Chapter Twenty-Four Harriet
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harriet
As I’m rounding a corner in the back hallway, I smash into something hard.
“You can’t help but run into things, huh?” Nic says with a shake of his head. He’s wearing a bemused smile and a dark green shirt that matches his eyes with a hoodie tied around his waist.
“Only you.” I swipe my phone from the floor, heart fluttering. I tell myself it’s because of the stress of the kitchen and my brisk walk through it.
Nic raises a brow. “Only me?”
“I mean, your chest is very broad—” I force myself to shut up before anything even more incriminating can come out of my mouth. Your chest is very broad? What’s next? Your thighs are so thick? Your jaw is so perfectly chiseled? I want to run my fingers down it and—
He clears his throat; I can’t read his expression. Thankfully, he changes the subject. “What are you doing back here? Shouldn’t you be out with the guests?”
“I was, but I’m trying to find some seltzer. But instead, I ran into you.”
“Right,” Nic says. “Me.”
He falls quiet, and I scramble for something to say that isn’t brutally awkward this time.
“Patterson just got here.”
This perks him up a bit. “She’s here?”
I nod.
“Well, that’s good news at least. So what’s our plan?”
“Our plan?” I repeat, gnawing on my bottom lip. It’s been almost a week since I’ve seen him. What if I say the wrong thing? I don’t want to scare him off.
He sighs. “Harriet, you forced me to come here, and you don’t have a plan?”
“I mean, I’ve been doing stuff!” I say defensively. “I asked Matthew some questions, but his answers were really unhelpful—”
“Sounds about right,” Nic mutters.
“—and Patterson just showed up. I was about to go talk to her when my mother forced me into this stupid hunt for sparkling water. I’m sorry about the other night, I really am. I hate that she did that when you just trying to help.”
Tears have sprung into the corners of my eyes.
“Hey.” Nic’s voice softens. “That wasn’t your fault. I know that.”
“But you’re pissed.”
He rubs his forehead. “I’m not so much pissed as…
I needed to regroup. Did I want to come today?
No, not really. I can’t go talk to Patterson with your mom out there.
I looked through Matthew’s file yesterday but found nothing suspicious.
Same when I googled him. Our leads are weak, and Sara’s going to be transferred to that other jail on Monday. I’m—”
He cuts off, blowing out a breath.
Without thinking, I step forward, closing the gap between us. Our eyes lock, and my breath hitches. God, he’s beautiful.
Look away, I tell myself, but I can’t. Or maybe I don’t want to.
Our faces inch closer, and my body flushes with heat. I’ve wanted this since my party—maybe even before that. I remember how good it was back then—
There’s a loud shout from the kitchen, breaking the moment in two.
Nic pulls back, clearing his throat. “Well. We’re both frustrated. Let’s table that and find—what did you say you’re looking for?”
I swallow as disappointment fizzes through me. “The seltzer. You work in catering. Where would it be?”
He shrugs. “The walk-in fridge?”
“Do you happen to know where it is?”
“I do.” We curve around a bend, and Nic stops, gesturing to a closed metal door. “This is it. I worked at the club briefly while we were building the business. And who knows?” he adds in a mutter. “I might need the job again soon.”
He yanks the handle, and the door swings open. I step inside, shivering as the cold hits my skin.
Nic flicks on the overhead light and sucks in a breath. “What the—”
A giant metal shelving unit lies broken in the center of the room. Cartons of food are strewn across the floor, split open, bloodred sauces staining the gray linoleum bright.
Nic lets out a low whistle. “What a mess.”
That’s when I see her.
Purple dress twisted. Silver bangle belt snapped in two. Eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. Neck twisted at an impossible angle.
“Holy shit,” Nic says. “Is that—”
Barbara Patterson.