Chapter 42
Excitement took the sound level up to ear-aching level as kids and parents wandered the field looking for autographs from their favorite players.
Deke had a line, dozens of fans deep, as he smiled and signed footballs and shirts, and even an occasional patch of bare cleavage. For those ladies, he offered up his high wattage grin that made the female fans swoon.
The trio had taken the stairs up so that they could look down on the field without being observed.
“How do we do this?” Betty Anne asked with her hungry eyes locked on the quarterback.
Again, weird, Noah thought. With half the women in the universe slobbering over Trotter, he’d chosen the nearly invisible wife of his boss to sleep with. There was something off its axis about the whole situation.
Following a discussion on the way into the stadium, Noah, with his FBI experience, had been designated to take the lead.
He looked around the enormous space. “First, we need to remember that he’s only a suspect and we have no authority to arrest him. We’re here to talk.”
“Got it,” Harper said and nudged Betty Anne. The widow nodded absently.
“We don’t want to spook him either,” he added. “If we go in throwing accusations around, he might bolt. With his money, he could go anywhere in the world.”
“Yes, but his face is harder to hide,” Harper said. “He has fans worldwide.”
The curse of fame.
“Then let’s attempt to get close before he sees us. We’ll have Betty Anne hold back. He’ll get suspicious if she’s with us. I’m sure he knows the widow is no fan of yours, HJ.”
“I hold back,” Betty Anne repeated, as if in a trance. She was back to staring at Trotter.
Harper stared at the widow. “This is going to be fun.”
“Come on.” Noah led the way down the cement steps with Harper behind him and Betty Anne a couple of yards back. They got to the bottom level just above the field when Trotter looked up and spotted them. He appeared curious but not alarmed. Until he moved his gaze up and saw Betty Anne.
She lifted a one-finger wave.
Almost simultaneously, a murmur arose in the crowd and brought Noah’s attention to the far side of the field. A dozen police officers from the Lansing PD were coming down the ramp and into the end zone.
“Shit.” Mignon had called the local cops to send in the troops. So much for a surprise confrontation.
“What can we do?” Harper asked.
Noah formed a quick plan. “We have to get to him before he realizes the police are here for him.”
Too late.
Trotter followed Noah’s gaze and tensed. Then he looked up at Betty Anne with an expression that showed that he knew she’d betrayed him. He shoved his magic marker into the hands of his agent, and took off, knocking over the Muskrat mascot.
“Oh, hell.” Noah jumped the waist-high locked gate and took the stairs down to the field. Harper kept right behind him. They ran across the field, dodging fans, while keeping his eyes on the fleeing quarterback.
Instead of heading out of the building, Trotter went up the stairway opposite the one they just took down. He leaped over the gate and was gone.
“Where is he going?” Harper said, her breathing labored as they followed his trail to the upper floor. Dressed in jeans and boots, they weren’t dressed for a foot chase.
Noah stopped at the top of the stairs, trying to gauge where Trotter went. That stop allowed the police to catch up. He and Harper were jostled aside as the officer at the front pointed and called out. “There!”
Trotter was running up another floor, taking the cement steps two at a time. The police ran after him.
“The only things up there are the nose bleed seats, the VIP boxes, and Willard’s box,” Harper said, distracted. “He likes to sit up there sometimes and think of himself as the Muskrat King.”
A short pause, then, “Shoot, he’s going after Willard!” Her gaze darted around. “Follow me. Hurry!”
Harper took off. Noah ran after her. They’d lost Betty Anne somewhere in the fan crush. Finally, Harper pushed through a door marked “janitor.” The door led to a hallway that led to an elevator. “As the most hated man in the city, Willard is rightfully paranoid about security. This elevator is hidden in case he needs to make an escape. Or he wants to sneak up hookers for his friends.”
She went in and punched a code. As his brows lifted, she said, “Kimmie gave me the code. We snuck up there once and drank his precious cognac. The stuff costs a fortune.”
“Who knew you were a bad girl, HJ?” Noah said with admiration. He liked that she had a “bad” side. “It’s hot.”
“Down boy,” she said without bite. “Deke first. Then we’ll go home and celebrate my freedom.”
The opening doors stopped the conversation. Cautiously, Harper stepped out. The second narrow hallway had no warmth. No signage, nothing to distinguish where they were. The floor was concrete and the walls, gray.
“Where are we?” he whispered.
“Behind the boxes. Another hallway parallels this one for guests. I told you Willard was paranoid.”
