Page 55 of Long Gone

“Just…everything,” I said, surprised to discover tears were tracking down my cheeks. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have involved you in my existential crisis.”

“Why are you having an existential crisis?”

“My life has turned to shit, Nate,” I snapped. “Wouldn’t be weird if I wasn’t?”

Hurt and shock covered his face and guilt flooded me. At least I could feel guilt. That meant I wasn’t a true psychopath, right? I took comfort in that.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m having a shit day.” But I wasn’t. Not really. I’d reveled in the investigation. Right up until I’d dropped by Carter Hale’s office.

Why hadn’t I turned down his offer of help?

“I’m going home to do some meditation and self-reflection.”

“I don’t think you should be alone,” he said.

I’d lashed out and hurt him, yet he still wanted to help me. If anything told me he was too good for me, this was the proof. “I won’t be alone. I’m having dinner with my mother. I’m sorry I bothered you.” I reached for the doorknob, but it took three tries to grab hold of it.

“Harper, have you been drinking?”

Instead of answering, I opened the door and headed in the direction of my mother’s house. She lived about three quarters of a mile from downtown, and I needed the brisk air to clear my head. Only my head still wasn’t clear by the time I got home. It was only more muddled with guilt, rage, and the need for vengeance.

I expected my mother to greet me when I walked onto the property, but she left me alone as I climbed the staircase to my apartment and shut the door. I immediately pulled out my Jack Daniel’s and drank a couple of shots straight from the bottle.

So much for staying sober today.

I spent the night drinking and watching old episodes of Schitt’s Creek on my laptop to help drag me out of this rut of self-hatred, but before long I was too drunk to follow the storyline, and I was nodding off and then startling myself awake. I told myself I had to go to the house for dinner at seven, but I drank even more at the thought of spending the evening with my mother.

I woke with a massive pounding headache that made me consider going to the ER to see if I had an aneurysm. I blinked my eyes open, surprised to see daylight streaming through the window over the sink.

How could it be morning when I hadn’t gone over to have dinner with my mother yet?

I clenched my eyes shut.

Oh shit. I’d slept through dinner with my mother. She was going to kill me.

You didn’t sleep through dinner. You were blackout drunk.

My inner voice had a point, and I couldn’t ignore that I had a problem with alcohol, but I didn’t get blackout drunk very often. At least not lately.

I forced myself to sit up and look for my phone, which I found between the sofa cushions. I looked at the screen. It was 8:42 a.m. I had five missed calls from Nate and five from Louise, along with multiple texts from both of them. They were worried about my state of mind.

I ran a hand over my head. I didn’t have time to deal with them, not when I had to get ready and head over to the Sunny Point property. I sent them individual texts, saying the same thing.

Sorry I ignored your calls and texts. I’m fine. Really. I just had a moment. I spent the evening with my mother and left my phone at my apartment. I’ll catch up with you both later.

I made a cup of coffee and drank it black as I started the shower. I spent a long time under the water, trying to clear my head. I couldn’t remember much of last night, but when I got out, I saw that the whiskey bottle was nearly empty.

I was lucky I hadn’t died from alcohol poisoning.

It hit me that I hadn’t seen any missed calls or texts from my mother. She must be really pissed.

I made another cup of black coffee and added a bit of whiskey—hair of the dog—to help with my hangover. I still had some time before whatever vehicle Carter was sending to Sunny Point would be available, so I checked my email and saw that Detective Jones had followed through with the report on Hugo’s car.

I took a long sip of my coffee, then tried to focus on the report. The car had been clean, no trash inside, and the seat was pushed far back.

I grabbed my phone and called Clarice.

“Sorry to bother you so early,” I said when she answered, “but I have a couple of questions.”

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