Gena Showalter - Haunted

To find out there was a connection between Topper, a dirt-bag scum with evil in his veins, and Harper, a delicate, fragile little thing with knees of iron … he didn’t like that. At all. But to learn that she’d been missing, to now know beyond any doubt that something had happened to her, was even worse.

He brought her painting to the forefront of his mind. The male Harper was bringing to life certainly fit Topper’s body type, he realized now. Average height, slim build, deceptively gentle-looking hands.

“Where was Harper found?” he rasped. “When? And where had she been?”

“Oh, hmm.” Bright glanced at the screen. “She wasn’t found. At least, nothing has been entered into the system.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“The case is still open.”

Irritation laced with anger flooded him, and he popped his jaw. Why hadn’t Lana reported her as found? Why hadn’t Harper come forward? Fear that Topper would find her again? But then, that would mean she remembered him, if he was truly the one responsible, and it was clear that she didn’t.

Levi replayed his new memory of the night he’d come face-to-face with Topper. Topper had been standing beside …

what? All he could picture were rivers of blood. Lots and lots of blood, flowing this way and that way and all around. Had there been any secret rooms? Someplace Harper could have been stashed, bound and helpless, forced to watch? Someplace she could have accidently stumbled upon and hidden?

A cage flashed through his mind.

A cage?

“Was there a cage in Topper’s home?” he asked. “Actually, don’t tell me. Just give me the crime scene photos.” He’d never seen them.

“You know I can’t do that,” Bright said sternly.

“All I want is a glance at them.” He could compare them with Harper’s painting.

A sigh met his words. “I’ve always been a sucker. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. So how’s our man Topper doing?”

Bright rolled his shoulders, easing tension. “He recovered from the injuries you gave him and is now locked up without bail, awaiting trial. We managed to find evidence of his crimes after his arrest.”

Meaning, everything they’d found the day they’d arrested him had been thrown out because of Levi and they’d needed something new. And thanks be to God, they’d gotten it. Levi had read what had been fed to the media and knew there was more, but he wasn’t going to ask. Yet.

Don’t make everything a battle, son, his dad told him once. He didn’t remember this on his own. He’d seen a home video of the two of them together. You do, and you’ll never win ‘em all.

“You got anything else on Harper?” he asked.

“A bit.” Bright gave the computer screen another read. “The night of her disappearance, the art showing had wound down and only the owner remained in the building when she left, but he claims he was counting receipts in the back room and heard nothing unusual.”

“Any connection between Topper and the owner?”

“Not that we’ve found.”

“Are there any suspects in Harper’s case? An ex-boyfriend with an ax to grind? A neighbor with a record? A stepdad with a grudge?”

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