very much an attractive man with a full head of salt and pepper hair, trimmed short, and a sort of . . . capability about him. A competence few men carried. He was the type of man who would always take charge during an emergency situation, and he’d remain calm while doing so. He was the type of man you’d naturally turn to if you were having a problem. He seemed like . . . like her dad had been. She recognized that quality in him because she’d experienced it in her father. And because of that, her comfort level increased immediately.
“Dwayne tells me your father was the sheriff here before him.”
For a moment Harper simply stared at him, the question taking her by surprise after she’d just literally been thinking about her dad. She gave herself an internal shake and cleared her throat. “Yes. He . . . he was. For a short time.”
Mark Gallagher paused for a beat before nodding. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Harper’s eyes darted away. She wasn’t used to speaking about her parents and especially not with strangers. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.”
“Time can be relative.”
She nodded and looked away. When she returned her eyes to him, he looked down to his notebook, tapping the pen on the cover.
“Dwayne also says you grew up in this area, and that you know every nook and cranny of the surrounding wilderness.”
Harper blew out a breath. Dwayne apparently had said quite a bit. “I did grow up here. I moved to Missoula when I was seven, but spent summers here when I was in high school, and then moved back four years ago. Since then, I’ve spent practically every day in the wilderness, nine months out of the year. I’m very familiar with the area. But there’s no way any one person could know every inch of the wilderness surrounding Helena Springs. It’s vast, and it’s extremely harsh in winter—deadly even . . .” Unexpectedly, her breath hitched. Deadly even. Yes, she should know. She’d lost both her parents in that unforgiving terrain. She shook off the emotion, surprised that it’d gripped her so suddenly. Time can be relative. Yes, and who knew that better than she did? She still grappled with their loss well over a decade later. But she rarely lost control of her emotions, and especially not in front of a perfect stranger. She cleared her throat, annoyed with herself. “But I’m very familiar with quite a bit of it, depending on what you’re looking for and where you’re looking.”
Mark Gallagher leaned back in his chair. “That might be the difficult part. We’re not quite sure what we’re looking for, other than someone adept with a bow and arrow. Although there were some unusual things found at the second crime scene that might prove helpful. I’m assuming Dwayne filled you in on the basics about the two crimes?”
Harper nodded. “Yes. I’ve got the basics.”
Agent Gallagher leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “Good. Mostly, I need someone who can get me out there, and you seem to be just that person.” Before she could reply, he went on. “You’d be paid as a consultant to the case. Reimbursed for your mileage and any other expenses.”
Harper bit at her lip. She could use the money. She could always use the money. Still, she’d never imagined she would be a consultant to anyone, much less someone trying to solve two grisly crimes. “How long do you think you’ll be here?” She had no idea how crime solving worked, despite that her father had made his livelihood in the field. But she’d been so young when he died. And anyway, then, or now, crimes simply didn’t occur in Helena Springs. In fact, the last time she could remember a crime that had been remotely similar to this one was when Lyle Fredericks beat his wife half to death and then used his shotgun on himself. His wife, Samantha, had survived, but she’d left town to live with her cousin—and to escape being “the woman whose husband almost beat to death before committing suicide.” Labels were difficult to get away from in a small town.
Of course, what had happened to her parents, what had happened to her, had been an accident, not a crime. Still, she’d heard the whispers, knew the labels she wore.
That poor thing.
Orphan.
“Depends. Might be three days, might be three months. There’s no way to say at this point in the investigation. I’m here