She continued to an unmarked door. She put a finger to her lips and opened the panel. Inside was what looked like a waiting room with a cut-glass wall overlooking a second room. Noah saw movement on the other side.
“No one can see us unless they’re right up next to the glass,” Harper whispered as she walked to the wall. “Willard likes to spy on his guests to hear what they say about him. He’s a psycho.”
They looked through clear places in the glass. Willard sat on a leather couch in front of a large screen TV, sucking on a cigar through pursed lips. Gross.
There was no sign of the quarterback.
“Huh,” Harper said. “I was sure Deke was coming here.” She held her hands to the side of her head. “Think. Think. Damn, I forgot about the freight elevator. He’d have had to go up to go down to the ground floor.”
She took off again and darted into the still open elevator. She jabbed the G and they were on the move.
“We’ll never catch him,” Noah said as they shot down to the ground level. The elevator pinged.
“The freight elevator is notoriously slow.” She dashed out the door. “Since Willard doesn’t use it, he doesn’t care if it gets stuck between floors or falls to the bottom in an explosion of metal and glass. He knows he won’t be inside when it does.”
They ran out into the covered VIP lot. No Deke. They headed up the ramp and into the sunshine. The sound of an engine bore down on them. Noah jerked Harper back as Deke, sans helmet, buzzed past them on a motorcycle. The quarterback didn’t appear to notice them. He was making a getaway.
“Get the car!” Noah yelled.
He took off on foot after Deke, trying to see which way he turned out of the parking lot.
Right.
Harper sped up behind and almost hit him as he jumped out of the way. “Sorry,” she said as he dove inside.
“Go right!”
Harvey shrieked like a college girl in a horror flick and bottomed out as Harper hit the exit driveway of the lot at a high rate. The side road behind the stadium appeared almost empty as they weaved around the one car in their lane.
“That way!” Noah pointed left.
They caught up with Deke easily as he tried to lose them in a quiet neighborhood, a quarter mile from the stadium.
“That’s the slowest motorcycle I’ve ever seen,” Harper said with distaste. “Even Harvey is faster.”
“It’s electric, and probably goes about twenty mph.” Noah was happy Deke wasn’t driving the hot rod he was often photographed with. He would’ve lost them without trying. “Can you get closer?”
The car protested the attempt to pick up speed but eventually kicked into a higher gear and closed the gap.
“What should I do?” she said. “Are you going to jump out the window and knock him over like they do in the movies?”
It took a second to realize she was kidding. Sort of.
“Not today. This is a new shirt.” He ran through his options. Trotter might know he was followed, and if he did, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The electric charge would only last so long and he couldn’t outrun them.
“I have an idea,” Harper said. Before he could ask, she punched the gas and got the front of the car beside Deke. She jerked the wheel left and hit the back of the bike.
Trotter lost control and bounced against the curb. The bike pitched sideways and he flew ass over end and landed in a wildflower garden disguised as a weed patch.
Harper slammed on the brakes and Noah was out before the car stopped rolling. Deke pushed to his feet and Noah caught him around the waist at a run. They hobbled together but Deke stayed upright. Noah was about 100 pounds lighter than the guys who normally took him down on the field.
The fight was on.
Harper tried to get into the melee of flying fists and shots to the face and chest. Noah yelled at her twice to stay back. Deke was all muscle, but he himself was no lightweight. Between the two of them, Noah worried that she would get hurt.
Somehow during the fight, Deke’s shirt came off, causing a fender bender in the street when two women temporarily forgot how to drive. They leaped from their vehicles and raced over with their cell phones. One almost got taken out by a mail truck.
“Is that Deke Trotter?” A woman cried out in wonderment and somehow managed to click off a selfie near the quarterback.
“Stop hitting him, you big meanie,” yelled the other and tried to hit Noah with her purse. “Hey, Dekeie!”
Unable to help himself, Deke turned to the women and flexed a bicep. Noah hit him in the gut. The fight was back on.
Harper refused to stay out of it. Yelling encouragement to Noah, she danced around the perimeter waving something that looked like a stick in her hand. When Deke punched him in the eye and Noah cuffed him in the jaw, the quarterback stumbled backward against a fire hydrant.
Taking the opportunity to get in a lick, Harper swung her arm wide and hit Deke in the side of his thigh with her weapon.
He howled like a wounded coyote in a steel leg trap and went down hard. Clutching his leg, he swore and writhed amongst a bed of poppies.
