Pretend You're Mine: A Small Town Love Story (44 page)

“Good thinking. See, running into old flames is what you do in Benevolence. I can’t stay here. Luke can’t even look at me without going all Hulk smash in front of Georgia Rae of all people. And I can’t look at him without wanting to kiss him and slap him until he realizes what an idiot he’s being.”

“Don’t let one bad trip to the grocery store scare you away from Benevolence, Harper.”

Harper picked up her glass of wine and sipped. “I keep thinking that if this is how he reacts when he sees me with another man, how am I going to feel when I see him with someone else? I don’t think I could take it. It’s for the best. Distance will heal us both.” She hoped.

“I wish you’d stay.”

“I wish I could, too. Do you think you’d be willing to come visit me when I’m settled?”

“I would love to. I promise I will. Especially if you move someplace warmer.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’m leaving Saturday.”

Joni sighed and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really going to miss you, Harper.”

“I’m going to miss you, too. And not just for your cooking and your wine. I think we should go sweater shopping for your date. Maybe something with a little scoop neck that you can cover with a scarf. Then if things are going well, you can take the scarf off.”

Joni laughed and poured them both more wine.

***

L
uke leaned against Ty’s cruiser. His anger and frustration at being kept out of the interview with Glenn kept him warm against the frosty morning air and the subzero look Detective Rameson had tossed his way.

He kicked at the cracked asphalt.

He should be in there. Not waiting in the fucking parking lot. He felt useless and that was new for him. It wasn’t easy to step back and let someone else take care of a situation. One that he wanted to handle himself, in his own way. Let that fucker take one step in Harper’s direction. That’s all it would take.

He was in charge, in control. At work, in the Guard. That’s how he liked it. The responsibility was heavy, but the alternative was this. Standing and waiting for someone else to get the job done.

He had tried calling Harper again after he left the police station last night. But all he got in return was a text thanking him for dropping off the groceries and coat. She didn’t respond to him after that and he had to talk himself out of driving over to Joni’s  house and dragging her out of there to talk to him. In the end, he decided it would be better to take care of the problem without her knowing.

He spotted Ty and Rameson as they exited the building and pushed away from the car.

“Well?”

“We got him,” Ty said, tapping the hood.

“What did he say? Did Perry send him?”

“You guys wanna grab some breakfast and talk strategy?” Rameson asked, zipping her coat.

Luke grilled Ty on the way to the restaurant.

“Don’t even think of making me wait until we get there.”

“Yeah, yeah. If it were Soph, I’d have my undies in a wad too,” Ty sighed. “Glenn sang like a damn soprano as soon as Rameson told him he’d die in prison like his pal Clive Perry.

“He told us he met Perry his first week in, and as soon as Perry found out that he knew Harper, well they got nice and chummy. Says Perry was the one who got his mom the cash for his bail and promised him more than that after the deed was done.

“All he had to do was slit Harper’s throat and whisper that fucker’s name in her ear as she died.”

The image flashed into Luke’s mind before he could guard against it. He took a second to push it back, catch his breath.

“Glenn swears he wasn’t actually gonna kill her, but he felt like he at least owed it to Perry to rough her up some.” Ty pulled into the parking lot of a long, squat building that promised “Homemade Everything.”

“You okay?”

Luke wanted to put his fist through the window of the cruiser and pretend it was Clive Perry’s face. He wanted to bolt out the door and run the twenty miles home to find Harper and wrap her in his arms and promise nothing bad would ever happen to her. She had come within inches of her life and he hadn’t been there to save her.

This time he would.

“I’m fine. Let’s go,” Luke said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

They got out of the car and met Rameson at the door. “Well I can see from your cheerful expression that Adler here told you what we got.”

“Perry doesn’t walk,” Luke snapped out.

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Get inside already. I’m hungry,” Rameson pushed past him and into the restaurant.

They ordered coffee and eggs from a waitress who looked like she was 12, and they talked strategy.

“We got a good start with Glenn rolling on him. He’ll testify to save his own ass.”

“Case would be airtight with a confession from Perry,” Rameson said, stirring an endless stream of sugar into her coffee.

