Hope's Peak (Harper and Lane #1)(47)

Ida’s lips press to a thin line, her jaw taut as she sets her cup down on the table. “What they deserve, Jane.”



A timer goes off in the kitchen, and Ida moves to a metal mixing bowl on the windowsill, peels back a dish towel to reveal dough risen almost to the surface. Harper watches as Ida slaps the dough with the back of her hand, and it sinks immediately.

“Making bread?”

“Uh-huh,” Ida says, easing the dough from the bowl onto the work surface. “I make a loaf every couple of days. Never buy one. Sometimes I make them for others, if there’s a demand.”

“I’ve never seen it made before,” Harper admits.

Ida looks at her, eyebrows up in peaks. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Harper laughs. “Is that strange?”

“Round these parts, maybe,” Ida says. She starts to work the dough.

“So, I’m curious as to what prompted this visit, Jane. Have there been more developments?” She folds the dough over, presses down hard with the ball of her hand, stretches it out, folds it over again. “Please tell me there isn’t another young woman’s been found.”

“No, nothing like that. I just came to see you. I felt like I should, after what happened up at Wisher’s Pond. I felt bad.”

“For what?”

“For putting you through that, when there wasn’t any real need. I just thought—”

“I’m glad you did take me there,” Ida tells her, working the dough, her voice tight with effort. “It showed me you believed in me, that you don’t think I’m nuts. Like they did back when they locked me up.”

Harper stands and leans against the counter, watching Ida work. “I hoped you might pick up on something. A trace of something. It was a long shot, but at this point, I’ll take any break I can get.”

“Let me ask you something. How come you’ve worked your way to me after all these years? And what about the other families? He must have killed in the past thirty years. He must’ve.”

Oh God, she is sharp.

“I’m going to be completely honest here, Ida. I need you to listen to what I have to tell you.”

“Go on.”

Harper starts at the beginning, and tells her the whole story. Ida listens while she works the dough, lets it rise a second time, and shapes it to go in the loaf pan.



“You haven’t said a lot,” Harper says. It’s immeasurably hot, the air still and smothering.

They’re out on the porch, listening to another of Ida’s records, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting from within. “I don’t know what to say. I guess I’m sad. No, angry, that those families have been lied to, that this man has been allowed to get away with killing young women all these years, with no one to stop him.”

“I know how you feel, and I completely sympathize. They justified it as protecting the town.”

Ida shakes her head in disgust. “Apple’s rotten, no matter how much you polish it on your sleeve.”

“Well, the truth is out now. And when we catch this guy, the whole world will know it, I promise,” Harper says. “But that’s why we can’t contact the other families. They don’t know their daughters died in such a way.”

“So all you have is me, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Harper sighs.

Ida looks out at the horizon, where it gets hazy, her eyes narrowed. “Four years they locked me up at the mental hospital, thinkin’ I was nuts. Four years. I wasn’t allowed music, despite asking for some over and over again. I was a prisoner. They didn’t let me out of my room at night, not after I tried to kill myself. All I’ve ever wanted is to heal. That’s why I live out here, Jane. I need space to fix myself, sort my head out. But more than that, I guess I’ve wanted to feel understood.”

“Ida—” Harper starts to speak, but her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out, looks down at the screen.



Dead end on Ruby’s work friends. No record of who was employed there. How’s it going? Where are you?—SR



She types back quickly:



Still at Ida’s. I’ve told her everything. Will explain later.



His response is immediate.



Ok. Take care of yourself. Talk to you later.—SR



Harper is about to put it away when it vibrates again.



BTW, last night was amazing. We need to discuss at some point. I think I’ve fallen for you, Jane. I hope you feel the same. Sorry to put this on you, but I need to say it.—SR



“Trouble?” Ida asks quietly, watching her put the phone away.

“No,” Harper says.

Did Stu just say he loves me? Is that what that text was?

“You don’t know what it means to me that you believe what I’m sayin’,” Ida tells Harper. “I’ve waited so long.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ida gets up. “You want to stay for dinner? I’m doing a chicken. And I’ve got beers in the fridge, nice and cold.”

Harper smiles up at her. “You had me at beers. And I am kind of suspended, after all.”

Ida heads back inside. “Be right back.”