Page 48 of Luck of the Devil (Harper Adams Mystery #3)

He was about to say something when my phone rang. I picked it up from the table and turned it over. The name on the screen made my breath catch.

Keith .

My ex-partner, both professional and personal.

I felt like what little I’d eaten was about to make a reappearance. I couldn’t imagine why he was calling. I hadn’t heard from Keith since November, after his last attempt to coerce me into lying about the shooting. To say things hadn’t ended well would be an understatement.

So why was he calling me now?

I considered ignoring him, then I remembered Mason Deveraux had asked around about me. Going to my old partner was the best way to get information.

Dammit.

I answered the call, squaring my shoulders as I prepared myself to deal with his gaslighting. At the last second, I turned on the speaker and set the phone on the table. Whatever he was calling about, I wanted James to hear.

“Hello, Keith,” I said, my voice cold.

James shifted in his chair. His brow rose, but he said nothing.

“Harper,” Keith said, his voice full of forced warmth. “How are you?”

A year ago, I would have fallen for it. Hell, I had . But we were way past that now. “Cut the bullshit, Keith. You don’t give a single fuck how I am. Why are you calling?”

Keith paused, probably surprised by my tone. “I can’t believe you’re saying I don’t care. After everything we’ve been through?”

James’s jaw tightened, his fingers tightening around his mug.

I shook my head, my anger rising. “I’m not wasting my time going through our history, so once again, why did you call?”

“I heard about your mother.”

“Did you now?” I countered, not bothering to hide the venom in my voice.

“I know you two weren’t close,” he continued, ignoring my sarcasm. “But I can only imagine what you’re going through.”

I rolled my eyes. James shifted again, now bracing his forearms on the table, his body tense.

“You care what I’m going through now ?” I asked, pissed that I’d taken the bait.

“You know that I cared,” Keith said in that soft, manipulative tone he’d always used when he wanted something. “We can’t have shared what we did without it leaving a mark.”

James released a low growl, barely audible, but unmistakable.

“That’s funny,” I said. “Since narcissists usually only care about themselves.” I forced myself to calm down. I needed to regain control. “Which means you’re calling for another reason, so again, stop wasting my time and tell me why you’re calling me after five months.”

“You’re wrong, Harper,” he said in the sultry tone he’d used when he was trying to seduce me. “I do care about you. I miss you.”

Once upon a time, it had worked. Now it filled me with disgust. I just rolled my eyes.

Across the table, James’s knuckles whitened around his mug.

I stayed silent, refusing to fall into whatever trap he was laying out.

“Like I said,” he continued when he realized I wasn’t going to respond. “I heard about your mother, and I was checking on you.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for calling,” I said in a professional tone. “So if that’s all, I’ll let you go.”

“Wait.”

A grim smile of satisfaction spread across my face. He knew how to play me, but I knew how to play him too. “Was there something else?”

James leaned in slightly, posture alert, like he was waiting for the first sign of a threat.

“I got a call yesterday.”

“I’m sure you got a dozen calls yesterday.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded, his tone shifting back to business. “But the caller was asking about you specifically.”

“Who was it?” I knew who had called, but I was curious to get his take on it.

“Someone from the Attorney General’s office. He was asking about your performance as a detective.”

I felt the tension in the room shift—tight, electric—but I kept my eyes on my phone, my expression neutral.

“Really?” I asked. “And did you tell him I was reckless and … how did you put it? Prone to flights of fancy?”

“That was wrong of me,” he said, his tone shifting into something almost apologetic. “I was upset that you were so adamant and wouldn’t take the union lawyer’s advice. I was trying to save your career.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

Across the table, James shifted again, his expression unreadable, but his jaw flexed.

“Harper,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Why is it so hard for you to believe I care about you?”

“Stop.”

“No,” he said, becoming more insistent. “I love you. You know that.”

A lump filled my throat, not because I loved him, but because I’d been stupid enough to believe him. I’d learned the hard way that Keith Kemper only loved one person—himself.

I shoved my emotions aside and focused on the fact that his declaration had very odd timing. “Why tell me this now? After five months?”

“I never made a secret of the way I feel about you, but you cut me out of your life. That was your choice, not mine.”

“We both know it happened because you refused to accept my decision to stand by my word.”

James released a low grunt, almost like he was biting back a comment.

“Look,” Keith said, adopting his I know better than you tone. “That’s all water under the bridge.”

James’s coffee cup hit the table with a loud thunk.

“And you’re right,” Keith continued, “I called for a reason other than your mother. I was worried after the prosecutor called about you. Are you in trouble?”

“Nope,” I said tightly. “And he was likely calling you as a reference since I was the one who contacted him about a case last week.”

“A case?” he asked in surprise. “Are you working for the police department there? You always claimed the Jackson Creek police were corrupt.”

Claimed. How had I never realized how much he belittled my insights?

“No,” I said, ignoring his jab. “I’m a private investigator, and I was working a case for a law firm and thought Mr. Deveraux might have information about a possible suspect.

But it turned out to be a dead end. I solved the case last Saturday.

He returned my call right after I found out about my mother’s death, so I didn’t answer. I suspect he was following up.”

“So you’re not in trouble?”

“Why would I be in trouble?”

James snorted, shaking his head with a muttered curse under his breath, unmistakably aimed at Keith.

Keith was silent for a moment, as though trying to figure out what to say next.

“I miss you, Harper,” he finally said, using the warm tone that had often convinced me to go along with what he’d wanted.

“If you’re a private detective now, then you’d have more business in Little Rock. I can even throw some cases your way.”

“You’re suggesting I move back to Little Rock?” I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief.

“I know you’re hurt by everything that happened last year, but yeah. I miss you. I’d like to start over.”

Keith knew how much I hated Jackson Creek, and that I’d loved living in Little Rock. But there was no way I was going back to be with him. He was delusional. Not after how things ended.

“Thanks for your generous offer,” I said in a tight voice, “but I’m happy where I am. Was there anything else you wanted? Because I need to get back to my case.”

“You’re working another case?” he asked, clearly surprised.

“I’ll take that as a no.” I ended the call and stared at my plate, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“Your ex, obviously,” James said in a dry tone, lifting his coffee to his lips. He held his mug in a death grip.

“No need to tell me I was an idiot to fall for his shit. I figured it out eventually.”

“Narcissists know the right things to say.”

“True enough,” I said, swallowing a wave of self-disgust.

“Do you think he really wants you back?”

I considered it. “Maybe there’s a small part of him that wants me back, but no, I don’t think he really does.”

“So why suggest it?” His tone was casual, but his posture was rigid.

“I have no idea. Obviously, Deveraux’s call triggered it, but why?” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter right now. I need to focus on my mother’s case.”

He set his mug down then looked me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

My neck bristled at his question. “Because an asshole from my past called me? I’m fine.”

“He said he loves you.” His face was guarded, his eyes hard.

“He doesn’t love me,” I scoffed. “And I doubt he ever did. He only loves himself.” I picked up a triangle of buttered toast and took a bite. “Our breakfast is getting cold.”

I could see the question on James’s face, the one he didn’t want to ask.

Did I still love Keith?

Because you could realize someone was terrible to and for you and still love them. I knew that too well.

“I didn’t love him either,” I said quietly, my voice breaking. “I’m not sure what I felt, but it wasn’t love.”

James looked like he wanted to say more but wisely picked up his fork and started to eat.

Keith Kemper was the last person I wanted to think about, but I couldn’t ignore the creeping unease.

Why was he calling now, and why did he want me back in Little Rock?