Hope's Peak (Harper and Lane #1)(9)

She was just a single mom trying to do the right thing.

Harper flicks through the pages until she reaches the point in Detective Lloyd Claymore’s notes where he mentions Ruby’s daily life. She worked school hours at a dry cleaner’s in Chalmer, renting a one bedroom at the back of a bar.

Working, making sure Ida attended school, doing what she could.

Returning to Ida’s file, she sees there’s not much more. Following the death of her mother, Ida’s residence changed to that of her guardians—her grandparents. From the looks of things, unless the records are severely out of date, Ida lives there still. Harper looks at the name adorning each report.

“Detective Lloyd Claymore?”

Stu consults his notes. “Claymore now resides at Baxter Retirement Home, north of Hope’s Peak. I’ve got the address right here.”

Harper gets up, takes her keys and bag. “Let’s go see what he remembers.”

“What about my coffee? I didn’t even touch it!”

Harper holds the door open for him. “Ask ’em for a cup with a lid.”



Driving through Hope’s Peak, Harper calls Albie Goode’s phone.

“Albie.”

“It’s Harper. I’m heading out with Raley, following up on a potential lead. Do you think you could ask around, see what you can turn up about Alma Buford’s friends?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do,” he says.

Harper hangs up.

Stu offers her a stick of gum. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Are you saying I’ve got coffee breath?”

“Nope. And anyway, if you do, I do, too.” Stu pockets the gum. They stop at a set of lights. “Hey, uh, I’ll have a talk with Karen. You know, when I’ve got a chance. Convince her she’s wrong about us. She must’ve heard something from someone.”

“How do you mean?” Harper asks.

“Someone’s told her we’re sleeping together, and that it dates back to before we were divorced.”

The lights change. Harper presses the gas pedal and moves with the flow of traffic.

“Who’d do that?” she asks. “We’re on good terms with most of the station.”

Stu shrugs. “Could be anyone. People gossip too much. You know what it’s like in a workplace, how quickly these fucking rumors spread.”

Truth be told, they haven’t had sex for weeks. With both of them coming out of long-term relationships, the last thing they wanted to do was throw themselves at each other. That, and they’d have to stop working together. Likely she’d get stuck with John Dudley as her new partner.

That is not an option.

“I’m not going to think about it right now, Stu,” Harper admits. “There’s just the case. Everything else can wait.”

“I hear you,” he says, knowing all too well why she hasn’t been interested in sleeping with him. Since getting assigned to run the Alma Buford case, Harper cannot switch off, and her romantic entanglements with Stu Raley are at the bottom of her list.

They drive on in silence for a while and Harper wonders if what she really meant was that they could wait.

She suspects that Stu is wondering the same thing.



The desk clerk at the Baxter Retirement Home calls for a nurse to take them through the east wing of the building. They go through one set of security doors, accessed by punching in a code. There is a short hall, with a few doors on either side, then another security door that prevents any further progress.

“What is this place? Fort Knox?” Stu asks.

The nurse chuckles. “Something like that. We have to be careful. The old folks like to go off and wander.”

“Escape you mean,” Stu says.

“We’re extra vigilant today because we lost a resident a few days ago. Most of the staff have gone to the funeral, so we’re running a skeleton crew until they come back.”

“That’s sad,” Harper says. “How old?”

“Eighty-six years old,” the nurse says. “Went in her sleep.”

Stu sighs. “What a way to go . . .”

Harper knows her partner is thinking about those girls, and how they were not afforded the luxury of passing away as they slept.

They’re led to a communal area where a few of the residents are playing checkers. One particularly miserable-looking man sits in an armchair, head resting on his chest, snoring, dribble running from his mouth and down his top.

“Don’t mind Frank,” the nurse says. “That’s how he sleeps. It’s because he takes his teeth out.”

In the corner an old man listens to the radio, head cocked to one side.

“Lloyd—” the nurse starts to say.

The old man waves a hand at him. “Shush for a minute.”

Their chaperone shares a look with them. “Lloyd, you’ve got visitors.”

Lloyd ignores him.

Harper realizes the old man’s listening to the ninth inning of a baseball game. In his hand, he holds a piece of paper, a betting slip.

“You bet the game,” Harper says.

Lloyd looks at her, then returns to the radio. “Figure that out all by yourself?”