Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
HARPER WOKE, surprised she’d slept, but her body had broken down to the point that it needed sleep whether she had nightmares or not.
Flashbacks of Amanda and Tracey being pulled from the container.
Her, helpless to stop any of it, to save anyone as they were tugged screeching out of that dark box, awaiting an even darker fate.
Her chest ached, her stomach hollow. She glanced up to find Deck asleep in the recliner.
His hair was mussed, and his face rested on the scrolled wooden railing next to the recliner.
He looked adorable and just what she needed to cheer up, at least a little.
Full happiness, outside of Deck, would be hard.
The trauma and sheer pain of what happened wouldn’t leave for a long time, but with Deck .
. . happiness abounded. It was weird how pain and joy could coexist, but the Bible talked about it.
Despite still being angry about what she’d been through, she couldn’t begrudge God for bringing Deck into her life and letting her meet such a brave, supportive woman as Tracey.
Nor could she not thank Him for letting her escape—the only one to make it to safety from the container.
She had been wrong. God had been with her all along.
She’d just been too scared and hurt to see it.
She didn’t understand why He’d allowed her team’s kidnapping, but she didn’t understand why He allowed numerous other things.
It came down to trust, and she trusted God was good, even when traumatic events happened in this fallen world.
And He had her. He’d died for her, and pain, sorrow, and trauma wouldn’t exist in eternity.
Deck shifted, the scrolled pattern of the railing imprinted on his cheek. She bit back a laugh, not wanting to wake him. But it was too late.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Did you sleep?”
“I did.”
“Good. You needed it.”
“Apparently you did too.” She walked over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’m going to go get us coffee.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Carry On Wayward Son” played on his phone, and he pulled it from his sweatpants pocket. Looking at the text, his eyes widened.
She paused. “What’s up?”
“Joel thinks Nick may run.”
“He didn’t come back from the golf trip last night?”
“He did, but apparently Joel talked with Morgan this morning.”
“The mistress?” Harper was thankful they’d been unable to question the woman yesterday since she was with Nick. Restraining herself would have been difficult, to say the least.
“That’s the one.”
She rested her hand on her hip. “And?”
“Nick was trying to talk her into moving with him somewhere overseas. Joel’s heading over as soon as he can make it, but he had a call up in Taos for domestic violence and will be close to an hour.”
She started running for the foyer as he speed-dialed Joel.
“Where are you going?”
“To get dressed.”
A half hour later, they approached Nick’s door. Harper lifted her hand to knock, then paused and gestured to the door.
“What is it?” Deck asked, then his gaze dropped to the open slit between the door and the frame. He moved toward a window.
“Hello?” she called, knocking on the door. The house was dark inside, no lights on. “His car was in the drive—”
Suddenly, Deck moved in front of her, gun drawn. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
“What do you . . . ?” She followed his outstretched finger. Nick Jackson lay in a pool of blood at the base of the stairs.
Cameras flashed as Joel directed the crime scene team scouring Nick’s home and preserving evidence. Then he knelt beside the body.
“To state the obvious, the victim died from a GSW to the chest.”
“What time are you placing death?”
“Last night. I’d say between ten and midnight.”
“So . . . after he returned from his outing with Morgan?”
“Yeah.” Joel stood. “With no forced entry. I’d say he knew his killer.”
“Wish we did,” Deck said with a tilt of his head.
“It’ll come,” Joel assured him. “Sometimes it just takes a bit. But we’ll get him or her.”
“Her?” Harper asked. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
Joel shrugged. “You never know.”
“When you have a minute, could you see if Taylor’s hairbrush is still here?”
“Of course.”
She still wanted to prove Nick had poisoned her friend even if he’d already received his sentence in a way.
She waited outside while Deck accompanied Joel upstairs, heading for Tay’s bedroom and the vanity drawer she’d directed them to.
Five minutes later, they returned with Tay’s pink hairbrush in a sealed evidence bag. “I’ll sign this over to you,” Joel said, writing down the chain of custody.
“I’m going to get this to the lab straightaway.”
“I’ll drive,” Deck said before turning back to Joel. “Keep us posted.”
“Will do. I have a feeling this will be an interesting one to solve.”