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surprise wasn’t completely unexpected. It’d been a while. But it was
     a little offensive.
    “Yeah. She just showed up. Maybe those ads we’re running on late-night radio are working.”
    “Possibly, but I still think they’d work even better if they were in English. Not
     many people speak Japanese around here.”
    “Honestly, Cook, you act like I don’t even want any new clients.”
    She reached over and snatched the paper out of my hands. “I wonder where I got that
     idea from.”
    With a confounded shrug, I glanced behind me to make sure Harper wasn’t at the door;
     then I spoke softly to Cook. “I need you to find out everything you can about her.
     I need family members, work and volunteer history, parking tickets, whatever you can
     get.”
    “You got it. Where are you going now?” she asked as I headed for the door.
    “Harper believes someone is trying to kill her, so I’m taking her to the safe house.”
    “Sounds like a plan.” After the door clicked closed, she yelled out, “We have a safe
     house?”

 
    3
    Welcome back.
    I see the assassins have failed.
    —T-SHIRT
    After a battle of epic proportions, where my legs wanted to go one way while my head
     told them to go another, I strode with Harper past my dad’s bar and down the alley
     toward our makeshift safe house. I couldn’t help but scan the terrain like a soldier
     in hostile territory. Oddly enough, Harper did the same thing. We looked like tweakers
     as we passed businesses, college students, and the occasional homeless person.
    I decided to try to lighten the mood. “So, what did you always want to be when you
     grew up?” I asked Harper.
    She walked beside me, arms crossed at chest, head down, and fought to smile.
    “It’s just up here,” I said, saving her from having to respond. “Pari’s a saint. Only
     with full sleeves and a bad attitude. Other than that, you can totally count on her.
     Mostly for questionable advice, but we all have to be good at something, right?”
    “Do you think you’ll catch him?” She couldn’t quite wrap her head around anything
     other than her immediate danger. Clearly she did not suffer from ADD.
    “I’m going to do my best, hon. Cross my heart.”
    “I’m so tired of feeling helpless. Guess I should’ve taken karate or something, huh?”
    I liked her thought process, but even martial arts didn’t guarantee a long and prosperous
     life. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, Harper. There are crazy people out there.
     People you can’t reason with or even begin to understand without being a licensed
     psychotherapist. There’s no telling what set this guy off.”
    She nodded, acceding to my expertise on crazy people. I grew up with one in the form
     of Denise Davidson, the stepmother from hell. She could teach the son of Satan a thing
     or two.
    “Here it is,” I said, pointing to a screen door. Remnants of red paint framed the
     wood around the back entrance.
    Harper stopped and looked around the alley. We were at the back entrance of a seedy
     tattoo parlor. Her confidence in me seemed to wane a bit.
    “It’s totally safe. I promise.”
    After a hesitant nod, she said, “Okay. I trust you.”
    Maybe she really was crazy. “And Pari has a really cute apprentice.”
    A shy grin spread across her face. She seemed so innocent and unworldly, yet she was
     simply beautiful. I wondered what her life had been like. Hopefully, I’d find out
     as the case went on.
    “A teacher.”
    I was just about to open the door when she’d spoken. “I’m sorry?”
    “A teacher. You asked me what I’d always wanted to be. A teacher.”
    I gave her my full attention. “Why didn’t you become one?”
    She shrugged and looked elsewhere. “My mother didn’t approve. She wanted me to be
     a doctor or a lawyer.”
    While I couldn’t imagine her as a lawyer, I could definitely see her as a doctor.
     She seemed the nurturing type. Then again, doctors weren’t all that nurturing. Maybe
     a