Chapter Nine
Harper and Grey did not move straight into the next phase of their investigation. They were too shaken to face whomever it was that was distilling this incredible alcohol. Instead, they went back to Harper’s house and sat out on the porch, watching the sunset.
“Here,” Grey said, handing her a cup. “You should keep hydrated.”
“So should you,” she countered, sipping gratefully. She was thirsty. He joined her in a second round and the two stared at the pink and purple sky without speaking. As the sun began to sink, Harper reached across the space between their chairs and squeezed Grey’s hand. The sun went down, down, down until the space behind it was a deep purple that gradually faded into black. On any other day, the sunset would have calmed her, made her feel lucky to be in the forest. That day, she saw it as an omen; a sign that her beautiful days filled with light were coming to an end.
“Grey,” she said softly, not looking at him, “are you scared?”
“I am,” he said in his strong voice. “But I’m scared because I don’t know what’s happening. And I don’t like not knowing. I’ve always taken care of everyone, but I do that because it helps me control the world around me. I like to know that I know what’s what. When things are beyond me, I get paralyzed with fear.”
She nodded. She patted his hand and stood to go inside.
Grey didn’t follow her. Instead, he watched the stars appear here and there. They didn’t poke out until his eyes looked away. Then they would drift back to where they had been looking just a moment ago and there would be a new star. Then another and another. Unlike everything else, the stars had not changed. Their glow was no different than it had been when he was a small boy. It reassured him to see them, the unchanging stars. It told him that people through many ages had seen the same little points in the sky that he was seeing now. These things were eternal.
He finished his water and gathered up the cups. He went in and found Harper at the table, staring at the momentos Marcus had left behind. She had a hardened, determined stare on her face.
“We have to go and talk to his mom. She’ll be able to tell me if my theory holds any weight.”
“Okay.” Grey put a hand on Harper’s shoulder and leaned down to kiss her. The feel of his lips on her hair made her close her eyes a moment.
“Then,” she continued, “you need to help me find where that alcohol is being produced.”
He grimaced, realizing he had failed to tell her that part of the story. “I saw it. Today, when I was flying. I saw a still in the distance.”
She turned and stared at him. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Harper, I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
She nodded. “Yes, you absolutely should have. Why didn’t you?”
He gulped and tried to think of the best way to break the news to her. However, there was no alternative to the option he had - say it and let her hear it. The truth was unavoidable in this case, he couldn’t protect her from any of it.
“I didn’t tell you because…” He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his teeth together. She waited.
“Because the man I saw outside the still, he looked just like your dad.”
Silence. When Grey looked at Harper’s face, he saw the muscles behind her skin slowly lose their shape. Soon she had gone slack, her mouth open slightly, her neck bent forward. He reached out to touch her but her arm shot out to slap his hand away. It did so as if the movement were automatic, like Harper had no idea what her arm had done. She started to breathe faster and then to shake.
“Harper, breathe, honey. You have to stay calm.”
She looked him the eye and opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. He paused, wanting to give her a chance to speak, but all she could do was gasp for air. He tried to comfort her but she shoved him away, ran outside and puked off the side of her porch.
Grey stayed inside, wanting to give her a moment to collect herself. He heard her vomit again and flinched at pause between her release and the time it took for the acidic fluid to hit the ground. She hadn’t been too sick during the pregnancy, but with everything going on, it could easily start now. Stress and pregnancy really didn’t mix.
She came back, white with illness and exhaustion. He took her hand and led her to the side of the bed and encouraged her to sit. “Please, sweetheart, you’re going to faint.”
He sat her on the bed and got her some water as well as her toothbrush and a bowl of extra water to help her get ready for bed. As meek as a small child, she let him brush her teeth, undress her and help her lie down. He kneeled next to her and kissed her forehead. “It’s alright, darling. Just rest. All this strain isn’t good for our little bird. We have to keep her safe.”
In a small, almost young voice, Harper asked, “Her?”
Grey laughed at himself. “I don’t know why I said that. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl, do we? But,” he went on, smoothing her hair back from her brow, “I hope it’s a girl. Because I want a baby that’s just like you, Harper.”
She gave him a weak smile and he kissed her lightly on her dry, pale lips. “Get some sleep, hon. I’ll go to Marcus’ in the morning and then to the still. You just get better.”
She closed her eyes and took a breath. In a moment, a little snore was coming from deep within her chest. He let out the breath he had been inadvertently holding and collapsed onto the floor next to her. He felt his own exhaustion catch up with him and decided it was time he got some sleep as well.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth and slipped off his shirt so he could sleep. Just as his eyes were closing he felt Harper turn and face him. He reached out for her and felt her arm in the darkness.
“If you think you’re going without me, you don’t know me at all,” he heard her mumble in the darkness.
Too tired to argue, he just whispered back, “Yes, dear.”
When his eyes blinked open the next morning he was shocked to see an empty bed next to him. He sat up with a jolt to find Harper showered, dressed and eating breakfast at the table.
“Get up, lazy bones,” she teased. “We have a lot of work to do today.”
