Page 32 of Unwanted

“Thanks, Harper.”

“You’re welcome. Any news yet?” she asked, knowing she didn’t have to specify what she was asking about.

“Not yet. They’re a little bit backed up, but I’m hoping for something by tomorrow morning. Then they’ll be able to release the remains so you can make arrangements.”

Harper was quiet for a moment as she digested that. It was what she’d hoped for, for so long—the ability to lay her parents to rest—but the impending reality caused a lump to form in her throat. She needed to start thinking about burial or cremation and how she’d pay for whichever she chose. She needed to begin making calls and arrangements, but all she wanted to do was stay buried under a blanket on her bed, drinking tea she didn’t like.

“Harper? You there?”

“Yes, sorry. Um, I was also wondering if anything was found in the car or in the trunk? Specifically, a turquoise backpack? It was my mother’s, and she always threw it in her trunk after classes were out.” They’d taken her mother’s SUV that night because the roads were icy and her mother’s vehicle had brand-new tires. Harper remembered that because she liked riding in the take-home sheriff’s car her dad drove and had complained that they weren’t in it that evening. The last car ride she’d ever take with her parents and she’d whined and sulked about everything that evening. She remembered that. To her great regret and shame.

“No. There was nothing in the trunk except a disintegrated blanket.”

Harper frowned. It was possible her mother had left her backpack somewhere else, but that damn quote kept pricking at her mind.

“Okay, thanks. Agent Gallagher, can I ask if there’s an update on the forensics on that bow and the arrows taken from Lucas? If you can’t tell me, I understand—”

“Traces of blood were found on all the arrows that belong to him, but it’s all animal blood. No human matter at all. And none of his DNA is on either arrow used in the murders.”

Harper let out a slow breath. She felt a little odd about the sudden rush of relief, but she couldn’t deny it. Something inside her was rooting for him. Not only that, but she couldn’t see him as a murderer. He’d practically pushed her out of the way to provide assistance to a den of baby foxes, for God’s sake. She’d never once felt afraid, and he hadn’t taken advantage of her even though she’d slept so hard under his roof that she barely knew her own name when she’d woken up. Oh, and there had been drool… Please, God, don’t let him have seen the drool.

“There also doesn’t appear to be any of Lucas’s DNA at the bed-and-breakfast crime scene either. A few prints at Driscoll’s belong to him, but that was expected since he’d been there over the years. None were found in the bedroom where the murder occurred.”

Harper released another slow breath. “So he’s no longer a person of interest?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. But…we have nothing to tie him to either crime at this point.”

“Have you found out anything about his background?”

“No, but I have to be honest, I don’t have anything to go on. Lucas doesn’t appear to want to find out anything about his background, and solving the murders has to be my first priority. I’m going to dig more once I have the chance, but for now, finding out about Driscoll’s background comes first.”

Harper had stood as he’d answered her question, and now she paced once in front of her bed. “The thing is,” she said, turning and pacing in the other direction, “I’ve been wondering what Lucas is doing on his own now that Driscoll is dead and he doesn’t have any access to the outside world.”

“That’s not entirely true. He has legs. He could walk to town if he chose to. Hell, he could move if he chose to. In fact, if Driscoll didn’t have a will that left that house to Lucas, then he might be forced to do so.”

“Walk to town? In the snow and ice?” Harper asked, the barest bit of outrage seeping into her tone.

“I have a feeling Lucas is used to the snow and ice.”

She couldn’t disagree with that. “Okay, but there’s no way he can have any money. He traded with Driscoll using fish and animal skins. What if I at least took him some provisions until he gets his bow and arrows back and…and…things are clearer as far as his living situation?”

“Harper…listen, I’m not your father”—there was a strange catch in his voice and a slight pause before he cleared his throat and continued—“but you don’t know Lucas. And to go out to his house alone doesn’t seem like the wisest choice for a woman on her own. I understand why you did it once, but maybe repeating it should be avoided.”

Harper stopped pacing, sitting back down on the bed. “Okay.”

“Why do I sense that your okay doesn’t mean what I think it means?”

Despite herself, Harper blew out a small laugh. “I appreciate you keeping me updated on the case. Any idea when you might want to look for those map markers?”

“The sooner the better, but the weather forecast doesn’t look promising. They’re saying a storm’s moving in.”

“Just let me know then, okay?”

“I will. And, Harper, please take my words under advisement.”

“I will. I promise.”

They said goodbye, and Harper hung up, tossing her phone next to her on the bed. They’re saying a storm’s moving in…

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