true, as she’d had one right before Rylee’s wedding two weeks before. “How was Mexico? I want all the dirty details.” She sat in the salon chair at her friend’s station and met her eyes in the mirror, raising one finger. “Wait, maybe not all the dirty details.”
Rylee smiled, picking the cape up and securing it around Harper’s neck. She moved Harper’s hair aside and put her hands on her shoulders, looking at her in the mirror in front of where Harper sat. “It was dirty. In all the best ways.” She winked. “And amazing. I hardly wanted to come back.”
“When I was here waiting for you?”
“You, and about ten feet of snow.”
“Good point.” Harper smiled. “So married life is good so far?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand around. “But we’ve been living together forever. It hardly feels like anything’s changed now that all the hoopla’s over with. Anyway, enough about that. I can’t believe I’m just now getting the details about finding your parents’ car.” Her eyes widened and she leaned forward slightly. “How are you, Harper? Really? I mean, I almost fell over dead when I got your text.” Rylee glanced back at Moira, the owner of the hair salon where she worked and then grabbed a comb off the counter, running it through Harper’s hair.
Harper sighed. “I’m okay. I’m good.” Better than she’d been before.
Rylee began sectioning Harper’s hair and clipping it up. “I just can’t believe it. After all these years. And how was it found? You don’t usually go out searching in the winter, do you?”
Harper paused, going quickly back over everything that had happened since Rylee left on her honeymoon. It was like life had turned upside down since then. “No, it wasn’t me who found it. I was led there.” She paused, thinking about where to start, realizing all the ways life had changed in the short time her friend had been out of town. “Did you hear about the murder in town? At the Larkspur?”
Rylee frowned as she clipped the ends of Harper’s hair. “Yeah. As soon as I got back. Some woman passing through town, right? I heard someone said it was a boyfriend she might be traveling with or something?” She shook her head. “Seriously awful. But what does that have to do with your parents?”
“Nothing. Well, sort of nothing.” It was all seemingly connected to Lucas—some in bigger ways, some in smaller. Some in ways she possibly didn’t understand, because he wasn’t the most forthcoming man. But Lucas stood right in the middle of everything that had happened or come to light in the last couple of weeks. What does that mean? Does it have bigger implications than—
“Earth to Harper.”
“Sorry.” She began telling Rylee about Agent Mark Gallagher, about Isaac Driscoll, about Lucas, and then about the necklace and how he’d led her to her parents’ wreckage, including her mother’s backpack. When she mentioned her mother’s notes on the Count of Monte Cristo, she left out the way he’d treated them as though they were the Holy Grail. She wasn’t sure why, it simply felt like something that should remain between them. Now who’s the secretive one, Harper?
But Harper had always had secrets. She was used to keeping them.
Rylee continued trimming her hair, her eyes wide, a look of disbelief on her face when Harper was done. “Wow.”
“I know. It’s . . . crazy.”
“So, if your Tarzan has been ruled out for the moment, there are no suspects in either of the murders?”
Tarzan. Harper rolled her eyes. “He’s not my anything. And no, not as far as I know, although I’m not really privy to every single lead the police are working on. Agent Gallagher’s been nice enough to keep me in the loop about my parents’ case, and has answered a few questions I had about Lucas, but it’s not like I’m actually working every angle of the investigation.”
“Even so”—she smiled—“your dad would be proud.” She used her hand not holding the scissors to squeeze Harper’s shoulder, her smile dimming. “I know I’ve mentioned it before but . . . my dad’s still sorry he didn’t take you in,” she said softly. “He regrets it. I can tell by the way his mood shifts whenever he asks about you.”
Harper shook her head, making a small sound of denial. “You were barely making ends meet. The loss of your mother was still fresh, Rylee . . . I get it. I get why it wasn’t an option. I don’t