Chapter 37

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SEVEN

DETECTIVE MICHALES

Pacing along the back wall of my home office, my gaze wanders over the photos pinned to the wall.

Grant Geyer, Edmund Parker, Samuel Millington, William Cattaneo, Elizabeth Beaufort.

The new women with three of them—supposedly willingly—Abigail, Cora, and fucking Harper.

She hasn’t spoken to me in several weeks. My number is either blocked in her phone or she is outright ignoring every message that I’ve sent her. Every last fucking one of them.

Her little whore of a roommate hasn’t yet had quite the same balls, and for fear of being exposed, she’s picked up Harper’s slack. While I’m still thoroughly enjoying using all of her holes a few times a week, she is deeming herself to be utterly useless in comparison to Harper.

Tearing her photo from the wall, I hold it in my hands and stare at it. Heat rushes up my neck and over my face as I continue to try to find anything to catapult my case forward.

But there’s nothing.

Harper provided me with weeks’ worth of useless fucking information. Shit she isn’t fucking smart enough to figure out on her own. Things he had to have been feeding her. Bullshit lies he knew I would be happy to receive and subsequently waste my fucking time chasing after leads that weren’t there.

The behavior of a guilty fucking man.

She’s been playing me.

This whole fucking time. I pushed her toward him, needing her to get me information from the inside that I could never obtain otherwise, but she fucking willing ran into his arms. And together, the two of them have been playing me.

Laughing at me.

Fucking mocking me.

“You fucked me, Harper,” I spit at the photo in my hand. My jaw is clenched painfully tight as I crumple the photo in my fist. Tossing it to the ground, I grit through my teeth, “You’ll fucking pay for trying to deceive me.”

Grabbing my keys from the table, I storm out the door to my pickup truck. Slamming the door shut as I climb in, I grumble to myself, “You’ll pay. And when you do, Edmund Parker will show his fucking hand.”

Slipping the truck into gear, I speed across town toward Edmund Parker’s home. She’ll have to leave eventually.

And I can be a patient man.

Hiding in plain sight for two days, my attention perks up when the gates open, and Edmund pulls through in his Bentley. It’s the brand new, white Maserati following behind him that really piques my interest.

Did he buy her a fucking car?

Pulling from the shoulder and onto the road, I follow a few car lengths behind Harper. Through town and onto the interstate. Quite certain I know where we’re heading, I’m not surprised to find us pulling into the parking garage around the corner from her apartment.

Following the Maserati up the levels, I continue past her when she pulls into a spot. I round the corner and quickly park.

I could take her right now.

The garage is devoid of people, and the security is shit. I could do what I need to do and be done with it. Ensuring to stay light on my feet so she doesn’t hear me coming, I begin to close the distance between us. A few feet from the exit, I reach out to her. My hand lingers a hair from her shoulder, and a boisterous couple pushes through the door. She stops to talk to them, and I obscure my face as I briskly walk around her.

Your apartment it is.

Tucking myself into the alleyway between the garage and her apartment, I continue to wait. She walks past moments later. I almost follow straight behind her, but I opt to wait a few minutes.

Staring at my watch, I count the seconds until ten minutes have passed before stepping from the alley. I quickly walk into her building and disregard the requirement to stop at the security desk.

“Sir,” the man behind the desk calls after me. “I can’t let you up without signing in and verifying the residents are?—”

“This is a police matter.” I flash my badge at him. “Do you really want to impede a police investigation?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” He quickly recoils and takes his seat as I step onto the elevator.

As I push the button for her floor, my heart begins to race as the doors close. Unable to stop myself, I send her a text.

Time’s up, Harper.

I know you’ve been fucking lying to me this whole time.

We’re going to fucking talk.

NOW.