Page 94 of Dying to Meet You
“It’s okay, girl. You’re bigger than she is, and this is your turf. Lean into your own power.”
Lickie is uncertain.
We all traipse to the kitchen together, where I get the coffee started and let Lickie out. Then I pick up the phone to see if the lawyer got back to me and instead find an email from Detective Fry.
Rowan, I hope this message finds you well. The Portland PD requests that you sign the following form authorizing the release of your phone’s data to help further our investigation. Messages between you and the deceased can help us build a case. Details that might seem inconsequential to you could help us paint a picture of his final days.
It is vital that you assist us before 5 p.m. today, or we will be forced to ask a judge for a court order. Ignoring this request will naturally cause us to wonder who you might be protecting by withholding it.
Detective Captain Fry
Portland Police Department
I close the email, feeling queasy. And then I open it again and click on the attachment. The document is a nightmare, giving them access to everything on my phone, including photos, videos, plus all apps and messages.
They probably know I visited Harrison yesterday. And now Fry probably thinks I’m helping him get away with murder.
My hand shakes as I reach for a coffee mug. When my phone pings a second later, I assume it’s the police, pressuring me again.
But this time it’s the litigator.
On my way to see Harrison at the jail.
I wonder if hiring her was a mistake. I’ve made myself look even more guilty. And her hourly rate is sky high on the weekends. This lawyer was on Beatrice’s list of Wincott family favorites, so of course she’s expensive.
But I’m doing this for Natalie. And if Harrison breaks my daughter’s heart, I might actually become the murderer that Fry thinks I am.
Full of nervous energy, I scrub the kitchen sink, and then all three bathrooms. Then I vacuum, even though Natalie is still in bed. She’s supposed to be pounding the pavement for a summer job, so I don’t even feel guilty about the noise.
When eleven o’clock comes, I’ve stress-cleaned most of the house. The lawyer calls shortly afterward, putting me out of my misery.
“Hello?” I answer quickly.
“Rowan, I’ve been to see him.”
“Was he okay with it?” I made no attempt to warn Harrison that I was sending him a litigator.
“Mostly. He asked me my rates. I wasn’t going to deflect. But I told him you’d hired me just for the hearing tomorrow. He says he wants to pay you back in full.”
“Fine. He and I will speak about it later.”
“I’ll be calling his employer today, getting a statement in support of his recent work history. And I’ll be emphasizing at the hearing that his living arrangement was a minor, unintentional infraction. He was actingin good faith. There was no contraband found on his person or in the room he rents. His drug test is also clean.”
Clean.
I close my eyes and picture Harrison sitting across the table from me yesterday, making me laugh even in the grimmest circumstances. He told me straight up that he wasn’t on drugs.
And it was true.
“Does any of that matter, though?” I ask. “Aren’t the cops going to argue that he’s a suspect in a murder investigation?”
“They can try. It will be my job to convince the judge that the two cases aren’t related, and that a little bit of half-assed circumstantial evidence isn’t enough to imprison a man. The judge knows it’s wildly expensive to keep an inmate for no reason. He also knows how badly the police need a suspect. But if the police had any real evidence of Harrison’s guilt, they’d have charged him already.”
“Is there any way to know what the cops found?”
“Not directly,” she admits. “But Harrison provided a lot of detail about what questions they’ve asked him. It seems like his biggest problem is his timeline on the night of the murder, and the fact that he was playing the same club where they found the gun.”
My stomach drops. “Yeah, that’s a hell of a coincidence.”
