Page 82 of Jack

She turned her computer around. “She posted about the podcast on Instagram earlier tonight.” Clicking on the feed from the podcast page, Harper opened her IG page.

Don’t miss tonight’s podcast with a surprise guest! This changes everything!

“She could have scheduled this before she went missing,” Harper said.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe.”

“You still don’t think she’s really missing.” Something sparked in her eyes.

He held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. I think it’s pretty clear that something isn’t right. I just want to keep an open mind.”

“You’re the one who said she had a death threat.”

He blinked at her, then stood up. “Since when am I the bad guy here? I’ve been traipsing all over the county for the past two days. I’m in, okay?”

His own words pinged through him.

“I’m in.”

Aw. Next thing he’d be making promises.

She studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m just . . . worried.”

He turned his chair around, sank back into it. “And your brain is playing what-ifs.”

She nodded grimly.

“Sort those what-ifs into scenarios. Possibilities. Then you’ll start thinking like me.”

“Lots of what-iffing going on up there?” She pointed to his head.

“It’s chaos. And loud. Especially when I’m on a hunt.”

“But you like it.”

He gave it a moment. “Yes. I do. Just because I get a reward for finding someone doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You just don’t want anyone to depend on you.” She arched an eyebrow.

He had said that, hadn’t he? “I don’t like letting people down.” His words emerged soft, and he looked away, toward the dark window.

The one that reflected the sadness in her expression.

He turned back to her. “It was my fault that Boo nearly died out there.”

She frowned. “What?”

“I was supposed to stay with her. Keep up with her. But I was mad that she kept running ahead, so . . .” He blew out a breath. “If we hadn’t found her, I don’t think my dad would have ever forgiven me.”

“That doesn’t sound like your dad.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear him after we found her. He took me apart.”

“I’ve never heard your dad shout.”

“Oh no. He gets lethally quiet. And it’s scary. But more, I was fourteen, the oldest, and he said that as the oldest, I needed to take my responsibility seriously. That my siblings were depending on me.”

He swallowed, shook his head. “And maybe it went to my head. I thought—okay. I’m not going to screw this up. I’m going to protect them all.”