Page 14 of Hide and Seek
“Of course,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t want to put you out of business.”
Harper laughs and fiddles with my music when I glance over at her. “Tell me what really happened with that bruise on your shoulder,” I tell her. “And this time, cut the shit.”
She cringes, and her hand falls away from my dashboard. “I technically wasn’t lying,” she tells me, shoving her handsunder her thighs as though that could somehow keep me from getting to the bottom of this. “I was coming out of the morgue, misjudged my stride, and slammed my shoulder straight into the metal edge of the door. Hurt like a bitch.”
I narrow my stare on her. “You’re still lying to me, Harper-Rayn. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, so I suggest you start talking. Otherwise, I can guarantee that this is not going to be a comfortable ride for you.”
Harper glances away, and the guilt flashing in her eyes is more than enough to tell me that I’m heading down the right track. The only question is, why does she feel the need to lie about this? What’s she keeping from me?
“It’s . . . It’s really nothing,” she finally says, the shift in her tone like a silent plea for me to drop it. “And you’re going to think I’m insane.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and I give her a moment to string her thoughts together. The seconds turn into minutes, and just when I’m about to demand answers, she shifts in her seat and glances toward me. “Do you still work as an active SWAT officer? Like being called out to scenes every day?”
I nod and glance down at the black tactical pants and boots I’m still wearing from my shift. “What gave it away?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs again. “Are you going to be an ass the whole way home? Or are you going to chill the fuck out at some point?”
“Well, damn, Morticia. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Yes,” I respond with a sigh. “I’m still an active SWAT officer. Team leader to be exact. I’m in the field every day. But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with your shoulder ending up black and blue.”
Harper ignores me and continues with her line of questioning. “How common would you say stalkers are? And I don’t just mean someone sending threatening letters with newspaper cutouts like in the movies. I mean, how often are women getting slaughtered by crazed, sick men?”
Slaughtered?
My head whips toward her, and I bring my truck to a screeching stop in the middle of the empty highway. “The fuck are you talking about? Is someone stalking you?”
Her eyes go wide, and she looks around in a panic. “What the hell, Knight? You can’t just stop in the middle of the road. Someone will run into us.”
“I’ll stop wherever the fuck I want. Now answer the goddamn question. What the fuck is going on? Is someone stalking you?”
“No—I . . . I don’t know,” she finally says, her tone filled with an odd mix of fear and exasperation. “It’s just something kinda weird happened at work last night. It’s the first time anything like it has happened, and to be completely honest, I don’t know if it was real or if I just made it all up in my head, but it freaked me out.”
“Start talking, Harper. I’m not fucking around this time. Give it to me straight.”
“Can you at least pull over to the side of the road? I don’t feel like becoming roadkill tonight.”
I groan and hit the gas, moving over just enough to satisfy her before fixing her with a heavy stare and completely cutting the engine to make a point. “The fuck is going on?”
“Okay, so last night—”
“In the morgue?”
“Yes. I was working on a report—”
“Alone?”
“Jesus. Yes. Are you going to interrupt every sentence that comes out of my mouth?”
“Only if you don’t hurry up and give me the information I’m looking for.”
Harper scowls at me. “You’re impossible. You know that right? You’d think as a trained officer, you’d have a little more patience with shit like this.”
I grip the steering wheel, white-knuckling it as I try to find my composure. “For the love of all that’s holy, Morticia. Tell me what the fuck happened in that morgue.”
