nineteen
Harley rarely went to the police station. She’d learned years ago that it was a mistake to bother her dad while he was working. But tonight she was too anxious to wait until he got home. The station was quiet, dimly lit. There was no receptionist because it was so late. The only person Harley saw was her dad sitting at his desk, hunched over a file.
When her dad spotted her, his eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting clear up his forehead. Closing the file, he cleared his throat loudly.
“Harley? What are you doing here?” It wasn’t said in a concerned, fatherly tone. More of an angry, irritated one.
What was new?
“I need to talk to you,” she spoke assuredly, keeping her head raised. He may not have treated her like it, but she was her father’s daughter. One day he’d see that. One day she’d make him proud.
Mark stepped out of the interrogation room to Harley’s right.
“Harley, is this an emergency?” Her dad asked, eyeing his partner. “Because I’m really busy right now.”
Irritation surfaced. He was always busy.
“Are you working on Lauren’s case?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes. Clearly it was the wrong thing to say. “Please tell me that’s not why you’re here,” he ground out. Then he stood and leaned over his desk. With his head bent close to hers, he whispered harshly, “I told you to stay out of this, and I meant it.” His breath smelled of stale coffee.
Harley scrunched up her nose. “But I have some information--”
“I can’t do this with you right now,” he cut her off. “Go home. I’ll see you there soon.”
“Soon? Really?” she said sarcastically.
His gaze crashed into hers. In his eyes she saw a mixture of emotions reminding her of a watercolor painting. There was anger, regret, confusion, and curiosity all blended together. “Yes. I’ll be home soon. We’ll have dinner together, and we’ll talk.” By the way he said that last part, it was clear he thought he’d be the one steering the conversation. Obviously, he had some things on his mind. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were.
“Dinner time already passed hours ago, Dad.”
“Oh.” He blinked numerous times. “I didn’t realize.” Glancing down at his watch, he nodded. “Wow, it’s late.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, annoyed. “And I need to talk to you tonight. It can’t wait.”
“I said I’ll be home soon.”
She narrowed her eyes.
He sighed. “I will. I promise. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
It wasn’t good enough. “Soon” could be four in the morning. They say patience is a virtue, but Harley had never been virtuous. She wasn’t waiting until tomorrow to hash this out. She was doing it now. Ever since she and Dylan had left the creek, her mind was plagued with images of Mr. Packard’s groping hands and beady eyes. His rank scent was on her clothes, in her hair, staining her skin. It was as if the memory had come alive and now clung to her.
She had to get rid of it.
There was no way she was going home alone. In that small, warm house with the faulty lights and mildew smell, she’d go crazy. She’d slowly lose her mind until she had not a single ounce of sanity left.
“I’m not leaving until we talk,” she demanded. Even when his eyes flashed sharply like a gun going off, she didn’t back down. She stood taller.
“Fine,” he snapped. Mark stood at the edge of the room watching their exchange. Harley hadn’t even realized he was still there. Odd how he was able to stay so quiet and unmovable. Maybe that was part of their police training. “Mark, I’ll be there in a minute. I have to take care of something.”
“No problem, Karl. I’ll handle it until then,” Mark responded, nodding toward Harley and her dad.
She flashed him a grateful smile as he disappeared into the interrogation room. Who was in there? Did it have to do with Lauren’s case. Her pulse quickened. If only she could see inside.
“C’mon.” Her dad motioned for her to follow him. Then he started walking away from his desk. She trailed him as they made their way down a dimly lit hallway. It was cold, and goosebumps rose along her flesh causing her hair to stand on end. A chill snaked its way down her spine.
A police station at night would make the perfect set for a horror movie. It was creepy.
Her dad opened a door to his right and waved out his arm as if to sweep Harley inside. Swallowing hard, she obeyed him. The room was small with one table in the middle and two chairs on either side. With a churning stomach, she thought about how much it looked like the ones she’d seen on TV.
“Have a seat,” her dad said in an encouraging way.
“Ookay,” she drug out the word, feeling uncomfortable. When she said she wanted to talk to her dad, she wasn’t expecting something so formal, so constricting, so paranoia-inducing. She felt scrutinized. She felt like a suspect. Tugging at her collar, she stepped back. “On second thought, I guess we can talk when you get home.”
“It’s fine. I have a few minutes.” Her dad took the chair opposite her. “Sit down.” He pointed to the empty chair across from him. It wasn’t a suggestion.
Pressing her lips together, she reluctantly lowered herself down into the chair. It let out a few squeaks in protest as she shifted to get comfortable, an impossible task in this chair and in this room.
“What’s so important that you came all the way down here?” He leaned back, tenting his fingers together.
She imagined this was what it was like for Dylan when he was interrogated. If she didn’t know her dad, would she find him intimidating? She stared at him a moment. Yeah, probably.
“I know who killed Lauren.”
He shook his head back and forth, his lips drawing into a tight line. Dropping his hands, he exhaled. “Not this again.”
“This is different. This time I’m 100% certain I know who did it.”
