A Beautiful Corpse. Christi Daugherty

it. Turn around.’

      Before she realized what he was planning, he grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around and shoving her roughly against the nearest car.

      Harper struggled, but he was twice her size. She never had a chance. Her face was pressed hard against the glass.

      ‘Goddamn it,’ she said, her voice muffled. ‘Let me go, you dickhead.’

      Suddenly, another voice spoke over her.

      ‘What’s going on, Bob? Caught yourself another suspect?’

      This voice was cool and steady. It was saying all the right things, but with an underlay of threat that indicated the speaker didn’t like Bob very much.

      With her face still pressed against the car, Harper couldn’t see anything.

      But she knew that voice.

      ‘Well, Detective.’ Bob sounded defensive. ‘This reporter’s trespassing on the crime scene and refusing to obey orders. I’m arresting her for disorderly conduct.’

      ‘You are fully within your rights to do that, Bob,’ the other voice said. ‘She’s a handful, all right. But I gotta say the chief won’t like it. Her publisher will give him a hard time. They could sue the force for illegal arrest.’

      ‘She ignored an order.’ Bob sounded less confident now.

      ‘I hear you, but if you ask me, it’s not worth the hassle,’ the voice said. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t you let her go. I’ll keep an eye on her. If she causes any trouble, I’ll take her in myself. Save you the paperwork. We got a deal?’

      Harper twisted her neck, trying to see what was happening, but Bob’s meaty hand still held her head against the patrol car.

      ‘I guess so.’ Bob gave in reluctantly. ‘You want me to cuff her?’

      ‘No,’ the detective said, a hint of ice in his voice now. ‘I think I can handle her.’

      ‘If you say so.’

      Slowly, Bob relinquished his hold on Harper’s head and hands.

      Freed, she spun around, and looked straight into the calm blue eyes of Detective Luke Walker.

       Chapter Seven

      ‘Thanks, Bob,’ Luke said, his eyes still on Harper. ‘You can get back to work now.’

      Seeing that his game was over, Bob trundled away with slow reluctance.

      Pinioned in Luke’s gaze, Harper was so flustered she couldn’t think of anything to say.

      It had been nearly a year since the two of them last spoke. And more than a year since the last time they slept together.

      ‘What an idiot,’ she managed to sputter, finally.

      ‘I think it’s fair to say nobody’s ever accused Bob Kowalski of being smart,’ Luke agreed.

      He looked annoyingly good.

      His hair was cropped short, and his chiseled jaw clean-shaven. Only the suit was wrong. She’d rarely seen him in anything but jeans before.

      And he’d just seen her nearly arrested.

      All she could think of to do, was to fume.

      ‘Well, he’s gone too far,’ she said. ‘He had no right to do that. I’m filing a complaint this time. This has got to stop.’

      Luke didn’t reply. Instead, he studied her, a faint smile on his face.

      ‘What?’ she asked, touching her face self-consciously.

      ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Seeing you like this – so pissed off. I just thought … Some things never change.’

      Harper didn’t know how to reply to that.

      It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to meet when her makeup and hair were perfect, and she was wearing a carefully chosen outfit. They’d go out for coffee and he’d be sorry he dumped her.

      That was how she’d imagined this moment for the last year.

      In Harper’s dream meeting, they talked easily. Forgave each other for the sins of the past. And agreed to try again.

      But then, nothing about their relationship had ever been dreamlike.

      Their brief, passionate affair had started when she was investigating a murder and ended when she broke into the records room at police headquarters. Luke only found out about it after she got caught.

      Tainted by his connection to her, he’d felt betrayed.

      He’d walked away and, as far as she could tell, never looked back.

      It had been easy not to run into each other, even by accident. He worked the late shift. She was going home when he clocked on. So, what was he doing here now?

      ‘I thought you were still on the graveyard shift,’ she said.

      ‘I’m moving to evenings,’ he said. ‘Bit of a promotion.’

      Their eyes met and held. The moment felt weighted down with all their history. Harper wondered if he regretted it all as much as she did.

      But there was no way she’d ever ask.

      Luke cleared his throat.

      ‘This case is something else,’ he said, turning to look at where Shepherd was now being bundled into the back of a police car. ‘Did someone tell me you knew the victim?’

      ‘Only a little,’ she said. ‘The dead girl worked with my friend Bonnie at the Library Bar.’

      ‘Oh yeah. I’d forgotten you had a friend who worked there,’ he said. ‘You ever meet this guy?’

      He pointed at Wilson, who was now in the car and still pleading his innocence through the glass.

      Harper shrugged. ‘A couple of times. I sure didn’t know he had any of this in him. He always seemed like a nice guy.’

      ‘He doesn’t seem so nice now.’ Luke’s tone was dry.

      He glanced at his watch. ‘Well, I better get a move on. My part in this little drama’s about to kick off.’

      Harper’s eyebrows winged up. ‘You’re interviewing Shepherd? Isn’t this Daltrey’s case?’

      ‘I’m partnering with her on it,’ he told her, pulling his keys from his pocket.

      Harper kept her expression neutral but her mind was racing. If Luke took on this case, they’d see each other all the time.

      ‘Well, for what it’s worth, Bonnie swears he doesn’t have it in him,’ she said.

      ‘We’ll see.’ He gave her that slow, serious smile she remembered so well. ‘It was good running into you, Harper.’

      ‘Right back at you,’ she said, like it was no big deal. ‘Good luck with the new shift.’

      He hesitated for a second, as if there was something else he wanted to tell her.

      But then, lifting one hand in silent farewell, he turned and walked away with that easy, long-legged stride she knew she would always be able to pick out of a crowd of thousands.

      It was one in the morning before Harper finally finished work and headed home.

      Almost twenty-four hours had passed since she first heard about the body on River Street. Her head felt light from exhaustion. She gripped the wheel hard, eyes fixed on the blurring road.

      All the way, she kept going over that meeting with Luke. Thinking of the things she should have said.

      When