“I’ll be right outside,” Luka said.
The Reverend beckoned Harper to his side. He placed both his hands over hers, his lips moving in silent prayer. “I only need to say one thing to you,” he said when he looked up. “All your life I’ve tried to teach you right from wrong. And despite my being blind to what was right, you still made the correct choice. You make me proud. I want you to know that. Whatever happens, you make me proud.”
Harper’s words vanished, the way they always had when she was a little girl, waiting for the Reverend’s judgment. So instead, she gave her father a hug.
“Go now, do your job. It suits you,” he told her as he released her. She smiled, nodded, and obeyed him. But as she left him behind, her step felt lighter, her shoulders broader, her spine straighter.
Luka and Harper still had one final stop: Macy’s room. This time Luka gave Harper the lead. She squared her shoulders, tapped her bag where she’d printed out everything in preparation, then went in, Luka following behind her.
Macy was pale, her cheeks hollowed out, hair matted with sweat, but the doctors had cleared her for the interview. When she saw Harper, a wistful smile actually crossed her face, as if Harper was the only friend she had left, but even Macy knew that was a fantasy. Harper wasn’t here as a friend.
Still, Macy slid to one side and patted the bed for Harper to sit as Harper took her statement. The biggest difference this time was that, unlike the Reverend, Macy was under arrest, although she waived her Miranda rights without hesitation. Harper took that as a good sign as they began their dance, circling the unspoken, painful truth.
“Tell me about Lily,” Harper started. “You two were close?”
“Neither of us had family, you know. Not really. Guess we were each other’s family. She used to say I was the sister she never had. Used to say…” Her voice drifted off.
Harper had planned to lay out her case, but instead took another tack. “Losing family, someone you’re that close to—it’s difficult. I’m still trying to reach Lily’s family, let them know she’s gone. Can you tell me anything about them?”
Macy sniffed. “Her mom kicked Lily out after she got pregnant.”
“Lily has a child?”
“Her stepdad’s. She was only fifteen, but her mom didn’t believe her, kicked her out instead.”
“Where’s the baby now?”
“Lily’s aunt. On her dad’s side. Hagerstown, I think. Lily said she tried to make it work—go back to school, take care of the baby, but it was all too much and she started using, then working the streets for money, so she left. Said she’d rather die than let her baby girl see her mom let her down like that, so she came up here for a fresh start.” Macy swiped tears from her cheeks. “You gonna go tell her aunt she’s gone? Don’t bother with her mom, she’s still with the bastard. But Lily’s aunt and her baby girl, they need to know.”
“What’s the aunt’s name? Got any contact info?”
“Lilian. Lily was named after her. That’s all I know. But it will be in Lily’s phone.”
Harper nodded, appreciating that Macy was inching toward the truth that Harper already knew. She waited a beat, then asked, “Lily’s little girl—”
“Grace. Gracie is her name. She turned two last month. Lily showed me a picture.” Macy closed her eyes. For a moment Harper thought she’d drifted back to sleep but then more tears seeped out from under her eyelashes. “Two. That’s too young to remember anything, right?” She opened her eyes and stared at Harper, desperate for a lie. “I mean, she’ll never know what her mom was like, what happened—”
“She might not remember, but she’ll still know. That kind of pain, it stays with you, shapes your whole life.” Harper thought of her own mother—not Rachel, her biological mother. Maybe it was time to get answers to the questions that had haunted her all her life?
“Yeah, you’re right,” Macy said, pulling Harper’s attention back to the interview. “I went into foster care after my folks OD’d when I was only a baby, just crawling, but sometimes when I close my eyes, it’s like they’re here with me.” A sob escaped her, but she cleared her throat and swiped at her cheeks. “But look at me. I mean, she’ll be all right, Gracie will. She’ll be fine.” She turned a pleading look on Harper. “Right?”
“It’ll be hard.” Harper glanced at Luka, who gave her an encouraging nod. Time to apply a little pressure. “Harder still if she never knows the truth about how Lily died.”
Macy pulled the sheet tighter around her, her fingers twisting the fabric into tight knots. Harper continued, “Macy, you know we inventoried your belongings. We found the cash, the drugs—enough meth and fentanyl to charge you with intent to distribute. And we have Lily’s necklace. The one you gave Darius after you bailed him out. We’ll find her prints and DNA along with yours on it. And we found two phones. Yours and Lily’s.” She rested a hand over Macy’s trembling ones. “Can you tell me what happened, Macy? Why’d you kill Lily?”
Silence for a long moment. Had she pressed too hard, too fast? Harper wondered. Was Macy about to invoke her Miranda rights? Had she blown her last chance at getting a confession?
But then Macy nodded, her head bobbing as she sobbed. “I called, told her I wanted to get clean, that I was ready for rehab. We’d gone once before—she stuck with it, got her life back, had a job, was getting her GED, had her aunt and Gracie. Her life was so good. But I quit, started using again and my life was—”
She cleared her throat and started again. “Lily, she was like my sister. My only family. When I called and asked her
