Page 114 of Long Gone

His jaw clenched.

“Look,” I said, holding out the cup in my hand in a beseeching manner. “You’re holding shit back from me, supposedly telling me what I need to know. This is no different.”

He took another sip of his macchiato, then set the mug on the table as he got to his feet. “I guess we’d better get started on the attic.”

Chapter 26

The attic quickly proved to be a bust. I supposed that I should have been more embarrassed that Malcolm was riffling through forty-plus years of junk my parents had accumulated, but I didn’t have the energy. When he made a move toward the stack of Andi’s things, I told him I’d already gone through them the night before. I was fairly certain he saw Andi’s name written in black marker on the side, because he let it go without a fuss.

Going down the ladder was harder than going up, but Malcolm stood at the bottom, patiently waiting, as though ready to catch me if I fell. Once we were both down, he folded the stairs back up and then we grabbed our things and headed out the back door.

“Where’s your car?” I asked as he headed for the driver’s side of my car.

“Hale had someone pick it up,” he said as we both got in.

“How’d you get here so quickly last night?”

“I was already in town.”

“Doing what?” I asked skeptically.

“Nothing that interests you,” he said as he started the car, but it didn’t have his usual edge.

We were silent as he drove toward my father’s law office. Funny, I technically worked there too, but I didn’t consider it mine. I couldn’t wait to tender my resignation. I’d do it as soon as I closed this case. I’d only taken the job because I was desperate for money, and while I had no guarantee I would make enough money to keep myself afloat, if I worked one more hour in that file room, I was going to drink myself into oblivion. I’d figure out a way to make it work, and if things got dire, I’d take Carter Hale up on his offer to toss me some work.

As though realizing the optics of him pulling into the parking lot and dropping me off, Malcolm stopped at the curb half a block away. “Text me when you’re done.”

I gave him a questioning look. “No coaching on what to ask?”

His grin was more of a smirk. “If you need me to coach you on this, then you’re not as good as I thought you were.”

I got out, letting his compliment hang in the air. While he’d said he needed me, he’d never told me that he considered me to be a good investigator. Was it a ruse to get me to play nicely, or had he meant it? With Malcolm, there was no way of knowing for sure. Any niceties should be taken with a healthy measure of distrust.

When I walked into the office and headed to the back, Becky was one of the first people who noticed me. She shot me a glare so dark I almost needed a flashlight but remained silent as I made my way toward the hall leading to the partners’ offices.

I passed Mitch’s open door, and he caught a glimpse of me as I walked by

“Harper!” he called out, and since I was still in front of the doorway, I stopped. “How’s the investigation going?”

“It’s going well,” I said, refusing to elaborate.

“Anything to report yet?” he asked, anticipation on his face.

“Nope. But I’m making progress and I’m hoping to have something soon.”

His eyes lit up. “You found his secret bank accounts.” His enthusiasm was greater than I would have expected, but then it occurred to me that while I was playing P.I. for him at my filing clerk salary, he probably took Clarice as a client so he could get a percentage of any money I found, including the life insurance policy if I proved Hugo was dead. It wasn’t surprising, yet I was still disgusted by the possibility. I told myself that maybe he’d planned on giving me a bonus, but I knew better.

Mitch Morgan had always been a greedy man. Whether it was money, women, or attention.

I left his office and headed down the hall to my father’s. The door was only open a crack. I studied his name on the plaque attached to the heavy wood.

Paul Adams

Attorney at Law

I’d visited his office more times than I could remember when I was a kid, and I’d always viewed his name plate with a certain awe and respect, but now I felt like my father wasn’t the man I’d thought him to be. To be fair, he didn’t know me all that well either.

I knocked on the door with my left hand but didn’t wait for him to answer. I pushed it open and found him sitting behind his desk. His white dress shirt and blue tie were neat and pressed, but dark circles underscored his eyes. He looked older than he had the night before, when I’d meet him at the tavern.

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