Cole
Harper reached for the phone.
I stopped her before she could open the first conversation.
“We make copies of everything before touching anything.”
Her eyes flashed. “Those are my messages.”
“The phone isn’t yours.”
“It isn’t Natalie’s either.”
“Legally, it probably is.”
“Of course.”
The bitterness in her voice filled the bay.
Marcus found a charging cable and connected the phone to the station computer. While he copied the files, Harper stood beside Gavin’s locker with her arms wrapped around herself.
She looked small in the empty bay.
I hated noticing that.
“Done,” Marcus said.
Harper took the phone before I could.
She opened the conversation under her name.
Months of messages filled the screen.
Some were ordinary.
Photographs of coffee. Complaints about work. Plans
