
It’s the first time I’ve seen a true fissure in his composure.
He carefully peels the soaked paper from the scratched plastic, his expression so cold it burns.
“Clean up your mess next time, Mr. Rhodes. Treat police property with respect.”
I could rip his fucking throat apart with my bare hands. Tear right through flesh and sinew to spill his blood across the ground. And yet, I still feel like some delinquent teenager caught smoking in the high school bathroom. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Just be more careful next time.” He takes a handful of lanyards from the desk. With Harper’s help to hold the paper up, he uses their grips to pin the map to the overhang of the tent’s entrance where it will dry faster in the sun. Then he stands back and surveys the terrain.
“Now that we’re extending the search to two more missing individuals, we need to widen our search radius.
Given both McMillan and Hornell were enthusiastic drinkers, maybe we start with that in mind.
Rhodes, do you have enough volunteers that you can send out a group to start checking the woods behind the Lionshead Motel?
There’s a trail just south of the Lionshead that leads to Loon Lake.
It’s only half a mile from the motel to the water.
Maybe he decided to go for a little swim and never came out. ”
Harper and I move to the sheriff’s shoulder and scrutinize the map.
“I could go. I know the area pretty well,” Harper ventures, her voice cool and steady, as though it means nothing to her if Yates says no.
“I’ll stop by the manor for a minute to check on Arthur, then I could meet a team there if you have anyone to spare, Nolan. ”
Fucking genius. She must have something of McMillan’s that she can plant at the lake, something that would easily explain his disappearance as a drunken drowning.
Judging by the map, Loon Lake is a big enough body of water that a team could drag the bottom for a body and still come up empty-handed.
I take a breath to agree with her proposal when Yates cuts me off.
“Actually,” he says, the earlier edge in his voice softening, “we could use you over here.” Yates’s finger trails across the paper and lands at the Lancaster Distillery.
“The main distillery building is still off-limits with the investigation, but you and Lukas know those grounds and outbuildings. If you can maybe wrangle a bit of Lukas’s time to help with the search, I’d appreciate it.
He should have a few hours to spare, all things considered. ”
“Yeah . . . sure,” Harper replies, and I don’t miss the edge of disappointment in her words. “I can try.”
Yates smiles down his shoulder at her, as though she’s a favorite student while I’m still the loser in detention.
My pulse stutters when his gaze lingers on her longer than it should.
There’s nothing lecherous about it, nothing violent.
But it still sets off an unwelcome tingle at the base of my skull.
“Great,” he finally says. “That’d be a big help. We’ll assign some volunteers to head over there, and another crew to go to the Lionshead. Maybe Bob can lead that team. You got that, Rhodes?”
I swallow the urge to tell him to butt out of the search he asked me to coordinate. He is the sheriff, after all. But it still grinds my gears to give him an acquiescent “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent,” he says with a clap on my shoulder. “Now let’s get to work.”
He digs his fingers into my muscle again and then strides toward the entrance of the tent. But he halts abruptly. There’s an ominous pause as he turns. Like time has distilled into a prison just as deadly as a blade.
“Oh, there’s maybe another man to add to our list, but keep it between us for now. Seems like he was just passing through a few weeks ago, but he never turned up home. Bit of a criminal record on him, unfortunately. Either of you heard of a Bryce Mahoney?”
We both say no. But while I’m telling the truth, I know Harper is lying. It’s in the tiny vein that appears at her temple. It’s in the tension of her lips as she forces herself not to bite down. My guts twist knowing that she’s got another buried secret ready to crawl into the light.
“Didn’t think so,” Yates says, shifting his hat enough to scratch his forehead.
“I’m not keen on adding him to the search just yet, considering Carnage wasn’t the only stop on his road trip.
No need to unsettle Mayor Patel any more than she already is, unless there’s a solid reason, so keep it to yourselves for now.
” We nod, and Yates’s lips curl with a beleaguered smile.
“Who would have thought we’d have all this chaos in a sleepy little town like Cape Carnage, huh? ”
“Yeah,” I reply, resisting the pull to cut a glare at Harper, “who would have thought.”
Yates’s grin widens, and then he departs the tent, leaving behind a silence thick enough to choke on.
I don’t know what’s at Lancaster Distillery. Or where. Or how many bodies or what kind of evidence might be lurking there. But I know I can’t stop Harper. Not with that look in her eyes, determination so sharp it cuts right through the layers of fear and frustration that separate us.
“I have to join this search,” she whispers, preempting any argument. “I have no choice.”
“You’ve got to let me in. Not now, I get it,” I say, turning to face her fully. “But I can’t help you if I’m fumbling around in your shadows.”
Her features soften, just for a moment, her focus dropping to the weight that seems to sit in the dead space between us. “I’ve gotta go,” she says. And before I have a chance to beg, she walks away, leaving me in the dark.