“What in the hell did you hit him with?” Noah asked while trying to get sight back in his injured eye.
“It’s a police baton. Some call it an asp.” She held it up in front of his good eye. She smiled with pride. “It works pretty good, huh?”
What? “Where’d you get it?”
“On eBay.” She closed it down to hand size. “I had it tucked in my waistband in case Deke got cranky.”
Noah shook his head. HJ was something else; a constant surprise.
He just might have to marry her.
Deke’s whimpering changed to groaning. Noah had to work fast so he wouldn’t get up again. “Please tell me that baton came with handcuffs?”
“Nope. But I think I still have the duct tape in the car.” She collected the rolls and Noah got Deke on his stomach. The quarterback didn’t give much of a fight once Harper pulled her baton back out. Instead, he waited until Noah got him seated on the curb before addressing her.
“Hey, Harp.” Deke grinned through a bloody lip as cell phone clicks sounded in the background. “How’s it going?”
Smack. She hit him across the face, at full force, with an open hand. His head jerked sideways.
The famous Deke grin barely wavered. “I guess I deserved that.” He licked his lip. A woman fainted on the sidewalk. She had nothing on Harriet.
“I’m sorry I set you up,” he added. “But it was so damn easy.”
She glared and flexed her hand. “I have two questions. How did you get into my motel room and apartment to gaslight me?”
“My uncle was a locksmith,” he said with a shrug. “I worked with him for two summers in high school.”
Harper puffed a breath. “Second. Was it you that called 911 when I was in the hotel room with Gerald?”
“I did. On a burner phone.”
“Bastard.”
Noah stepped in before she could clock Deke again. “Lansing is a long way to drive to gaslight Harper.”
“Two of my girlfriends live in the area,” the quarterback explained with a smug expression. “I didn’t have to go far.”
What would the Merry Widow think about that?
“Does Betty Anne know about these other woman?” Noah asked. The quarterback was a jerk.
Deke smirked. “Not unless you tell her.”
* * * *
By the time the police—and Betty Anne arrived—Deke was trussed up like a Christmas goose and a sizable crowd had gathered to gawk. There would be viral videos all over the internet by sundown.
Betty Anne ran over and dropped down in front of Deke’s face and the two of them cooed at each other while Harper tamped down her gag reflex. How had she ever respected that ass?
Four officers took him by the arms and legs and carried him to a nearby patrol car. “I looooove you, Lambkins!” Deke called out as they shoved him head first into the back seat.
“I’ll wait for you!” Betty Anne called back.
An officer walked over to take Harper and Noah’s statements while the widow waved enthusiastically at the car as it pulled away. She sobbed when they vanished from sight.
The entirety of the chase, arrest, and aftermath took almost two hours, allowing Detective Mignon time to arrive on the scene. He grumbled and groused at the pair, then had them go over the basics of the takedown. When they finished the short version, he nodded.
“You’re lucky he wasn’t armed.”
Harper smiled. “A thank-you would be in order, don’t you think? I also assume I’m no longer a suspect?”
“You will not get a thank-you for putting a stadium full of people at risk.” He looked over where one tire of the rental wreck was up on the curb and the motorcycle was lying in the weeds. “How about I don’t have you arrested for reckless driving and we call us even?”
She stuck out her hand. He slowly took it. “Deal.”
As he walked away, she was sure he was smiling. The gruff detective wasn’t so bad after all.
“Let’s get out of here,” Noah said. They left Betty Anne to be taken home by one of the officers. Harper couldn’t stomach another minute with her.
Once on the expressway, they got up to a cruising speed of fifty-six mph. “See. All your worries didn’t come about. Harvey helped us close the case without one breakdown.”
Noah stared at her. “I don’t want to discuss the car ever again. You’re free now and our professional partnership is over. What’s next for us, Harper?”
Talk about a surprise attack. The man was to the point and his expression serious. She was sure that he wasn’t talking about dinner, or sex, when they got home.
She wasn’t ready for the “what about our future” talk. Her mind was still processing the day.
“We just caught Deke, Noah. Can we just enjoy the moment?”
“Fine.” He rubbed a hand over his head. He had great hands. “Then what about tomorrow?”
“I haven’t made any plans,” she responded lightly. “I was thinking about asking Irving to give me a job.”
His jaw pulsed. “You know I still love you.”
Oh, no. “Do we have to do this now?”
“Yes, now.” He rubbed his chin. “I know that you’ll avoid me otherwise and probably take off in the middle of the night tonight without a good-bye. I can’t lose you again.”