“He’s not going to talk to you,” Luke said.

“No shit, he’s not,” she said, eyeing him. “However, a pissed off boyfriend who tries to tell him that he’s never gonna get near her?”

Luke smiled grimly. “Because he’s a weak, pathetic old man.”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “Maybe you’ll be useful after all, dumbass.”

L
uke pulled open the heavy metal door of the prison’s visitor entrance and stepped into the cramped vestibule. A guard behind glass pointed to the speaker on Luke's side.

He leaned forward. “Here to see Clive Perry.” He felt like he was ordering movie tickets.

“Any weapons or other contraband?” The guard pointed at a poster listing, among other things, cellphones and drugs and slid a clipboard through the opening above the skinny counter.

“No.”

“Sign in.” The guard’s tone was as bored as a seventh grader conjugating verbs.

Luke scrawled his signature on a blank line and wrote Perry’s name next to it. He was surprised the pen didn’t snap in his grip.

“Go on through that door, through the metal detector. Visitors’ desk is on the right,” the guard said, buzzing him through.

The next door opened, and Luke walked into a large waiting room. The block walls were painted a pale, industrial gray. A handful of people waited in plastic chairs facing the desk.

After answering the contraband question again, Luke tossed his sunglasses, keys, and wallet in the tray and passed through the metal detector.

The woman behind the visitors’ desk looked more like a cheerful grandmother than a prison guard.

Her graying strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a bun that tight, frizzy curls were exploding out of. Her round face had a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

“What can I do for you, sugar?” Her drawl echoed West Virginia mountains.

“I’m here to see Clive Perry.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need your driver’s license, please.”

He handed it over and she copied it before returning it to him.

“All right, sugar, you go ahead and have a seat and I’ll send someone to find Mr. Perry. We’ll set you up in an empty room.”

Luke thanked her and took a seat facing the desk. His fingers drummed a silent beat on his jeans.

No matter what, it ended today. Perry’s stalking and manipulations, any threat he posed to Harper, ended today. No matter what.

“Mr. Garrison?”

Luke approached the desk.

“We’ve got you in room B. Just follow Bill here, and Mr. Perry will be in shortly.

“Thanks.” He followed Bill, a guard with a shock of white hair, who topped the scales at maybe 100 pounds.

The room was a dingy ten-foot-by-ten-foot space with a scarred table, an ashtray that hadn’t been emptied for at least a week, and two plastic chairs. The walls were covered with wood paneling from the seventies.

Luke ignored the chairs and stood in the corner, facing the door, to wait.

A few minutes passed before the door opened again. It was Bill again and behind him was Perry.

Clive Perry might once have been intimidating. But a lifetime of poor choices left him stooped and hollow. He was five-foot-eleven, but his stooped shoulders made him look shorter. His gray hair was combed and neatly trimmed.

The lines on his face were deep, making him look older than his 62 years.

There was nothing remarkable about the man. Nothing that screamed “unstable psychopath.” Except maybe the eyes. A pale, watery blue. There was an emptiness in his gaze. Luke had seen it before. In the enemy’s eyes. And once in his own reflection.

Perry thanked Bill and took a seat at the table. Long gnarled fingers, stained yellow, reached for a cigarette.

He lit it and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Garrison?”

Play it cocky, Luke reminded himself. The cocky, overprotective boyfriend.

He took the chair opposite Perry and tucked his sunglasses into the open collar of his button down.

“Do you know who I am?” Luke asked.

“I haven’t the faintest.” Perry’s small, mean smile showed teeth stained with age.

“Let’s cut the bullshit. You are done harassing Harper.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luke pulled the letter out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “I think you do.”

The smile broadened. “Ah, my letter.”

“Letters,” Luke corrected him.

“So she’s read them. I wasn’t sure. We’re something like pen pals,” Perry said.

“No. You’re something like a stalker.”

“I pose no threat to her.”

Luke smirked. “I can see that.” He kicked back in the chair.

