Page 117 of Archer

Then the crowd erupted, the sound swept across the water, and the comment feed caught fire.

Archer

She was going to be a massive star.

I’d reviewed her performance footage as part of the threat assessment. I’d cataloged the streaming numbers and sold-out venues, and I’d heard her sing often in the past couple of weeks. But nothing had prepared me for standing three feet away while she played for a crowd.

She belted the words, and the entire collective held its breath. A woman at the edge of the crowd pressed both hands to her sternum. One of the deputies had stopped pretending to work and just stood there, captivated, arms hanging loosely at his sides.

Harper Lawson was a fucking sensation.

My chest swelled with pride for knowing her, and with the sheer joy radiating from every inch of her. Then, my earpiece crackled.

“He’s watching,” Colton said. “HarperFan1 has been active on the stream for four minutes. Same IP signature as the account he used last week. He’s on a mobile connection, so he’s not at a fixed location, but he’s definitely watching.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t look toward Colton. My gaze streamed methodically across the watercraft anchored offshore, then back to the dock perimeter, then to the shore access path.

Nothing of note.

“Nash.” I kept my voice below the crowd noise.

“Road’s clean.” The sheriff’s voice was equally flat. “A few late-arriving vehicles in the area, but no sign of Webb.”

“Knox?”

“Clear on the south approach.” His voice was measured and watchful. “If he’s here on land, I don’t see him.”

“Coast Guard?”

“Two vessels running dark about two hundred out,” Colton confirmed. “Third one’s at the boat ramp. Webb’s not crossing that water tonight without notice.”

He was watching, then. From somewhere we couldn’t reach him.

The frustration settled in my gut, cold and dense. I’d built every contingency I could think of. The man was adaptable. Careful in his own way, even through the lens of delusion.

I didn’t want him to make a move.

But I needed him to show his face.

Harper strummed and crooned, traveling gracefully into the final verse, and the sound of her voice pulled me back.

I let myself look at her, appreciate her, as the last rays of the sun caught in her hair and reflected on her skin. She let her eyes close, lost in the moment, at one with her music.

Every single terrifying and heartbreaking thing she’d been through in the past two weeks had been poured into that song, and she was laying herself bare for the world.

I was going to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve her.

If she’d let me.

“He’s still on the stream,” Colton said through the earpiece. “Wherever he is, he’s stationary, and he’s eating up every second of this.”

The final chord rang out over the water.

The crowd erupted. Harper pulled her guitar against her chest, and for one unguarded moment, she just smiled.

Chapter 39

Harper