“Noah.” What do you say to a man who tells you he loves you and you can’t say it back? “This isn’t about you.”
“Which means it’s all me.” He leaned back with a harsh sigh. “You still don’t trust me.”
This one she could answer. “I trust you with my life.”
“But not with your heart.” He was angry. “I was eighteen and buried in shit and I made a mistake. I’ve regretted it every day since. How long will you hold this against me? Forever?”
She had no answer. The rest of the ride home fell into painful silence. And that was all her. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, too. Yet, she had to be sure of what she wanted. Emotion had no place in deciding her future.
When she pulled into the driveway, Angel the stripper was seated on her porch. Harriet lay next to her getting a belly scratch.
A sigh escaped. “I’ll never get rid of that goat.”
Noah pushed from the car. “I have something for you.”
Please don’t let it be an engagement ring!
He walked to a tree in the yard. Hanging from the trunk was something like a deer trail camera that she hadn’t seen before. He fiddled with it, then came back and handed her a jump drive. “This should solve your goat issue.” He looked at Harriet. “I’ll take her back.”
Resigned, Noah wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wanted to kiss him and tell him how she felt. Instead, she shook her head. “No. I’ll do it.”
Nodding, Noah turned. “See ya, HJ.” He walked away.
Her heart ached. Why couldn’t loving him be easy? She did love him. She just couldn’t say the words.
Angel got to her feet when Harper walked over. “I hope you don’t mind that I tracked you down,” she said. “My lawyer knows Noah.” She smiled and cupped her belly. “I decided to fight for my baby’s inheritance.”
Harper took the pink leash from her. “That’s great.”
Angel looked down at Harriet. “I didn’t know you had a goat.”
“I don’t. Long story.”
She pulled Harriet to her feet and unlocked the door. “Come on in and tell me everything.”
Fatigued and emotionally wrung out, she collected her laptop while Angel told her story. It sounded like the lawyer was just who she needed to beat the Covingtons. “My lawyer won’t let them take my baby from me.”
“That’s excellent.” Harper booted up and inserted the jump drive. Angel came around behind her. The pictures downloading were in black and white, though clear. As suspected, the culprit had a familiar face.
“What are we looking at,” Angel asked.
“The mystery of the goat caper has been solved.” Thank you, Noah. She frowned as Estelle and Harriet climbed from her truck and she deposited the goat on Harper’s porch. “I knew that old woman was up to something.”
“Hey, stop that!” Angel said as Harriet chewed the pocket of her blue skirt.
“Don’t yell at her,” Harper said quickly, but it was too late. Harriet bobbled and went down, rolled, and her skinny goat legs jerked a couple of times and went still.
“Oh my goodness,” Angel exclaimed. “Did I hurt her?”
“No, but I will if she doesn’t get up.”
Harriet jumped to her feet and took off for the bedroom. Harper ran after her. “You’d better stay off my bed, goat chops!”
* * * *
An hour later, Harper, Harriet, and Angel were loaded up in Harvey and heading to the farm. When she’d found out the stipulations the lawyer had laid out to help her case, Harper encouraged Angel to ride along.
Angel had to get a job, a safe place to live, and she needed family or friends’ support for her and the baby. Harper had an idea to cover two of those.
“What do you think of old people?” Harper had asked when she’d closed the computer and reached for her keys.
“I love old people,” Angel replied.
Excellent. “What about cranky old people?”
The former stripper smiled, puzzled by the question. “Cranky old people are my favorite.”
“Then I have someone you’ll want to meet.” Harper filled her in on her idea. Angel initially dragged her feet. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”
As the car chugged along ten minutes later, and wanting to fill the silence and keep her mind off Noah, Harper succumbed to curiosity.
“Is Angel your real name?”
“Nope.” She patted Harriet. “It’s Juliet.”
“Nice name.”
The woman sure did like the goat. Harper snickered when she glanced back at the newly decked out farm animal. At first Angel thought she was crazy, then had just as much fun dressing Harriet up as Harper had. “I think you made a new friend.”
Juliet grinned. “I love animals.”
The rest of the ride to the farm was a comfortable camaraderie. Harper found they had some similarities in sense of humor and crappy romantic histories. Harper hoped they might someday be friends.
When they pulled into the driveway, Angel visibly tensed. Harper put a hand over hers. “Trust me?”
Once the words were out, she found it ironic that she’d asked a total stranger for trust when she hadn’t given Noah the same courtesy.
