Page 86 of Jack

“Conrad’s here,” his father said, looking up at the porch.

Indeed, his brother, dressed in a black parka and jeans, came down the stairs to the truck. He came over to the driver’s side, and his dad rolled down the window. “Hey. You just get here?”

“Came in early this morning instead of driving in last night.” Conrad wore a grim expression and glanced over at Jack. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh . . . well, I’m here for a wedding. How about you?”

Conrad rolled his eyes. “Dude. Did the sheriff not call you? I drove through town, and your school bus . . . Sorry, man, but it’s incinerated.”

* * *

Today, she would find Penelope.

Harper transferred the photographs she’d dug up of Holden Walsh, Kyle Brunley, and Tommy Fadden to her phone and closed her computer.

She hoped Jack was up—she wanted to track down Kyle Brunley and talk to him. According to her search, he lived in Bloomington and worked for a law firm in downtown Minneapolis. Handsome guy, brown hair, grew up with Sarah Livingston.

She’d found clips of him speaking at their high school graduation. He matched the caller’s voice on the podcast; she knew it in her gut.

Jack would flip.See,she could find people too.

Her words from last night kept thrumming through her.“You’re not lost anymore, Jack Kingston. You’re right back where you’re supposed to be. So stop running.”

Wow,she didn’t known where that had come from, but hello. She’d kissed Jack Kingston. Again. Only this time, he hadn’t run.

Yet.

No.She’d seen the look on his face when she’d left him. Shaken, maybe, but also intrigued, those blue eyes following her.

Intrigued was good for a man who liked solving mysteries.

She’d showered, dried her hair, and now headed downstairs in her black pants and a bulky blue sweater. Conrad and Stein stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, nursing coffee as she came in.

Clearly, she’d interrupted their conversation, because they both cleared their throats and summoned up smiles. “Morning, Bee,” Stein said.

“Harper,” Conrad corrected. Winked. It didn’t have the same effect as a wink from Jack, but a familial warmth swept through her. He must have gotten in last night, after she’d gone to bed.

She’d spent way too much time thinking about Jack, of course, and the way he’d looked at her when she’d suggested he might be searching for himself.

Sort of made her wonder if they all were hunting for pieces of themselves, really. Like Penny and her podcast. And Boo, when she’d signed up for a reality show after a dare from Jack. And maybe even her mother, remodeling her home, finally.

Harper didn’t have a clue what she might be looking for. Coffee, maybe. She headed for the machine. “Is Jack up yet?” She picked up the pot, grabbed a mug.

Silence and she turned. “What?”

Conrad stared at his mug. Steinbeck drew a grim line with his mouth.

“Sheesh. You act like he left town or . . .” She set the coffeepot down. “Did he leave town?”

“Nope,” Conrad said.

“Gonna be hard to do,” Stein added.

She frowned. “I don’t?—”

“His schoolie was torched last night,” Stein said.

The words dropped through her, hollowed her. “What?”