A Beautiful Corpse

She stretched the tight knots in her shoulders and looked around blearily. The newsroom had emptied without her even noticing. Through the tall windows, the last rays of the sun were fading to rose and gold as she glanced at her watch, her brow creasing.

She’d been so busy there’d been no time even to check in on Bonnie.

She grabbed her phone.

Bonnie answered on the first ring.

‘Harper! You sneaked out while I was asleep, like a bad date.’

‘Hey.’ Harper fought a yawn. ‘You needed your sleep.’

‘If I’d been conscious I would have thanked you for looking out for me,’ Bonnie said. ‘I’m sorry I lost it when you were working.’

‘Don’t apologize. It was a shock seeing her there.’

‘I still can’t believe it.’ Bonnie sounded somber.

Harper hated to give her more bad news – but she had to know.

‘Have you been following the case? Do you know what’s happening?’

‘I heard about Wilson, if that’s what you mean.’ Bonnie let out a long breath. ‘It doesn’t make sense, Harper. He’s such a nice guy.’

Harper made a dismissive gesture. ‘Nice guys kill, too.’

That came out more sharply than she’d intended.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, instantly contrite. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘I’ll bet it has,’ Bonnie said. ‘Listen, Fitz has closed the bar for a couple of days. So, I’m around if you need me.’

‘I spoke to him today,’ Harper told her. ‘He was incredibly drunk.’

‘Yeah …’ Bonnie sighed. ‘He sounded sloshed when he called. I don’t blame him. Wouldn’t mind being drunk myself right now. I just wish I understood what the hell Naomi was doing down on River Street. When she left the bar, she said she was going home. I’ve been thinking about it all day. The way she left in a big hurry. Like she was late for something. What could she be late for in the middle of the night?’

This sounded strikingly similar to the story Fitz had told her about another night when Naomi left early, in a rush.

Harper straightened. ‘Did she say anything to you when she left? Was she meeting Wilson Shepherd?’

‘All she said was she needed to go right away; something had come up. She was really urgent about it.’ She paused. ‘The only thing was, thinking back, it seems to me that … I don’t know. Something didn’t feel right.’

‘What do you mean?’ Harper picked up a pen.

‘Maybe I’m adding this to my memories because I know what happened later,’ Bonnie cautioned, ‘but she seemed jittery. Like, she was trying to be normal but she was nervous. Almost like she was scared of something.’

Her words mirrored Fitz’s, precisely.

‘You know, Fitz told me a similar story earlier today. The same thing – Naomi leaving on a busy night, without warning. Being scared. He said it happened a few weeks ago. Do you remember that?’

‘No.’ Bonnie sounded surprised. ‘I must not have worked that night. He didn’t mention it to me.’

‘He said he more or less forgot about it after that night. But something was going on in Naomi’s life. Someone scared her. And they scared her enough that she kept it to herself.’

Harper paused, the pen hovering above a blank sheet of paper.

‘Did she ever tell you she was afraid of Wilson? Did they fight?’

‘She never said anything like that,’ Bonnie said. ‘I always thought they were happy. But, like I said last night to that detective, Wilson hasn’t been around much lately. I thought they were taking a break because school and work were so busy.’

Harper considered this. ‘Maybe Wilson didn’t want to take a break.’

‘You think he was mad enough about a break to kill the girl he loved?’ Bonnie was skeptical.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time it happened.’

‘I just don’t see it,’ Bonnie said. ‘He’s not the type.’

‘They’re all the type.’

‘God, Harper. You’re so cynical,’ Bonnie chided. ‘This is why you don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘This is why I’m still alive,’ Harper replied without missing a beat.

As she spoke, she wrote one word in her notebook and underlined it: Motive.

‘The thing is, if it wasn’t Wilson, who was it?’ she asked. ‘There’s no way she was caught up in drugs or gangs, is there?’

Bonnie gave a husky laugh. ‘Oh, hell no, Harper. Naomi was a Girl Scout. I could hardly get a beer down her.’

Dropping the pen, Harper rubbed her forehead.

It just didn’t make sense. Girl Scouts did not go to River Street at two in the morning to get themselves shot.

It was becoming clearer that Naomi had secrets. She’d kept them well. And somehow it had gotten her killed.

‘Look,’ Harper said, ‘if you think of anything else, let me know.’

‘I will,’ Bonnie promised, adding as an afterthought, ‘Oh, God, I almost forgot to mention. I went to see Naomi’s dad. He wants to talk to you.’

Harper nearly dropped the phone.

‘You met her father? I’ve been trying to reach him all day.’

‘Yeah, I went to his house to give him my condolences. I couldn’t reach him on the phone,’ Bonnie said. ‘His address was in our records at the bar – Naomi still had her pay slips sent there. He told me he turned his phone off because it won’t stop ringing.’

Harper didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d called Jerrod Scott at least five times today without success. And Bonnie had just walked right in.

‘What’d he say?’ She couldn’t keep the eagerness out of her voice.