“I’ve served my time, Mr. Garrison. I’ve been a model prisoner,” he said, steepling his fingers. “And I’ve made no specific threats to your girlfriend.”

“You don’t have the balls to make a direct threat, much less carry it out.”

“There, you see? Nothing to concern yourself with. My history with Harper is just that, history.”

“Then why do you still write?”

Perry opened his hands and shrugged. “Maybe it’s as simple as I don’t want to be forgotten. We played important roles in each other’s lives. It would be a shame to forget that.”

“You abused children under your care.” Luke didn’t have to add the revulsion to his tone. It was already there.

“Like I said. I’ve served my time. In the eyes of the law I’m rehabilitated.” Perry fingered the edges of the envelope. “Tell me, what did she say when she opened my letter? How did she take my news?”

And there it was. The hunger. Feed him just enough.

“She assures me that you’re no threat. You’re just a crazy, frail old man who blames her for your own crimes.”

“She took twelve years from me,” Perry said, slamming his palm down.

Luke gripped the table. “You raised your hands to those kids. You beat them, neglected them. No one made you abuse them. You deserve to be in jail for the rest of your life, and if you even think for one second that I’ll let you near Harper when you’re released, you’re even more senile than she thinks.

“You’re confident you can protect her.”

“Just try and get through me. You’ll learn what fear feels like,” Luke said quietly. “I won’t rest until you’re dead or behind bars for life.”

“You’re awfully cocky in your ability to protect. Tell me, where were you when that man broke into your home? Where were you when he held that blade to her throat? Were you there to protect her then?” He licked his thin lips.

“How did you know about that?”

“I could have read about it in the paper,” Perry said, stubbing out his cigarette. He raised his gaze to Luke’s. “Or I could have sent him.”

Luke stood so quickly his chair flipped over. He put his hands on the table. “You’re fucking lying.”

“Oh. You didn’t know that Glenn and I are old friends? That I was able to get him released in exchange for a small favor? It’s dangerous to underestimate your enemies, Captain.”

“That’s not true.”

“All he needed was the motivation of freedom. I secured the money for his bail and had it delivered to his mother.”

“You have nothing. You made jack shit before prison. Where did you come up with the money for Glenn’s bail?”

“Prison is an excellent marketplace for entrepreneur. I merely find a need a fill it. Some want drugs. Others need higher priced items that feed their, shall we say, singular interests.”

“Kiddie porn?” Luke’s gut churned.

Perry shrugged. “Whatever the customer requires. I can get it and distribute it. For a fee.”

“You expect me to believe that you spent twenty grand to send someone into my home to scare my girlfriend?”

“Of course not. I sent someone into your home to kill her.”

Luke lunged across the table and grabbed Clive by the jumpsuit, yanking him out of his chair. “You failed, asshole. Talk about the dangers of underestimating someone. You or your lackeys will never lay a finger on Harper again. Because if you get lucky enough to get through me, she will take you down just like she did when she was twelve.”

He released Perry and straightened.

“You have no control. No patience,” Perry sighed with disdain. “No finesse. Just brute force.”

“Oh is finesse what you call burning a twelve-year-old with a cigarette? Or is it hiring a fucking drunk to do a job that you’re too week to perform?

“Hiring Glenn was a mistake. But at least I got the pleasure of imagining him holding the blade to her throat.”

Luke slammed his fist on the table.

“Patience is what I call biding my time until she feels safe. Finesse will be me taking away everything she values, one by one. I’ll start with the dogs. And then when she’s all alone, when she has nothing left, then I’ll take her life.”

Luke growled and fought for control. The manic light in those sick blue eyes made him want to snap. To crush the man’s face.

“You’ll never get through me, asshole. You’ll never get out of here alive.” Luke kept his voice low.

“You have no say in that. I’m being released.” He smiled through thin lips. “And when I am, I will end her life. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Luke’s fist plowed into Perry’s face. Cartilage crunched, and the man crumpled to his knees.

The door flew open and Detective Rameson strolled in. “Christ, Garrison, I thought you’d never get around to doing that.” She nodded to the man in a suit on her right. “We got enough, D.A. Willis?”