Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
HARPER INCHED BACK, studying Deck’s stunned expression. She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Nick said, George beside him. “But we were wondering where you two got to.”
She tilted her head. “We?” George barely knew her, let alone Deck. Why would he be curious or concerned?
“George and I.” Nick pointed between himself and his friend. “George mentioned you were on the patio, so I came out to see you, and you were nowhere to be found.”
She rubbed her arms. “We came down here to see the water.”
“Uh-huh.” He chuckled.
This was not a chuckling day, unless it was out of fond memories and fun stories about Taylor, especially ones about her exploits. They were legendary with the family, and Harper’s heart ached they’d never have another adventure together again. At least not this side of heaven.
“Did you need me?” she asked, her hand in Deck’s. His fingers intertwined with hers.
“I thought it would be nice if a few people spoke for Taylor. You being her BFF, I assumed you’d like to say a word.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t prepared for that. But . . . “Sure. I’d be happy to.”
“Great. Let’s head on up.”
She nodded with a smile and cast Deckard a sideways glance that said That was a close one.
Not that she knew exactly what she had with the cremation coin.
Only one thing made sense, but it was an absolutely horrid thought: Nick had dumped Taylor’s ashes, for whatever reason, into the fire pit—cremation coin and all.
Entering the house, Nick once again offered to take her coat.
“I’m good, thanks.” She tugged it tighter around her. “Still got a chill.”
Nick held up his hands. “Of course. If you want to, go ahead and stand by the mantel, by Tay’s urn, and recollect a good memory you have of being together. Sort of like a bridesmaid wedding toast—like you did for us. Just a different focus.”
Yes. A funeral was a far different entity than a wedding, for goodness’ sake.
She swallowed. “Will do.”
After picking up a fresh mug of cider, she moved to stand by the urn, curiosity flooding her brain and body. If she could just take a look inside—see if Taylor’s ashes, maybe even cremation coin, were still in there. Perhaps if she were clumsy. Not enough to spill it. Just to take a glance.
She shifted her gaze to everyone packed in the living room and those crowding along the walls surrounding it, all waiting for her to speak. Yikes. Too many people.
She placed the mug on the mantel, and Deck nodded reassuringly.
She took one breath—or rather tried to gulp one in, like she did while swimming, though she’d never quite gotten her breathing right when it came to water. Always gulping furiously mid-freestyle.
She took another deep breath. She could do this—for Taylor.
“Where do I begin . . . ? Despite going to the same college for undergrad, Taylor and I actually met in a department store. She was registering for her coworker Naomi’s wedding.
Apparently, Naomi didn’t have time for such tasks.
Taylor was laughing, and it was contagious.
I went about my business, wondering what was so amusing when all of a sudden, we both reached for the golden frog.
For me, it was a gag gift for a white elephant exchange at work.
For Taylor, she was registering every ridiculous gift she could find.
We started chatting and ended up having coffee—and the rest is history. ”
“What happened to the frog?” Susan asked.
“On the bookshelf.” Nick pointed to the case around the corner from where she stood. Seeing the frog always brought her joy, except today.
She shook out her hands. Focus. “Taylor was smart, savvy, sassy, and a ton of fun, while still being right at your side during the difficult times. I hope you all have a friend so close. I will miss Taylor until the day I meet her in heaven.”
Everyone clapped, and she made her move. She lifted her mug off the mantel a little too close to the urn—and it toppled.
She heard Nick gasp as she caught it.
“Good catch,” he said, quickly crossing the room.
“I don’t think anything came out.” She discreetly opened it before he made it to her side.
Just as she’d suspected—empty.
Did she make a big deal of it now, or wait and see what they learned about the coin?
Wait until they had more evidence on Nick—on his movements and the possibility of his guilt.
If she played all her cards now, it would only alert him to cover his tracks, and that was the last thing she wanted.
Besides, maybe it was all a misunderstanding.
Perhaps she was wrong—but she certainly didn’t believe so.
Someone had taken her friend’s life. Her gut was adamant. Her spirit even more convinced.
“Here.” She handed the urn back to Nick, lid in place.
He clutched it like a football tucked to his chest and returned it to the mantel.
“Please be more careful next time. She’s my wife.”
“So sorry for my klutziness.”
Nick nodded, clearly not thrilled, but once he settled the urn just how he liked it, he returned to his seat.
“Next up?” he asked as Harper sat next to Deckard, who’d settled in an oversized chair big enough for two people if they squished.
