Hope's Peak (Harper and Lane #1)(40)

Julie comes running from her house at the sight of Mack walking back to his car, fists bloodied, his face red.

“Mack, what happened?” she asks him, getting near.

He rounds on her, shoves her back. She falls on her ass in the street. “Fuck off!” he shouts.

Julie scrambles away from him and Mack jumps in his car, the engine roaring to life. He sets off, tires screeching up the street. Julie waits for him to go, then looks at Ceeli’s place.

What if she’s dead in there?

She swallows, considers going in to check on her, but hesitates.

Why did I get involved? Why didn’t I mind where I stuck my nose?

Her conscience wins and Julie goes to Ceeli’s front door. She knocks on it and the door swings inward.

“Ceeli? You in?”

You know she is. He’s probably smashed her head in and left her bleeding out . . .

“Ceeli?”

Julie finds her in the kitchen, lying on the tiles, trying to get herself to a sitting position. Her head is lumpy and swollen, the skin around both eyes rapidly turning black. There’s a giant handprint across her face from where she’s been hit.

“What you doin’ here, Julie? Did you cause this?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean for any of—”

Ceeli suddenly bolts upright, snarling. “Get outta my house! Get out! GET OUT!”

Any thoughts Julie had of calling an ambulance, or the police, are forgotten as she runs from Ceeli’s house, crying.

Why did I open my big fat mouth?



Stu raps his fingertips on the edge of her desk. “You ready?”

Harper gets up. “Yeah—” She catches a blonde-haired woman walking into the office, scanning the room at first, then spotting them. “Oh fuck.”

Stu frowns. “What?”

Harper nods in the direction of his ex-wife, headed their way. “Trouble.”

He turns around, with Karen in his face within seconds. She shoves him in the chest, knocking his butt against the desk.

“What the fuck, Karen?”

Harper starts to move in on her, grab her in a headlock, and slam her down on the desk, but Stu gets in the way. “Stu—”

“I’ll handle this.”

Harper glances about—it’s no surprise everyone has stopped what they’re doing to watch the drama unfold. In her peripheral vision she can see Dudley hovering nervously, unsure what to do.

“You cheating bastard. What, you thought I wouldn’t find out, you son of a bitch?” Karen looks around him, eyes lighting on Harper. “This your new girlfriend?”

Harper comes around the desk, hands open in front of her in the most disarming gesture she can muster. “Karen, please calm down. There’s a time and place—”

Karen lunges for her. Stu is able to hold Karen back, but not before she reaches Harper’s hair. She pulls hard. Harper stumbles forward, regains her footing, holds her hair to prevent Karen from ripping it clean out. “Get her off!”

“I’m trying!” Stu yells. He’s grappling her around the waist, pulling her back, but Karen isn’t letting go. What’s more, she’s started to kick. Harper leans back, snarling at the pain, barely avoiding Karen’s shoe.

“Fuckin’ whore!”

Harper reaches up for Karen’s face, the side of her head, and then her hair. She grabs a big handful of it and tries to pull it from her head. Karen cries out in pain, which only makes her harden her grip. Stu inserts himself between them, and officers pile in, pulling the two women back from one another.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told,” Harper gasps, “but it’s bullshit.”

“You slept with my man, then he left me. It’s pretty simple!” Karen starts forward again, straining against the arms and hands holding her in place.

Captain Morelli’s voice booms across the office.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?”



Lester is eating cold spaghetti rings from the can with a fork.

He sits in his shorts, flicking his hand at the flies buzzing around his dinner. The TV booms out—an old black-and-white western he’s seen a dozen times before. He digs into the can, watching the screen, and almost shovels the spaghetti rings in without looking. But he stops, noticing that a big black fly has settled on the fork. It sits staring back at him, as if trying to determine what he is.

You gotta eat it all lester or no puddin’ . . .

Lester opens his mouth, rams the fork in, then clamps his tortured lips around it as he pulls it out. He has a mouthful of cold, slimy spaghetti rings and a juicy black fly trying desperately to get out. It buzzes against his cheek, rolls around his teeth, filling his mouth with its panic. Lester bites down hard, mushing the spaghetti rings together, missing the fly. He chews, misses it again.

He waits, clamps his jaws down. His teeth crunch on the fly, and he can taste it with the chemical-tainted tomato sauce the spaghetti is canned in. A few chews and he swallows the whole concoction, amused with himself, secretly hoping it’ll happen again someday.

See i knew you could do it what a big boy you are . . .

He grins stupidly to himself. “Thankf, Mama,” he says to the empty house.

The phone rings. Lester growls, throws the can down on the table, and storms over to the phone.