Chapter 30
Harper’s legs gave way. Noah caught her in mid-wobble and eased her onto the arm of the couch. “That’s impossible,” she said in a tight tone and looked into his eyes. “Noah, I swear I don’t use that computer.”
“I know, baby.”
No amount of denial swayed the detective. She was on the verge of arrest. What was worse was that there was zero chance she’d have one night of passion and fun with Noah before heading off to jail. She’d missed her chance.
Would chest tattooed woman remember her? Would they be friends with benefits?
Damn, she’d lost her mind. “I don’t understand any of this,” she said quietly to Noah. “What is going on?”
“Evidence is stacking up against you, that’s what,” Mignon said, and toyed with his handcuffs hooked to his belt buckle. “Would you like to confess, Ms. Evans? I’ll read you your rights first, all legal like.”
“No one is confessing,” Noah snapped.
“Um, Detective,” the officer at the computer said. He no longer looked like the Cheshire Cat. “You need to see this.”
Great. What else was in there? Harper braced herself for the second shoe to slam her upside the head. They’d probably get her for illegally downloading cat videos or some such. She had gone through the cute kitty phase.
The two men huddled again. The officer pointed to the screen and whispered something. Mignon visibly deflated. “Shit.” He tugged a bushy gray brow, then scratched the side of his head.
“What did you find?” Noah asked.
Mignon appeared readier to jump in front of a train than answer the question. “There’s a problem.”
“Tell me what’s happening.” Noah was already angry. He wasn’t about to let this, whatever they’d found, go.
“The time stamp on the search was yesterday,” the officer said, reluctantly. “At five p.m.”
“What does that mean?” Harper pressed. Her mind headed in all directions and she couldn’t process a cohesive thought.
A relieved smiled tugged Noah’s face. “It means that the search for the blueprints was well after the murder.” He gave her a minute to soak that up. “Why would you need blueprints to the hotel when Covington was already dead?”
Harper was fried, but still had the ability to understand that she wasn’t heading to jail. Not tonight, anyway.
“Oh, thank goodness.”
Beneath her PJ’s, her heart started beating normally again. She ran to Noah. He lifted her up and hugged her tight. “You’re going to beat this, HJ,” he said against her hair.
With him at her side, she had a real chance.
It took willpower not to say “I told you so” to the detective. She knew he was doing his job, and she had huge respect for law enforcement. Yet, he’d been focused on her from the beginning to the exclusion of others. Perhaps now, he’d give her a break, even a small one. She could use a minute to breathe untainted air.
Mignon stepped up, not as gruff as before. “Either you’re instigating an elaborate plan to throw us off, or someone is playing games.”
She believed he’d hoped for the former, but was starting to believe the latter.
“Are you saying I might not be guilty?” She held his stare. “That’s a concept I’ve been pitching since day one.”
There was so much more she could say, accusations of his singlemindedness, but she had him slightly tipped to her side and she wasn’t about to make an enemy.
“There is more you should know,” she said. So she told Noah and the detective about the moved body wash and teapot, the damage to her car, and the phone calls. “Added to the break-in and the computer scam, it all adds up to some sort of conspiracy.”
“Why didn’t you me tell this?” Noah asked. He had known about the Mustang and the calls. Not the others.
“I thought I was forgetful,” she said. “I’ve been exhausted and stressed out.”
Noah returned his attention to the detective. “I don’t know how someone could have gotten into this apartment, but the locks on the motel door could be opened by a kid with a paperclip.”
Mignon listened intently. “Had you shared this earlier, we could have checked the motel for fingerprints.”
“Truthfully?” She took a deep breath. “I don’t trust you to look after my best interests. And I didn’t put any of this together until the intruder got ahold of the computer. I know for a fact, it was in the bottom of the box.”
The detective finished his notes. When he lifted his gaze, the expression in them was flat. “The question remains, why would someone do this to you?”
Harper was as puzzled as Mignon was.
“She’s being gaslighted by the killer,” Noah interrupted and rubbed his face. “To keep her off balance.”
Harper startled. “You mean like in that old movie?” This was a twist she hadn’t considered. Her most excellent investigator had. He was worth every bit of the one hundred dollars she’d paid him.
Noah nodded. The officers went quiet. “Not only is the killer trying to make you think you’re crazy, he or she is setting you up to take a hard fall.”