tried to recall whether the man she’d just seen really had any facial hair. He’d been too far away, and her view of him too fleeting. Her mind might already be filling in the gaps.
There was no time for this. “Come on,” she said, motioning impatiently for Bonnie to follow.
The two of them half ran down the narrow lane. It was nearly midday, but thick clouds held back the February sun, casting the street in gloom.
There was no sign of him as they ran by the nursing home and followed the street around a bend. Here the houses were smaller, with neat gravel driveways beneath huge trees with branches that touched across the road.
Finally, the road ended, intersecting with another winding street lined with bungalows.
Harper turned left and right, uncertain which way to go now. Everything looked perfectly normal. A woman in a long cardigan was walking a Boston terrier. A guy in his twenties jogged past in skintight shorts, eyes hidden behind wraparound sunglasses.
There was no point in going farther. They’d just be randomly searching the island for a man who didn’t want to be found.
She’d lost him.
18
Harper stared down the road. “I can’t believe I let him get away.”
The two of them stood on the sidewalk, as the woman with the dog walked by without giving them a glance.
“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Bonnie suggested.
Harper thought about what she’d seen—the way the man paused to look at her, the recognition on his face. His smooth, controlled retreat.
“It was him.” Swearing under her breath, she kicked the root of an oak tree hard enough to make her foot ache. “I’m sorry to drag you here for nothing.”
The two of them turned and trudged back the way they’d come.
“What happened the first time you saw him?” Bonnie gave her a puzzled look.
Slowly at first, and then faster, Harper told her about that day. A killer had come to her door and she’d knocked him unconscious with a baseball bat. Only the police arriving and taking the bat from her had kept him alive.
She’d been standing on the porch, still in shock when she saw the man across the street, eyes as steady as the horizon. Unfazed by what he’d just seen her do.
A tour bus rattled by, blocking him from her sight. When it passed, he’d disappeared. Just like today.
“So much was going on back then, I was never completely certain I hadn’t imagined him,” she confessed. “Besides, there was no way to make sure it was him—I just felt it. Like I did today.”
Bonnie nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Who do you think he is?”
Harper answered without hesitation. “Someone involved in the case. State police, maybe. Or FBI.”
They were passing the nursing home now. She could see the TV vans ahead.
“You’ll find him.” Bonnie looked thoughtful. “Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you today because you weren’t alone.”
It was a good point. He wasn’t exactly an extrovert.
At least now Harper knew he was still alive. Still out there. And closer than she’d realized.
For the first time, Bonnie noticed the TV vans. As she took in the satellite dishes, and the station emblems, she took in a breath. “Oh my God, is this where Xavier Rayne lived?”
Harper tilted her head at number 6. “The one at the end.” As she did, she noticed there were three cars parked outside: The old-model Jeep and the convertible sports car had been there every time she’d visited. The third car was a black Toyota Prius. That one she hadn’t seen before. Thinking she’d make note of its license number, she felt in her pockets for her notepad, but she’d forgotten to pick one up when she left the house. The absence made her feel naked.
“I need paper,” she muttered, mostly to herself.
“You can borrow some of mine.” The voice came from behind them.
Jon Graff walked up and held out a battered notebook. She stepped back, instinctively.
“Loved your story this morning,” he said. “Couldn’t have written it better myself.”
Harper fixed him with a look. “Did you steal it line for line again?”
“Only the best parts. You’re a little wordy.” His smile widened, revealing nicotine-stained teeth. “So, you finally saw through Cara’s act.”
His approval made her skin crawl.
“I just wrote what I was told by the police and the coroner.” Motioning for Bonnie to follow, she shoved past him, trying to get away, but he trotted beside them.
“Stuart must have blown a gasket when he read the front page,” he said.