“Harley--” he started, but she cut him off.
“It was Mr. Packard!”
He recoiled. “Seriously? Haven’t you accused this guy of enough already?”
Hot tears sprung to her eyes. It happened so fast she couldn’t stop them. “It wasn’t an accusation. It was the truth.”
“Then or now?”
“Both times.”
He studied her a moment, but his expression was unreadable, and it unnerved her. “What proof do you have?” She froze as he held out his hand. “I’m assuming since you came tearing in here needing to talk to me right away that you have proof to show.”
“Well…um….” she sputtered.
“That’s what I thought.” He wore a smug smile.
“Her body was found right behind his house.”
“It was found in the creek, which happened to be located near his house. It was also near her house, near many of her friend’s houses, and in fact, it was near Dylan’s house.”
“But it was closest to Mr. Packard’s.” She wiped away a stray tear. “And that’s not all. Dylan saw him in front of Lauren’s.”
“He did?” Her dad raised one eyebrow, and it gave her hope that she was getting somewhere. “The night of the murder? That’s funny, because he told us he was working that night.”
Wait. What? Why was he turning this around?
“He was working that night.” Oh, god, she was making everything worse. It was this room. This chair. This place. Licking her lips slowly, she reached down and nervously scratched at the top of her arm.
“But you just said that he saw him in front of her house,” her dad reminded her as if she was daft.
“Not that night. A few nights before she died.”
“Let me get this straight.” Her dad pursed his lips. “Dylan saw one of Lauren’s neighbors in her neighborhood a few days before she died, and that means he killed her? If that’s the case, we have a lot more suspects than we originally thought.” When he let out a light chuckle, it sparked something inside of her. Something that felt an awful lot like rage. It had been simmering since she’d first walked in this room, but now it was boiling over like a pot on the stove as water foamed over the sides.
“It’s not just that!” She stood so fast she knocked over her chair, and it clattered to the ground. “It’s also because I know what kind of man he is. I know what he’s capable of. He’s a sick man!” Her whole body was trembling. “Please, Dad, just tell me you’ll at least look into it. Tell me he’s at least a suspect.”
His eyes crinkled in concern, and for one second she thought he finally believed her. “I never should’ve taken you out of therapy.”
His statement was like a knife to her heart. Her mouth fell open, but no sound came out. She could scarcely breathe. When she finally regained her composure, she tugged on the bottom of her shirt and straightened her spine.
“No amount of therapy could make me forget what that man did to me.”
Her dad was silent a moment. The clock on the wall ticked. Someone walked down the hallway. The bottom of her dad’s chair scraped on the ground when he moved slightly.
“I thought you were getting better. I thought that moving here would help things. Clearly, it hasn’t.” His shoulders stooped, a sad expression cloaking his face. “I think it may have made you worse.”
Her knees softened, her body sagging against the table. If it wasn’t there, she was certain she would fall into a puddle on the floor.
“I’m not lying, Dad. I’ve never been lying.”
“Never?” His eyebrows raised, and the remaining hope that she’d been holding onto slipped through her fingers. It was no use. The sins of her past would always catch up to her. In her dad’s eyes, she’d never be anything more than her mistakes.
Defeated, she shoved away from the table. “Sorry I bothered you,” she muttered as she spun around.
“Harley?”
“Yes?” She pivoted.
“You never did tell me where you were the night Lauren died. I know you weren’t home.”
She sucked in a breath, growing serious. “You don’t believe Mr. Packard…” she couldn’t bring herself to say what he did to her. “…hurt me, but you think I’m capable of murdering someone?”
“I never said that I thought you murdered anyone, Harley. Stop being so dramatic.”
Her dad had always teased her about being a drama queen. It was one of the reasons she’d stopped acting. He’d made it clear he thought it was silly. But this time she wasn’t being dramatic. She was being practical, methodical, and serious. For weeks, she’d been poring over evidence and acting like a real detective. She was certain she’d solved Lauren’s murder. Yet, he still didn’t take her seriously. He still mocked her.
“You want to know where I was?” she asked. “I was home.”
“No.” He shook his head. “You weren’t.”
“I was. I was in the city.”
“What?” Now she had his undivided attention.
“I took a bus, and I went to our old neighborhood. I sat on the steps of our apartment complex and I breathed in the chilly night air. I inhaled the familiar smells. And I bought a hot dog from a street vendor just like Mom and I used to do.”
“Harley.” Her dad’s face fell. “Your mom never--”
Knowing what he was going to say, she cut him off. She couldn’t take it. Not tonight. “Stop, Dad. Just stop. Why can’t you let me have anything?” He clamped his mouth shut. “I have the bus ticket if you need proof.” She emphasized the word proof, hoping he’d catch the meaning. “It’s at home. I can give it to you later.”
“Okay,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Can I go now, Officer McVay?”
“Harley,” he said in an apologetic way.
But it was too late. She shook her head. “I’m tired.”
“All right. Go home and get some sleep.”
Without saying goodbye, she tore out of the interrogation room and hurried out of the police station.