“Do you think I can ever be normal?” She turned her head and saw that he was squinting off into the distance, in the direction of Helena Springs. Civilization.
“Of course you can be normal, Jak. You already are normal. It would be an adjustment to live among people, to . . . adapt to society, but I don’t think it would take you long.”
He looked at her, his expression full of vulnerability. He could school his expression if he wanted to, but lord, when he didn’t attempt to, he was such an open book, each thought skating so transparently across his handsome features. “You believe in me.”
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “I believe in you.”
“I believe in you too.”
She laughed and he smiled, as though the sound brought him joy. Truly though, his words made her feel powerful. He had both internal and external scars to contend with, and she did too. But they would both adjust, both overcome, both thrive. In that moment she believed it with every fiber of her being.
Jak’s smile faded and she saw worry in his eyes. “I don’t know where to start.”
“I’ll help you.” Her mind spun. He’d need an ID first. She’d bet Agent Gallagher would be able to help with that. He’d need . . . She cut off her cluttered thoughts. He’d need help, guidance, yes, and she’d have to consider how big a role she should play in that, but in any case, she could point him in the right direction. She had faith that he could take it from there. She’d meant it when she’d said she believed in him. “I’ll help you help yourself. You can do anything once you know where to start.”
That same worry and vulnerability appeared in his expression.
Harper stopped, bending and retrieving a long twig on top of the crust of snow. She formed it into a circle and then gestured for Jak to bend. He did, a look of curiosity on his face, his gaze intent. Their breath mingled, chemistry sizzled the way it simply did whenever they were close that way, and she placed the makeshift crown upon his head. “There,” she said, a slight hitch in her voice. “I, Harper Ward, appoint you King of your Own Destiny from this day forward. May you rule your subject with dignity,
kindness, and . . . patience.”
He stood to his full height and then removed the crown from his head, placing it on hers. “And I, Jak, appoint you Queen of your Own Destiny from this day forward. Be good to your subject.” He smiled a bit bashfully and Harper laughed as he placed the “crown” upon her head.
She took his hand in hers again, and they walked through the snowy forest hand in hand. She had no idea what would be in their future. In his. In hers. But she’d never felt so . . . embraced. And in that moment, with the white of winter surrounding them, she didn’t feel the cold. Because neither Harper nor Jak were alone to face whatever came next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mark lifted the ornate gold knocker and rapped at the massive carved door, glancing back at the security gate he’d driven through, the name of the estate spelled out in scrolled letters above: Thornland. The door opened and a man in a butler’s uniform stood before him. He inclined his head. “Sir, please enter. Mr. Fairbanks is waiting for you in the parlor.”
Mark stepped inside, feeling as though he’d just entered a game of Clue, and Miss Scarlet was going to glide down the grand, curved staircase at any moment with a candlestick.
The butler led the way, extending his arm toward another grand door that Mark guessed led to the parlor where the owner of this estate and the many acres of surrounding ranch land lived. He’d called the contact number from the website the woman at the library had visited, and spoken to Halston Fairbanks’s secretary. He’d been out of the office at the time, but Mark had received a call back a few hours later, saying Mr. Fairbanks could meet with him at his home outside Missoula.
“Thank you,” he said to the butler as he entered the room. An older man was standing at a bar cart near the window and he turned as the door clicked shut behind Mark.
“Mr. Fairbanks,” Mark said, walking to the tall, broad-shouldered, older gentleman and extending his hand. “Agent Mark Gallagher. Thank you for seeing me.”
They shook, Mr. Fairbanks’s grip strong, his eyes assessing. “Agent Gallagher.”
“Please call me Mark.”
Mr. Fairbanks nodded as he turned, moving back to the bar cart. “Call me Halston and you’ve got a deal. I was just pouring myself a drink. It’s about happy hour, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled, large, straight white teeth flashing. “Join me?”
“No, sir, thank you.” It was only four o’clock and Mark didn’t drink on the job, but he figured this man was rich enough to designate happy hour to whatever time he chose.
“How long has your family lived here at Thornland?” Mark asked, as he heard ice dropping into a glass.
“It’s been in the Fairbanks family for four generations now. Almost one million acres of prime Montana land that stretches over six counties.” Mark knew that part because he’d looked it up before coming out there. He also knew that the Fairbanks family had earned their substantial wealth as one of the top ten lumber companies in the United States. The current CEO of Fairbanks Lumber turned, smiling, and swirling a crystal glass of amber liquid. “But I’m sure you’re not here to discuss Thornland. What is it I can do for you, Agent?” He inclined his head to a seating group and Mark took a seat in one of the blue velvet chairs, Halston sitting across from him as he took a sip from his glass.
“Mr.—Halston, I’m here because a woman was found dead in Helena Springs a little over two weeks ago, and I have reason to believe she contacted your office the day before she died.”
“Died?”
“Yes, sir.”
Halston Fairbanks regarded Mark over the rim of his glass, taking another small sip and then setting his glass aside. He let out a sigh. “Emily Barton.”
Mark was caught by surprise. “We don’t know the victim’s name yet. We recovered some prints but so far—”