He reached over and took her trembling hand. “We’ll get him,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickling the loose strands of hair against her neck. “If it was him, we’ll get him. I promise.”
She nodded, already trusting his confidence in their ability to get Nick. When Deck made a promise, he stuck to it like a bareback rider to a horse’s mane.
Susan stood next, and she’d barely gotten into her story when Harper’s eyes brimmed with hot tears.
“It’s going to be okay,” Deck whispered again. “It’ll take time, but you’ll be okay. I know it.” He took hold of her hand again. She glanced about the room, thankful they had a nearly secluded spot. She was half on his lap, but it was the only seating for some level of private conversation.
She was glad he knew she’d be okay, because normal was the last thing she felt.
She was stuck in the middle of a muck pit, praying God would set her on a solid rock again—but how could He, when she doubted His goodness?
But how could she doubt His goodness after all He’d brought her through?
Guilt raked through her, overwhelming sadness saturating her.
It was too painful to think on, so she yet again shoved it down.
Her gaze dropped to their interlocked fingers. Deck was comforting her, that was all—comfort for a friend.
She left her hand in Deck’s—but only to get through today. She was getting far too used to him holding her than she should have allowed. Clingy wasn’t her, and that’s how she felt—like a well-meaning, friendship-based pity case. And it irked and embarrassed her to no end.
Carefully, she extricated her fingers from his and rested both her hands on her lap, her own fingers intertwined.
She needed to get back to her brave, courageous self. If only God would help. But she couldn’t get past what He had allowed, so maybe it was best if she didn’t talk to Him at all. The thought lodged in her throat.
I am your God. Remember me.
Tears sprang unbidden in her eyes.
Deck studied her out of the corner of his eye, confusion etched on his brow at her pulling her hand away, but it was for the best. She could not become dependent on another—especially when he was only being a friend. That level of comfort would cease one day, and then where would she be?
Susan wrapped up, followed by the next handful of speakers. By the time they finished, Harper was a borderline blubbering mess.
Deck leaned over. “You about ready to go?”
She nodded and stood. “Just one little thing.”
He nodded but tracked her with his gaze.
She stepped to the bookcase, examining the photos. Looking for the frat one Susan mentioned. Bingo. A group of a half dozen guys, half bent in a Hulk-man pose in front of what had to be a frat house. A large red tapestry with white Greek letters hung on the house behind them.
“You see something?” Nick asked, startling her.
Turning, she nearly bumped into him. “I was just looking over pics of Taylor.”
“Really?”
Was he outright questioning her?
“Ready, honey?” Deck asked, swooping in by her side.
“You’re leaving?” Nick asked.
“Yeah . . .” She pushed the loose strands of hair that had escaped her messy bun back into the scrunchie. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Sure is.” Although he looked like he was taking it in just fine. Not a tear shed, though he’d pinched his nose and sniffed a few times. “Well . . .” He shifted to hug her, but thankfully Deck intercepted him, sliding his arm around her waist and tugging her to him.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. Was he scrutinizing her and Deckard’s relationship? Whatever it was. She didn’t know herself.
Nick curled his index finger around his belt loop. “Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”
When Harper stepped outside, the brisk wind slapped her face with a waking chill—a focusing chill.
Creaking sounded around the side of the house, a sob echoing in the distance.
Harper gestured with her head, and Deck nodded. They followed the sounds and found Taylor’s cousin Anne on the porch swing. Steve leaned against the wooden frame.
“You okay?” Harper kept her voice soft.
“Yeah.” Anne clutched a balled tissue in her hand.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was such a sudden death. While I hated seeing my dad suffer through cancer, at least it gave me more time with him. But Taylor . . . one minute she was on the phone with me. The next, I got the call from Nick. Completely unexpected.”
“Agreed.” Harper shuffled, then leaned in and lowered her voice, though it was just the four of them, and Deck was already deep in conversation with Steve. “Did you know about Taylor being unhappy with Nick?”
Anne’s brow furrowed. “No. Why? Did she tell you that?”
“She said it wasn’t what she hoped for.”
“I’m sure it was hard, struggling so much to have a baby.”
“Yep.” Anne either didn’t know about the affair, or she wasn’t bringing it up.
“You ready?” Deck said.
She turned to find him right behind her with Steve and Susan. “Yep.”
After giving Susan a hug and Steve a finger wave, she climbed into Deck’s truck and pulled the evidence bags out of her pocket.
He started the engine. “Where to?”
“My lab. We’re going to find out if these are human remains. If so, we have a way-deeper mystery going on.”