Page 119 of Long Gone

“To ensure his client privilege,” I said.

He nodded. “I didn’t cash them, but I saved them.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long envelope, opening it to show me a thin stack of checks. “But not long after that, he got into his own mess of trouble, and after he died, the checks stopped coming.”

“And you didn’t go to the police then?” I asked.

“No. Hugo was gone. J.R. was dead. What good could have come from it?”

“Maybe finding Hugo Burton?” I prodded.

He shook his head, his jaw tight as his eyes glittered with defiance. “Hugo’s long gone. He took the money and ran.”

“You don’t believe that,” I said, dread building in my chest. “You freaked out last night when you thought I had proof that Hugo was murdered. That’s part of why you ran.” I held his gaze. “You think he’s dead, and you believe J.R. Simmons was responsible.”

His face lost more color. “I never said that. I never even implied that.”

“Still, you don’t believe he ran off. Did J.R. admit to killing him?”

He shook his head, his eyes glassy again. “No. I never asked, and he never admitted to anything.”

“But he was there within a day, cleaning out Hugo’s paperwork and switching out his computer. Sounds pretty damaging to me.”

“J.R. Simmons is dead. There’s no point in rehashing it.”

I’d never been more disappointed in him, but at least he wasn’t a murderer. “What about Hugo’s wife and kids? I had lunch with Anton two days ago. He hasn’t gotten over his father’s disappearance. Finding out what happened to Hugo won’t bring him back, but at least his family will get closure.”

He stared at me in silence.

“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me anything else?”

“There are dangerous people out there, Harper. You need to stay away from this.”

“Why?”

“Because me, Brett, and Skip Martin are the only ones who’ve survived this mess!” he half-shouted. “Bill, Tim, and Pete Mooney all died after Hugo left.”

Then a new thought hit me. If the men searching the house and apartment weren’t sent by Malcolm, then… “Who did you talk to last night after you left the tavern?”

He looked stricken. “What?”

“Someone broke into the house and then my apartment last night. They were looking for something, Dad. It happened right after we had dinner. I checked out Hugo’s old office before we met up. I think the person who was behind it knows what I’m doing and thought I found something.”

“That’s impossible, J.R. Simmons is dead,” my father said, his face pale.

“Well, someone is interested in this case, so if not him, then who?”

He pinched his lips together, remaining silent.

“Dad,” I said, leaning forward. “If you know more, like who might have broken into your house and my apartment last night, then you need to tell me.”

Fear filled his eyes. “Let this case go, Harper.” He swallowed. “But I see that filing isn’t enough for you, and you really like investigating, so how about I help you set up your P.I. practice?”

My heart leapt at the suggestion of him helping me, but I knew it wasn’t genuine. It was merely an attempt to get me to leave this alone.

He wasn’t going to tell me anything else, so I got up and started toward the door.

“Have you heard from your mother?” he called out behind me.

I stopped and turned to face him. “No.”

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