He quickly caught up to her, happy to find her fruit and vegetable salad on the table. She had captured a few juicy flies that were buzzing around a clean jar upside down on the table and he expertly let one escape and then bit it out of the air. She laughed at the sight of him chomping away at the space in front of him.
“You really are just a big kid.”
“That’s why I’ll be such a great father,” he countered, hand to his chest. “Think how much fun our little one will have with her goofy, immature father.” He grabbed two more bugs from the jar and popped them into his mouth then chowed down on his salad, offering Harper the final fly. “For you, my love.”
“Oh. So romantic.” She let the fly drift out of it’s glass prison and watched it go. Grey raised an eyebrow. What was this?
After waiting a long moment and letting it bumble around the table, her hand shot out to the side to grab it by the shiny wings. The bug danced around in her hand, unable to escape. She kept her eyes on Grey as she slowly brought her prey to her face, then dropped her head back and lowered it into her mouth.
When she came back up, he was applauding. “Very fancy! I like it. Where’d you learn how to do that?”
She shrugged. “I avoided eating bugs for a long time. It wasn’t until I saw people having fun with the catching part that I got on board. Once I tried teaching myself some little tricks with them, they stopped being so gross.”
The two ate and drank up their tea, then packed Marcus’ things and some extra fruit into a backpack. They walked out onto the porch to find the forest in full swing - kids playing, neighbors gossiping on porches and workers repairing this and that on different trees. They took the lift down, sad to leave such a pleasant scene but also incredibly excited. Today could be the day they found their murderer.
They walked to see Marcus’ mother Dahlia. Harper wasn’t sure exactly where she lived, but she felt certain that if they asked around they could narrow down their options at least. They headed towards Marcus’ burial site and then started asking anyone they passed as they neared the spot where his body was just starting the early stages of decay. A few people squinted up into the trees, uncertain which one contained the dead boy’s family, but others were sure.
“That big, old guy just there. They’ve got a bell on their lift. Just pull the red rope and they’ll pull you up.”
They thanked everyone and approached the tree together. Harper tugged the red chord and sure enough, a little bell tinkled in the tree. It’s soft sound was accompanied by loud, raucous yells.
“Ma! Someone’s on the lift! People, Ma! Ma, who is it? What do I do? Do I bring them up?” Little heads looked over side and even smaller hands waved down.
“Who is it? Who are you? Who’s here?”
Harper put a hand to her shade her eyes as she stared up into the sunlight. The four children staring down at her quickly made the same gesture and giggled.
“Tell your mother it’s her friend, Harper,” she yelled up.
“Ma! It’s a friend of yours! A lady named Harder!”
The mistake got a suppressed giggle out of Grey and Harper elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t you dare start calling me that.”
He pulled an innocent face. “Me? Never! You know I’m always very serious.”
The kids waved them onto the lift and they stood side by side so they could hold the safety bars on either side. They went up in hard, sudden lurches as the children fought and screamed for control of the pulley that brought them into the tree branches. Harper felt the vomit start to rise up again and mentally fought it down. Not now. Not now.
“You… Okay?” Grey asked between jolts. She nodded but had to cover her mouth almost immediately.
“It’s. Alright. If. You. Puke,” he assured her. “I might join you.”
At long last, they made it to the top. Dizzy from the journey and a bit startled to feel solid ground beneath them, the two took a moment on the porch to gather themselves. The children, so bold when they were mere dots on the ground, had become timid at the sight of their visitor up close. Small heads peeked around the door and hissed whispers reached Grey and Harper as they stood quietly.
“All of you,” Dahlia’s voice commanded, “get inside. That table is a mess and I need every child of mine cleaning it up right now.”
She moved to the door but found her young ones still very much distracted. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat. Time to get moving.
One by one, the four tiny ones looked up at their mother and then moved away from the show on the porch, sighing a little as they went. If only the table could clean itself. Once the tiny battalion was out of the way, Grey and Harper could move to the door. Dahlia greeted Harper with a big smile.
“My friend the detective! Oh, and a surprise.” She reached down to Harper’s stomach and touched it gently, then drew back in shock. “Oh! I felt it. Oh my goodness. You’ll have a pack of little ones soon.” She looked at Grey. “Hello. I’m Dahlia.”
“So nice to meet you. I’m Grey, Harper’s partner.”
They shook and chatted for a moment, getting all the pleasantries out of the way. Dahlia insisted they come in and she promptly sent all her children out to go and run around for a bit while the adults talked.
“Ma, we don’t wanna go!”
“I wanna talk to the pretty lady.”
“Please, Ma? Please? We’ll be good.”
Dahlia sighed and shook her head. “I know I’ll regret this, but come and sit on the floor. Let our guests have the chairs.” Four little pairs of feet scurried around to find a coveted spot at their mother’s feet and settled in. They grinned up at Grey and Harper, braver now that their parent was nearby.
“Okay, now,” she said down to them as she took a spot in a rocking chair, “everybody say hello and tell our friends Grey and Harper what your name is.”
