One of Those Faces (62)

I pulled my phone out. I still had the tab open to the story about Holly. “Look for yourself.” I slid it across the table to him. My heart raced as he picked it up.

Danny raised his eyebrows and held the phone closer to his face. He glanced back at me. “You’re right,” he said, handing it back to me. “That’s pretty uncanny.”

“You don’t think that’s weird?”

“It’s an unsettling coincidence, maybe.” He sat back in his seat, relieved or underwhelmed, I couldn’t tell.

“What about the added fact that she was murdered right outside my window?” I challenged. “Does that still seem like a coincidence to you?”

He rubbed his chin. “That is pretty strange.”

I looked back at my screen and flipped to the next article tab. I held it up this time. “This is Sarah. Her body was found near Logan’s Square a couple of weeks before Holly.”

Danny furrowed his brow, leaning toward my phone intently. “Okay,” he said. “Now we have weird.” He opened his hand. “May I?”

I handed the phone to him.

He flipped through the articles, his frown deepening with each flick of his finger on the screen. “The police aren’t looking into this?” he asked after a minute.

“They did,” I said. “I mentioned Sarah to a detective when he came asking about Holly.” I squeezed the edge of the table with my palm until it hurt. “They think they know who killed Holly.”

“Okay, then. Have they been arrested?”

I sighed. “He killed himself before they could finish investigating. But they seem pretty certain he did it, though. They say he left a note confessing.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Danny asked.

I scratched my fingernail against the table. “Maybe. But I can’t stop thinking about Sarah,” I said. “I have this feeling it was connected to Holly’s murder somehow.”

“But the police don’t?”

“They don’t seem to.” I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “They have a pretty clear connection between this dead guy and Holly.”

Danny took a sip of his coffee. “So they think her murder was just a one-off? They’re not looking into a possible serial killer?”

I nodded. “And maybe it’s not. But something feels off about it.” I glanced down at my hands. “In the beginning, the detective asked if there’s anyone in my past who would want to hurt me.”

Danny’s face tensed.

“Do you think . . . would he come here looking for me?” My throat tightened. “To hurt me like that?” Not to hurt. To kill.

Danny immediately shook his head. “He’s your father, Harper. He wouldn’t—” He stopped, his eyes drifting to the small scar along my temple. It had long faded. No one else had ever even noticed it. Not even Iann—it was so close to my hairline. But Danny’s eyes locked onto it. “Did you tell the detective about him?”

I hung my head. “It’s too unbelievable.” Maybe he did want to hurt me. Maybe even to kill me. But he wouldn’t go around the city murdering random girls. Would he? “Even after everything he did, I can’t completely believe he would do that to other girls. Even if he thought they were me.”

Danny clenched his fist on the table. “I think you need to say something. What if you are in danger?” He raised his eyebrows. “What about the girl at the club?”

I wrapped his coat tighter around my waist. “What?”

“You asked me about her. What does she have to do with this?”

It was comforting to hear Danny affirm my paranoia. Maybe I wasn’t crazy. But what I was doing to Jenny was definitely not okay. I tugged on a strand of hair. “Nothing. I remembered that night now, and I was just curious.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t buy it. “Why do you always have to hold something back?” he asked, irritated.

I wasn’t the only one holding back. “How are things going with Erin?” I snapped.

He furrowed his brow. “Erin?”

“Yeah. You two went home together, right?”

His eyes changed. “No, we didn’t.” He shook his head. “And if we had, is it that upsetting to you that I could be with someone else? Jesus, you have a boyfriend. What’s the matter with you?”

I swallowed, my rage turning into embarrassment. “You’re right,” I said, putting my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, Danny. I don’t know what I’m thinking or doing these days.” My skin burned as I thought about Jenny’s apartment. What the hell was I thinking?

He waited for more. An explanation. A normal person would have a real explanation for all this.

He tapped the table and stood up. “It’s fine,” he said. “Look, I have to get back to work. But we’re not finished talking about all of this.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Hold on to the coat.”

“Okay,” I said and watched him leave and cross the street into Tribune Tower. He didn’t look back. Relief warmed my skin, easing down the goose bumps from the cold. Speaking these dark thoughts out loud made me feel less alone. And now, if something happened to me, at least Danny would know the truth.