Page 32 of Luck of the Devil (Harper Adams Mystery #3)

We were all quiet for a moment. I had no idea what my grandparents were thinking, but my mind was in turmoil. Had my mother up and decided she had no further use for her parents? How could she just write off her family for no reason?

A little voice in the back of my head reminded me I’d pretty much written off my own parents, but then again, my mother had made that decision for me. She’d spent her life cutting people off.

Hadn’t I done the same thing? Sure, I hadn’t ghosted people, but I hadn’t let them get close either.

At least I was in good company.

A hollowness opened deep inside me, revealing a void that had always been there. A typical black hole pulls everything in—planets, stars, even light. But mine did the opposite. It repelled relationships like two magnets forced together at the same pole.

My palms began to itch, and my throat went dry. I needed a drink. I was desperate for a drink, and a whiskey bottle was three feet away from me.

As though reading my mind, Malcolm grabbed the bottle and poured a tiny amount into the empty glass and handed it to me. I took it with a shaky hand, then gulped the contents down.

“Oh, Harper,” my grandmother said, reaching over and patting my arm. “I’m so sorry. Here I am takin’ badly about your mother and you just lost her.”

I took another gulp, finishing what he’d poured for me, but I still wanted more. I put the glass on the table and put my hand back in my lap, hoping the burn would settle my nerves any second now.

Then Malcolm put his hand on my leg, and a surprising calm washed over me. Some of my anxiety dissipated, but I refused to let myself dwell on why.

“Is that why you came here?” my grandfather asked. “To tell us that your mother had died?”

“Dad said he didn’t tell you, and I felt like you needed to know.” I drew in a shaky breath. “How did you find out?”

My grandmother shot a look at my grandfather, then gave me a grim smile. “Hannah. She saw it online.”

I knew Mom’s accident had made the local news, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for my aunt to have heard about it. The last I’d heard, she lived in Jonesboro too.

“I can’t believe you came all the way up here to tell us,” my grandfather said. “Even though you thought we might turn you away.”

“I hoped that you wouldn’t, but if you did, I would have understood.

I thought you wrote me off with my mother, but there was actually another reason.

” I suspected they knew about my shooting incident in Little Rock, but there was a chance they didn’t.

I hated to bring it up, but they deserved to know everything about me before wholeheartedly welcoming me back into their lives.

I paused, preparing myself for the rejection I’d expected.

“I was a detective in Little Rock and last fall … something bad happened.” I drew a breath. “I shot and killed a teenager.”

My grandmother and grandfather exchanged a glance, then they both gave me sympathetic looks.

“We know about that too, Harper,” Grandma said. “We saw it on the news.”

I grimaced. “I guess you’d have to live under a rock to have missed it.”

“For what it’s worth,” my grandmother said with a look of determination, “I never believed you lied. You said you saw a gun, so you must have seen a gun.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “How can you say that? You haven’t seen me since I was fourteen, and you’d barely seen me for a few years before that. How could you be so certain?”

“We know who you are, Harper,” my grandfather said. “You always had a good heart. You wouldn’t have shot the boy if he hadn’t had a gun.”

“I’m not sure if you realize it,” Malcolm said, “but other than me and her friend Louise, you two are the only people who believe her.”

My head swiveled as I gaped at him. I’d told him my story two months ago, and he’d believed me, but this was something different. It felt like he was declaring he was on my side.

My grandmother’s face lit up with adoration as she pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m so glad she has you and her friend in her corner.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man,” Grandpa said with a nod.

My deceit about Malcolm’s true identity was eating at me. What would my grandparents say if they knew James Malcolm was a notorious ex-crime boss? I couldn’t imagine my grandfather would call him a good man if he knew about his past.

“I’m not surprised about Sarah Jane turning her back on you,” Grandma said. “She never could abide bein’ in the center of a scandal. She much preferred to be the one doin’ the judgin’, not bein’ judged.”

That fit with my own assessment of my mother.

“But your father,” my grandmother continued, “he didn’t stand by you either?

“No,” Malcolm said before I attempted to sugar coat it, “not until she lost everything and his conscience got the better of him. When she lost her house, he came to Little Rock and offered to let her move into their garage apartment.”

