Page 27 of Long Gone

“Absolutely not. How many meals did you buy me when I got back to town? I want to do this, so don’t fight me on it.”

“Okay,” she said, then gave me a hug. “Love you, girl. Be careful.”

“You too. We’ll talk later in the week about Saturday.” I watched her go and realized that Nate was in no hurry to follow her out. He was shifting his feet, looking nervous.

“What’s up?” I asked, deciding to take the direct approach.

He sat down in our booth, and I reluctantly sat across from him. I had a feeling I knew what this was about.

“I know you said you needed more time because of your job and your father divorcing your mother…”

My stomach sank. So, this was it—the place where all my avoidance had led.

“I know,” I said, still unsure whether to be brutally honest or gentle. I went with the latter. If I told him a flat-out no, he might avoid me for a while. Or possibly permanently, and I really didn’t want to lose him as a friend. “I’m just not ready to open myself up to someone right now. You’re a great guy?—”

He leaned his head back and groaned. “Here we go with the great guy speech…”

“Look, Nate,” I said, feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t want to date anyone. At. All. So don’t take it personally. I’ve been to hell and back. I feel like I can barely keep myself together right now, let alone manage a relationship.” I gave him a warm smile. “You deserve better than that.”

“As long as you’re not just blowing me off,” he conceded. “If you’re not interested in me, then I want you to tell me.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I want, but I’m flattered that you want to go out with me, despite all my issues. But,” I added, “I have no idea how long I’ll be messed up, so if one of those hot toddler mothers turns out to be single and makes a move, feel free to go for it. You deserve to be happy.”

Thankfully, he didn’t look upset. “You deserve to be happy too, Harper.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed with that assessment, but I knew better than to tell him so. Better to go home, make myself a Jack and Coke, and drown my feelings in my work. It had worked for years until last fall—the losing myself in my work part, not the drinking. But I was also self-aware enough to know it hadn’t ever really worked before, even without the drinking. I’d just kept all the trauma of my sister’s kidnapping and murder buried. The shooting of that teenager last fall had dragged it all to the surface.

“Thanks, Nate. And thanks for understanding.”

Angie walked over and placed the bill on the table in front of me. “I heard you were covering the bill tonight.”

“Word gets around,” I said with a chuckle, then reached for my wallet and pulled out my debit card. I took a look at the bill and saw a note on top.

If you want to hear what I know about Colter and Burton, meet me at the back door in ten minutes.

I glanced at Angie, who didn’t seem interested in my response, and handed her my debit card and the bill.

“You can head out, Nate,” I said. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking uncomfortable. “It doesn’t feel right leaving you here to walk out into the parking lot alone.”

“I have to go to the restroom before I leave, and also, I was a police detective,” I said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I’m qualified to take care of myself.”

He made a face. “Yeah. I guess so.” He grabbed his jacket and gave me another look. “I’m glad things seem to be working out for you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot.”

He headed toward the door as Angie returned with my card and the receipt. I gave her a twenty-five percent tip, then went to the restroom before walking out the door into the parking lot.

I made sure no one was watching, then headed around the back of the building, stopping outside a solid metal door. I only had to wait about twenty seconds before the back door opened and Malcolm’s face appeared. He didn’t say a word as he pushed the door open wide enough for me to enter. I followed him, letting the door shut behind me as we moved down the hall and to the left. He guided me to a partially open door, and before we entered it, I could see it led into an office, only it was nicer than it should be. I’d worked a few restaurant jobs in college, and those offices had dirty white walls, ugly metal desks, and fluorescent lights. This room had wood paneling, a leather sofa and chairs, and a wooden desk.

“Looks like you’re trying to compete with your attorney for the nicest office,” I said as he shut the door behind us.

I’d visited his attorney’s office after the Jackson Creek police chief had suggested I’d kidnapped Ava for attention. Malcolm had insisted I use his attorney during my questioning with the chief. Of course, it hadn’t been a favor. He’d loaned me Carter Hale to make sure I didn’t spill any of his secrets.

“Hardly,” Malcolm said, walking over to a dry bar and pouring two glasses of whiskey. “His office is pretentious.” He handed me a glass, then motioned to the sofa as he made his way to a chair. “I often spend eighteen hours or more a day here, and I’m not living in some cheap-ass room. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Fair enough.” I looked down at the drink in my hand, wondering if this was a test. I sat down on the sofa, intending to set the glass on the coffee table, but I couldn’t seem to make myself put it down. “I take it you have information about Hugo Burton or Brett Colter that you don’t want people to know about.”

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