Page 46 of Luck of the Devil
“But what if your mother was tied up in the Hugo Burton mess somehow? We have no guarantee your father told you everything. There’s no denying he was involved with Hugo Burton.”
I considered his suggestion. “Dad drew up Burton’s contracts off company time, and while it wasn’t technically illegal, it was unethical.”
“I’m not talking about Hugo Burton.”
“Simmons? He contacted my father to work on some contracts after Dad got mixed up with Burton.”
“Are you sure?”
I started to say yes, then stopped. I was repeating what my father had told me, but I’d be stupid to take his word for it.
I was letting my personal bias affect my instincts again. There was a reason cops weren’t involved in investigations dealing with themselves or family or close friends. They weren’t neutral. They came in with preconceived ideas and opinions. Good investigations didn’t start that way.
“I think I’m making a mistake,” I said, barely above a whisper.
He set down his toast and placed both hands on the table. “What are you talking about, Harper?”
“I shouldn’t be investigating this. I’m too close. I’m ignoring things I shouldn’t.” I reached for my coffee cup, then put my hand down, too anxious to take a sip.
He leaned closer, his face softening. “Do you or do you not want to be part of finding out who killed your mother?” When I hesitated, he said, “There’s no shame if you decide it’s too much. I had no right to back you into this.”
“You didn’t,” I countered, but he cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, you strongly coerced me, but I readily jumped on board.”
His question was fair. Did I want to find her murderer myself or would I be content letting someone else do it? The sheriff’s department clearly wasn’t interested in an investigation, but I suspected Malcolm would dig into it with or without me. The answer was easy. “I want to investigate. I needed you to push me. I was drowning.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up slightly. “Bad pun.”
I grimaced, then couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “True, but not intended.” I took a deep breath. “I want to investigate, but I’m gonna be brutally honest, Malcolm. I’m not sure I’m going to do this investigation justice. Hell, the things I’ve missed or overlooked within the last couple of hours are proof enough.” I glanced down at the table, ashamed to look him in the eye. I realized how close our hands were on the table, our fingertips separated by mere inches.
He shocked me when he lifted his hand and covered mine. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I jerked my gaze up at him in confusion and shock. His touch was comforting but also tugged at something deep inside of me. The part that was desperate to be touched. Not just by anyone—but by someone who understood me. And after a little over one month in Malcolm’s orbit, I realized no one had ever really seen me before. Not like he did.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I pulled my hand free and picked up my toast. “Does that mean you’re going to tell me whenever I fuck up?” I asked, my voice shaky.
A grin lit up his eyes. “How is that any different than our other two investigations?”
“Asshole.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his flask and handed it to me.
He’d mistaken my quiver for my detox tremors. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he knew he’d shaken me, and he was giving me an out to hide my embarrassment.
I took a longer swig than necessary and handed it back, waiting for my muscles to relax. But while I waited, I needed to get this back on track.
“So, we have two working theories,” I said, picking up my fork and scooping up some eggs. “The first is my mother found out something about my father, and whoever killed her did it to protect their secrets. The other is that my father had a mistress and either he or she or both of them killed her.”
Malcolm sat back in his chair. “If the woman was his mistress, she’d be stupid to show up at your mother’s house in broad daylight, let alone go off with her.” He cut off another piece of eggs and took a bite.
I snorted. “Trust me, most people who commit crimes aren’t all that bright.” I shoot him a pointed look. “Present company excluded.”
He choked on his egg and started coughing.
I laughed, surprised at how genuine it felt. “Just stating the facts.”
He picked up his coffee cup and took a big swig and grimaced, presumably from the temperature.
