Chapter 20
Louise
Jennifer Harper enters the conference room and drops into a chair at a long table opposite Louise, Cutty, and Bruce Ghadiali.
“Thanks for coming, Harp,” says Louise.
Harp gives her a tight smile. “You’re fucking with my livelihood, Louise. Now I’m the P.I. who sells out her clients.”
“That’s why we immunized you. You can say you had no choice—”
“Yeah, I’m sure my client will be real understanding.”
Cutty turns on the video camera.
“I’m Detective Louise Pratt with the Grace Park Municipal Police.
With me is my partner, Detective George Sarkisian, and Bruce Ghadiali from the Cook County State’s Attorney.
We are here to interview Jennifer Harper.
We’re investigating the suspicious death of Finley Brice, which we have reason to believe occurred on April first of this year. Today is Tuesday, April seventh, 2026.”
Three days after they discovered Finley’s body. And two days after Louise discovered that Harp was Allison’s private investigator. Bruce Ghadiali, who is as eager as she to learn more about Allison Brice, was quick to provide an immunity deal and get them to this moment.
Harp purses her lips as she stares at the glossy conference room table. “Jennifer Ann Harper,” she says when asked her full name.
“And for the record,” says Louise, nodding at the video camera, “let me lay out the scope of our agreement. Ms. Harper, you will answer questions about your work as a private investigator for Allison Brice on personal matters only, not work involving her law firm clients, which are privileged. The state has provided you with transactional and use immunity for your testimony. Is all that consistent with your understanding?”
“Yes.” Harp leans back in her chair.
“And you understand, Ms. Harper,” adds Bruce, “that your immunity doesn’t protect you from perjury and obstruction charges if you lie to us.”
“Gee, thanks.” Harp rolls her eyes. “I was only an FBI agent for nine years.”
“Ms. Harper, are you aware that on February sixteenth of this year, 2026, Luke Rankin was arrested while driving a car down Interstate 57? That state troopers discovered a large quantity of oxycodone in the trunk of the vehicle?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Were you aware that the vehicle was registered to someone named Trinity Casto?”
“Yes.” Apparently, Harp is going to limit her responses as much as possible.
“Have you ever met Luke Rankin?”
“No.”
“Trinity Casto?”
“No.”
“But you’ve heard of Trinity Casto? You know of her?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever talk to Allison Brice about Trinity Casto?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us what you discussed,” says Louise. Try answering that with a yes or no.
Harp lets out a sigh, as if bored. “She was friends with Luke. Luke was interested in her, but she did not return the feeling. She runs a gym in Dearborn Park. She has a brother with a rap sheet for selling Oxy. She wanted to do a documentary or something, some reality-based thing, about Luke’s life.
And apparently, Luke was going along with it. ”
Louise scribbles notes as Harp speaks. “What was Allison’s opinion of Trinity?”
Harp gives that some thought. “She was suspicious of her. Wary. Wary’s a good word.”
“Why was she wary of Trinity?”
“Because Trinity’s brother had two convictions for selling narcotics. And Trinity runs a gym. And when Trinity would visit her brother at Olivet Nazarene, about once a month, she’d do it on a Monday, a weekday. Apparently that was the only day her gym was closed, but still.”
Bruce leans forward. “Allison thought Trinity Casto was involved in drug trafficking?”
“She thought it was possible,” says Harp.
“Wouldn’t you? At least wonder? Wish I could say that drug dealers don’t recidivate, but a lot do.
And a gym? Traveling on a Monday? So yeah, Allison’s been in law enforcement her whole career.
Yeah, she suspected it. So did I, based on those facts.
And turns out, we were right. She’s not only a drug trafficker, but a smart one. ”
“Smart in what way?” Bruce asks.
Harp opens her hands. “She was feeling heat, so she sent Luke to drive the car. She used him as a canary. Her hands stay clean. You guys couldn’t possibly make a possession case against her when she was nowhere near the car at the time.
” She taps her index finger to her temple.
“Smart. Luke goes down, she walks, and the government has now shown its hand.”
“When—when did you learn all this?” Louise asks.
Harp shrugs. “When Luke got arrested.”
“No, I mean—your first conversation about Trinity Casto. When Allison first told you her suspicions about Trinity Casto’s involvement in drugs.”
“Couldn’t tell ya, Lou.”
“But it was before Luke’s arrest.”
Harp’s eyes drift upward to her right. Once upon a time, that would’ve told an investigator that the suspect was creating an answer, whereas the eyes move up and to the left to recall an actual memory.
Louise never put much stock in scientific hypotheses like that.
But there’s no denying that Harp is taking a while with her answer.
“It was before Luke’s arrest,” she finally says.
“Some time before Luke’s arrest, Allison told you that she suspected Trinity’s involvement in the drug trade.”
“Yes.”
Bruce pipes up again. “Ms. Harper, you’re aware that a confidential informant tipped off the state troopers to be on the lookout for that vehicle.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who that confidential informant was?”
“It’s confidential,” she says. “And unless things have drastically changed since I was an agent, it stays confidential unless the informant was involved in, or a witness to, the crime. That’s not the case here. So nobody will ever know but the informant and the cop he told.”
Louise watches Harp, who remains still, composed.
“Now, Ms. Harper,” says Bruce. “When—”
Louise puts her hand over Bruce’s. “You didn’t answer the question,” she says.
Harp shakes her head. “I feel like I keep answering the same question over—”
“No,” says Louise. “Mr. Ghadiali asked you if you knew who the confidential informant was. And your answer was ‘It’s confidential.’ ”
“Which is true,” says Harp.
“Yeah, but Mr. Ghadiali’s question was a simple yes-or-no. And you seem pretty good at giving one-word answers when it suits you, Harp. This time, you didn’t answer yes or no.”
“This is ridiculous.” Harp throws up her hands. “By definition, a confidential—”
“Do you know the identity of the confidential informant?” asks Louise. “Yes or no?”
Harp wets her lips, struggles a moment. “Um…”
Louise feels a smile spread across her face.
“Ms. Harper? Who tipped off the state police about Trinity Casto’s car?”
Harp takes a long moment with that one. Her mouth opens, but words don’t come out. Then she smiles, gives one begrudging shake of her head, and drops her hands on the table.
“I did,” she says. “I was the confidential informant.”
“At whose direction?” asks Louise. “Who told you to tip off the state police?”
Harp closes her eyes, grimaces, as if swallowing a bitter pill.
“Allison Brice,” she says.