My grandmother tsked. “I don’t understand that. He always doted on you and your sister. I would have thought he’d move heaven and earth to protect you.” She stopped short, her eyes widening slightly. “Then again, I guess he couldn’t keep your sister safe from that kidnapper.”

I bit my tongue to keep from telling her that my mother had blamed me for not keeping my sister safe. I’d already dragged her memory over the coals. No need to roast her anymore.

“He changed after Andi,” I said. “He became more quiet. More distant from all of us. He didn’t handle it well.”

My grandmother pressed her knuckles to her mouth. “We should have reached out to you, Harper,” Grandma said, shame washing over her face. “Especially after you graduated from high school and went to college. Little Rock isn’t that far away. We could have tried to visit you.”

“You knew I went to college in Little Rock?” I asked in surprise.

She grimaced. “Hannah found that out too. At the end of your first semester, she saw your name on the Dean’s List.”

Did Hannah have an alert set up to notify her every time my or my mother’s name appeared on the internet? Or had she just searched online in an attempt to find me?

I realized I needed to speak to my aunt before I left town … provided she was still living in the area.

“That was very resourceful of her,” I said. “But there’s another reason I’m here.”

My grandfather looked surprised. “Oh?”

How did I admit my mother had been missing for days and we hadn’t noticed? “My mother’s death wasn’t?—”

“It took everyone by surprise,” Malcolm said. “Especially when we learned she’d packed a suitcase and was going on a trip without telling anyone.”

Had he thought I was going to tell them she was murdered? Or was he trying to play the part of the supportive friend? Why wasn’t I more annoyed that he’d interrupted me?

And why was I letting him keep his hand on my knee?

But I left his hand in place as I said, “We’re confused about why she was leaving and where she was going.

After Andi died, she pretty much refused to spend the night away from home.

In fact, I can’t think of the last time she went on an overnight trip, let alone packed a bag for multiple days.

We have no idea where she might have been going and why she left. ”

My grandfather frowned. “She didn’t tell your father she was leaving?”

“They were separated,” I said. “My father left her about a month ago, so they weren’t speaking to each other much.”

Grandma slowly shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe he left.”

“What happened?” Grandpa asked.

I saw no reason to lie. “Because my mother was mad that he’d asked me to come home. He hated how she treated me.”

“Oh,” she said, her face turning pale, then she seemed to come to her senses enough to reach over the arm of her chair and take my hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this, Harper. I’m so, so sorry she turned her back on you.”

“It’s funny,” I said with a short laugh. “After he left, she was more interested in spending time with me than she ever had been, even before Andi’s death.”

Based on the horror in her eyes, my statement didn’t seem to make her feel better. My grandfather turned away, looking like he was about to cry.

“You have us,” Grandma said, squeezing my arm. “Isn’t that right, Gary?”

My grandfather nodded, then turned to face me, his eyes glassy. “That’s right.” His words were rough with emotion. “You have us.”

While I appreciated their love and support, I couldn’t let myself bask in it. Especially not right then. I had a job to do. They didn’t seem to have any information that would help me find out who killed my mother, but I wondered if my Aunt Hannah might.

“Does Hannah still live in Jonesboro?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Grandpa said. “She’s a second-grade teacher at the elementary school down the street. It’s where she and your mother went to school.”

“That’s sweet,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was close to four, which meant she might have already gotten out of school. “Do you think she’d be open to seeing me while I’m here?”

Grandma clasped her hands together as her eyes turned glassy. “She’d be thrilled. How about I ask her over for dinner? You and your friend James can stay, and I’ll roast a chicken.”

“No need to make dinner,” I said. “We don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense!” she protested. “We would love to have you eat with us. It’ll give us a chance to catch up more.”

“We really need to—” I started to say before Malcolm interrupted.

“We’d love to stay.” He squeezed my knee slightly. “Thank you for your generous offer, Shirley.”

I smothered down my irritation. We needed to get back to Lone County and keep digging into my mother’s death. Sure, I would love to continue this stroll down memory lane, but if my aunt came over soon, we could have a short, contained conversation. Not a possibly hours’ long event.