Page 5 of Long Gone

“Then perhaps you should take your concerns to Mitch Morgan.” I walked past her, heading into the room, and snatched up my purse.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she snapped. “Your lunch break isn’t for another half hour.”

I walked to the doorway, but she blocked my path, her face screwed up with outrage. “I’m still talking to you.”

I gave her a look that had made criminals stop in their tracks, and it seemed to have the same effect on her. “You are not my boss, Becky. Debbie is the office manager, and then the partners are above her. I take my orders from them, which means I don’t have to explain a damn thing to you, so I suggest you move out of the way.”

She started to say something before cutting herself off and moving to the side. I walked past her and headed down the hall to the exit, but she collected herself enough to sneer, “It must be nice working for your daddy.”

I had half a dozen retorts on the tip of my tongue, but she’d already attracted the attention of several other office workers, who were standing in the hall gawking at us. I’d look like the bigger person if I walked away. Or I’d look guilty as charged. Lucky for Becky, I didn’t really care what anyone else thought of me right now.

But that was a lie I had gotten good at telling myself. So good I almost believed it. The thought made my fingers itch to slip the water bottle in my purse out and take a swig.

I told myself I could wait until I’d gotten into my car.

I walked past the employees who were staring with gaping mouths and headed outside to my car. I needed to call Clarice Burton, but I wasn’t going to do it with all those faces peering out at me. But I did take a big swig from my water bottle as I drove out of the parking lot.

A rush of heat filled my chest, and I basked in the comfort it gave me. I knew it would take a few minutes before I felt any real effects, and if I were honest with myself, it took a couple of gulps to get the same results a swig had given me months ago. But we all did things to get through the day, right?

In the beginning, I’d worried about drinking and driving, but I wasn’t drunk by any stretch of the imagination and a slight bit of alcohol took the edge off, making me calmer.

I headed to a gas station to fill up my Taurus. I suspected I’d be doing a lot of driving, so I might as well be prepared. While I filled up the tank, I called Clarice. She answered right away.

“Clarice Burton?” I asked. “I’m Harper Adams, a private investigator, calling on Mitch Morgan’s request.”

“Oh!” she gasped. “I hadn’t been prepared for you to call so soon.”

“Mr. Morgan wanted me to get started right away, so I’ve cleared my schedule to work on your case. I’d love to sit down and talk to you if you’re free. Would you be available this afternoon?”

“I’m available now,” she said breathlessly. “I really need to get this settled.”

I cringed, grateful she couldn’t see me. “I have lunch plans,” I said, wishing it weren’t true. My lunch plans were with my mother, and I already saw enough of her. At the same time, she’d be pissed as hell if I canceled. “Could we meet at, say, two?”

“That won’t work,” she said. “I have a prior commitment this afternoon and evening, and I’m volunteering at the food bank in Wolford all day tomorrow.”

Which meant I couldn’t talk to her until tomorrow night. If I accepted, I’d have to go back to the filing room for the next two days. I couldn’t imagine walking in after the way I’d walked out. I would just have to deal with my mother’s ire.

“That’s not a problem,” I said. “If you send me your address, I can head right over.”

After she gave me her address and hung up, I steeled my back for what was sure to be a difficult call.

“Harper,” my mother answered with a hint of irritation. “I hope you’re not calling to cancel on me.”

Was my mother a mind reader? Her guess was more likely based on the fact I’d canceled on her two weeks ago when she’d asked me to go to the same bi-weekly historical society luncheon.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Something came up at work and I need to get on it right away.”

“There can’t be a filing emergency,” she said in a snide tone.

“No,” I said hesitantly, figuring she wasn’t going to like where this was heading, but I wasn’t about to hide it either. Especially not since I was hoping my filing days would soon be in the past. “I’m looking into the disappearance of a businessman.”

She was silent for several long seconds. “I thought you put all that nonsense behind you.”

“Which nonsense are you referring too?” I asked sweetly as I got back into my car and started to pull out of the gas station. “You’ll have to be more specific since you find most of my life full of nonsense.”

“For heaven’s sake, Harper Leigh,” she groaned, “no need to be so dramatic.”

If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black…

---