Page 77 of Deathmarch

“She had a concussion.” He got behind the wheel. “Somebody needed to keep an eye on her.”

“I can’t go home. Please, Harper? I’ll just hang out and watch TV until you get back from work.”

“I already have a guest,” he said as he pulled into traffic. “Allie is still there.”

“That bitch!” The nice melted right off Brittany. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Not your business. The hit-and-run might involve her ex-boyfriend, so I’m trying to keep her safe.”

Brittany opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, then folded her arms around herself. “She’s probably lying. Does she know she’s coming between us?”

“There’s no us, Britt. We’re not a couple. We never were. If I gave the wrong impression, I’m sorry.”

While she argued about that, seductively and passionately, Harper drove her straight to her parents’ place less than half a mile away, and then he let her out in the driveway.

She fixed him with what Harper used to privately call the-princess-is-not-pleased look. “You’re going to regret this and come begging. And I’m going to forgive you, but I’m going to make you suffer first.”

She slammed the door behind her and marched away.

Thank God, because Harper couldn’t take this much drama in the morning. He could definitely not live with someone like Brittany, he thought as he backed out of the driveway and headed toward his original destination.

Allie had problems, sure, but they weren’t imaginary or her own making. In fact, his morning with her had been so drama-free, she’d still been sleeping when he left for work. And he’d wished she’d been awake so they could have had breakfast together.

He pushed all that from his mind as he rolled into the parking lot at the station.

Robin wasn’t in yet. Harper glanced at the clock on the wall. Half an hour left before Brody Cash’s appointment.

Time enough to review the case, so Harper printed out what new information he had, then carried the stack to the conference room where he had the murder board up. He was in a hurry, but not in too much of a hurry to pick up a call from the boss.

“Captain. How is Quantico?”

“Summer camp with bombs and automatic weapons.”

“Take me with you next time?”

As the captain laughed, Harper spread out his typed-up observations on his remaining suspects. The corkboard on the wall was too small to hold all the pages.

“Any news on the hit-and-run?” The captain started with the small potatoes.

“The SUV was borrowed from a driveway for the night, the best I can tell. Still can’t track down the ex. Called his employer. Supposedly, he’s on vacation. They have no idea where. I’m working on it.”

“How about the Lamm case?”

“Cleared Dave Grambus yesterday. Guy can’t put on boots. Gout. It’s a miracle he can walk. Cleared Frank Carmelo too.”

“Grambus is the I-know-my-rights type. He fought a parking ticket once for six years. I’m surprised he cooperated.”

“We have their gold, but their silver stash is still missing. He wants us to get on with the case.”

“What cleared Carmelo?” the captain asked. “My money was on him. Still waters. Those are the ones to watch out for with a crime like this. People who sit quietly in a corner and plan.”

“Neighbor heard him in the apartment.”

“Are you interviewing anyone today?”

“Brody Cash this morning, then Dicky Poole this afternoon.”

“First time talking to Dicky?”