Silence. They waited for one of them to be brave enough to go first. To everyone’s surprise, the smallest, a little girl with her black hair drawn up into a bun on top of her head, spoke up. “I’m Katy and I’m four.”
“Hi, Katy,” Harper beamed. “You’re so big!”
Katy put her finger in her mouth and nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’m Lance and I’m eight,” her brother announced, squaring his shoulders. He pointed at Grey. “I know who you are. You made the bridges.”
“I did help with the bridges. Maybe one day you’ll be a builder,” Grey told him. Lance shook his head.
“Nah. I’m going to be a scientist.”
That got Harper’s attention. “A scientist?”
Dahlia chuckled to herself. “All three of my sons have gone on and on about their future careers in science. I’ve never been able to convince them that being a teacher or a builder or even a writer is just as honorable a path. Even Marcus went on and on about chemistry after he dug up a few books on the subject.”
Harper’s pulse went extremely fast. She barely heard the next two introductions, Pat and Mary, as they told her their interests and future plans as well. She realized that Marcus’ brothers must have admired him very much. His presence was almost carved out in certain places in the house. She could easily imagine him just to the left of Mary on the unoccupied spot on the floor. One of the beds she could see beyond the dining room would have been his and that empty chair at the table would have been where he ate every day. She bit her lip as she felt Marcus walking around her, invisible and everywhere.
“So,” Dahlia asked, tilting her head at Harper, “what brings you two to our home? Do you have any news?”
“Actually,” Harper said, putting aside her observations of the ghost in the family, “I have some keepsakes for you.” She took off her backpack and unpacked the items she’d found in Marcus’ hiding spot. When she held the blanket out, Dahlia froze.
“Where did you find that?”
“In a hiding place he kept over near my part of the forest. Please, I’m sure he would want it to be here, in the house.”
Dahlia reached for the blanket and touched it as if it were a living thing. She pulled it into her chest and burst into tears. The children froze at the sight of their mother’s tears. Katy stood and patted her mother’s knee and Dahlia promptly pulled her onto her big, warm lap and held her close.
Lance stood and looked at the blanket in his mother’s hand. “This was Marcus’ baby blanket,” he said to the room. Harper nodded, not sure what to say. Pat approached her.
“Did you find anything else?”
“Yes. A tool and a book. There’s a drawing on the back,” she answered. Lance took the items from her and smirked when he saw the monster.
“Marcus never could draw.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Did he enjoy drawing?”
Lance shrugged. “Not really. He was more interested in finding out how things worked.”
Grey and Harper glanced at one another. Grey leaned in closer to Lance. “So, did he? I mean, was he good at figuring things out?”
A big grin spread from one of Lance’s ears to the other. “The best! He could pick apart any machine, explain any chemical reaction, you name it. He once explained the biology of the new trees to a teacher and why they don’t have rings anymore. He even broke down why the raindrops are so big now and how the earth is changing. He was a genius.”
Behind him, his mother took a big, shuddering breath. “Yes he was. Oh, my baby. Just too precious for this world.” Lance turned to his mother who asked him for something to wipe her face. He went off, leaving the items Harper had passed him onto the empty bed against the wall.
Dahlia sniffled and rocked back and forth, cuddling her little daughter. “Do you have any idea who did this? Anything at all?”
Harper nodded at Grey who turned to the grieving mother. “Yes. We know who killed Marcus. We just aren’t quite sure what to do next. This person is,” he paused, glancing at Harper who nodded encouragement, “very dangerous. Very power hungry and, I’m guessing, feels invincible right now.”
Dahlia’s face went pale with the description and her eyes flicked back and forth between her two visitors. “But, who could that be? And, power hungry for what? There’s nothing left!”
Harper sighed. “You’re right, it’s ridiculous. But this man doesn’t see it that way. He wants to create a population of addicts, drunks specifically, so he’s been manufacturing a special booze from the local fruit. It’s great - gives everyone a good time, no hangover, doesn’t have a flavor so you can drink it however you want.”
Dahlia crinkled her eyebrows. “So, how does that help him?”
“It’s only available to those with money. The recipe is a secret and only people who pay can have access to the stuff. But, once the money runs out…”
Understanding passed over Dahlia’s face and she nodded, understanding. Lance handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose. “So, how is Marcus involved in this?”
“Come on, Ma,” Lance interrupted, “they’re trying to tell you. Marcus figured out how to make the stuff. He was going to tell everyone so they could have it for free. The bad guys found out and they…” Lance’s voice left him at that moment and he walked away to his bed. He threw himself on the mattress and wept softly.
Dahlia looked at her visitors for confirmation. “Is that true?”
They nodded. “Yes,” Harper told her. “Your son, in all his genius, cracked the recipe and the means to make this stuff. And, if it’s public knowledge, there’s no power struggle. Everyone can just make it at home. So, they considered him a problem.”
She paused and looked them up and down. “You two know who killed my son, don’t you?”
They nodded again and she set down her little girl to cross over to them and grab Harper by the hands. “Who? Who is it, darling?”
Harper looked at her friend’s desperate, searching eyes and swallowed and pressed her lips together. She took a breath and told her, “We think it was my dad.”