“I do.”
Estelle was in the yard surrounded by chickens. A black clad figure tried to corral a brown hen into a pen. The chicken had other plans.
The older woman squelched her smile when Harper stepped out of the car. Her mouth twitched when Harriet jumped out of the vehicle and shook her goat head when a ribbon fell into her eye.
“What did you do to my goat?”
Decked out in a pink and purple tutu made for a large dog, a matching neck ruff with feathers, and a hat with ribbons and bows, Harriet was something else.
“I figured since you’ve been dropping her off at my house, she’s become my goat, too.” She fluffed the feathers. “So I can dress her how I like.”
Estelle frowned, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. She didn’t deny sneaking around after dark with the goat.
In that moment, Harper confirmed her and Noah’s earlier suspicion: Estelle was lonely. She’d played her pranks to get Harper to visit and had grown to like her.
Yet, one question remained. “How did you know where I lived?” Harper asked.
“I have my sources.”
Vague. “Hmmm.” It appeared that anyone could get her address without much effort. When she moved out of the apartment this week, she should watch that she wasn’t being tailed.
A chicken protest brought their attention around to the highly agitated brown chicken now trapped in a corner of the pen. The bird appeared to have a leg injury.
Harper recognized the face of the girl. “Wednesday?” She flushed. “I mean, Francie? What is she doing here?”
Estelle smiled when her great granddaughter caught the brown chicken in a pair of skinny arms and held her up like a trophy. “Got her!”
Estelle clearly loved the girl. “A car service dropped her off an hour ago. She found out that her mother is marrying Gerald’s killer tonight, at the jail, if she can find a judge to perform the ceremony. So now Francie wants to live with me.”
“That’s a quick marriage.” Harper wasn’t surprised. Betty Anne had issues. “Deke’s intake paperwork is still drying.”
The older woman nodded. “I’m going to make sure Betty Anne has no chance to ruin that sweet girl.”
The chicken settled and Francie examined her leg. The idea of the Goth girl living on a farm seemed absurd, but she appeared happy to help with the chickens. Harper hoped it all turned out well.
“Who is that in the car?” Estelle asked. She bent for a better look through the windshield.
Harper waved Angel out. The young woman left the safety of the car, smoothed down her skirt, and slowly walked over. Her eyes had a frightened doe look.
“Hi,” Angel said with an awkward wave. Without the makeup and harsh bar lighting, she looked young.
“Estelle, this is Juliet,” Harper said. The older woman nodded. Unsure how Estelle would take the news, Harper moved close to Angel. “There is no way to say this but to jump right in. Juliet is carrying Gerald’s baby.”
But for a slight narrowing of her eyelids, Estelle had no reaction. Angel flinched.
“She’s suing Gerald’s estate for support for the baby.” She knew Estelle appreciated bluntness. “She’s afraid Willard will try to take the baby from her.”
Estelle’s gaze dropped to Angel’s tiny belly. “You’re sure he’s the father? I don’t want to end up embarrassed on the Maury show when six other potential fathers enter the DNA roundup.”
Angel lifted her chin. “I’m 100 percent sure. I plan to take a DNA test after the birth to end all doubts.”
After a moment, Estelle seemed satisfied with her answer. What she said next was what Harper had hoped for.
“You should move in here with me and Francie. Willard wouldn’t dare try anything with you under my roof.” She smiled tightly and her eyes flashed. “I scare him.”
Harper laughed. “You scare everyone.”
“You hush,” Estelle snapped. Harper hushed. “I’m talking to the mother of my great grandchild.”
Angel visibly relaxed and smiled shyly at Estelle. “Okay.”
The bonding, and a new family, was underway. Harper was happy for the women and suspected the goat caper had come to an end.
That made her kind of sad.
“I should go,” Harper said and hugged Angel. Juliet. “Good luck with the baby and your case,” she whispered and looked into her eyes. “Keep me updated, okay?”
“I will.” Angel pulled back and tears filled her eyes. “Thank you for everything.”
Harper choked back tears and nodded to Estelle. “Take care of her, and this darn goat.” She hugged Harriet and spun toward the car. Her eyes blurred and she got about five feet.
“Hold up.” Estelle’s voice called out and she stopped. Harper glanced over her shoulder. Estelle wasn’t smiling exactly but her expression was soft. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Harper smiled wide. “You’re gonna get sick of seeing me around, old woman.”
Lips twitched. “I already am.”