Page 113 of Luck of the Devil

“I’m thinkin’ the factory where we met Drew Sylvester.”

It was an abandoned site, so there were plenty of places to hide. “I’m not sure he’ll meet me there. It’s creepy as fuck.”

“He will if you give him the right incentive.”

I shook my head. “I still haven’t uncovered anything that outright incriminates him.”

His brow lifted. “He doesn’t know that.”

He had a point. “Okay, when should we ask him to meet us?”

“Let’s wait until dusk. Then I can hide in the shadows.”

I still had my doubts that my father would agree, but all I could do was try. “Okay. How about we wait until after the dinner rush so you’re not leaving your staff in a bind?”

He gave a stiff nod. “Sounds like a plan.” Then he gestured to my mostly untouched food. “Eat, especially the roast beef. Your body needs protein to fight this.” He lowered his voice. “Did you take your pills yet?”

“Not yet.”

He gave me a pointed look, and I grabbed the bottle out of my bag, shook out the pill, then washed it down with water. I took a bite of the beef, exaggerated and theatrical. His grin told me he was on to me before he turned and walked away.

My eyes were drawn to him—the spread of his shoulders and his waist tapering in a way that made my pulse quicken. I was an idiot to think someone like him would be attracted to someone like me. Not after the mess I made of my life. Not after everything he knew about me. Sure, we were getting along, but he saw me as a partner in our investigations, and he was smart enough to know you didn’t mix business with pleasure. A message I should have heeded before I’d gone to bed with Keith.

I was smarter now.

Even if my hormones weren’t.

I continued working the rest of the day. My booth was tucked away so very few people noticed what I was doing, and those who did didn’t seem to care. I gathered pages and pages of information, making new connections. Several times, irritation washed over me. My mother hadn’t even left me a note explaining what all of this was about. She’d just dumped a pile of documents in my lap, and I could practically hear her saying, “You think you’re so smart. You figure it out.”

Just as the dinner rush started, my phone rang. I saw Louise’s name on the screen, but I let it go to voicemail. I didn’t feel like telling her about my trip to Jonesboro, and I didn’t want to lie. I’d talk to her tomorrow—after I confronted my father.

But as I watched the call go to voicemail, it struck me that my father hadn’t tried to contact me all day. If he knew about what had happened at the bank, wouldn’t he have attempted some kind of damage control? And if he was clueless, he should have called to check on me. Then again, he’d gone years without checking on me.

Which begged a new question: what had motivated him to come to Little Rock and insist I move back home?

I shook my head, feeling the dull pounding of a headache at the back of my skull. I needed to focus on the facts and keep my personal shit out of this.

Another employee brought me a plate of baked chicken and roasted potatoes for dinner. I took several bites, hoping it would help my headache. So far, the Lorazepam was helping with my detox symptoms, and I wasn’t feeling drugged up.

A while later, my phone rang again, and I was startled to see my father’s name on the screen. It was a little after eight, and I realized I’d lost track of time. I should have already called him to set up a meeting.

Steeling my back, I accepted the call but didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.

“Harper?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” I said past the lump in my throat. “Hi, Dad. Sorry. Almost dropped the phone,” I lied.

“It’s okay. How’re you doing today?” The kindness in his voice nearly killed me.

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes, but I couldn’t think of how to answer.

“Did you talk to your grandparents?” he asked softly.

His behavior was confusing me. He wasn’t acting like a guy who knew he was guilty, but then again, he’d been this way my entire childhood. Maybe he was an amazing actor.

“I know about your mistress,” I said flatly. While I didn’t have absolute proof, there was plenty of evidence stacked against him.

I should have given more thought into how I was going to handle this call, but I was in it now. I needed to keep my shit together.