“Call me Harlow. And…um…” She wasn’t sure how much to tell the detective. Her father was consorting with criminals, had stolen a valuable collectible.

“If we find out anything, we’ll let you know,” Easton said smoothly.

Hunt sighed, a resigned look on his rugged face. “How much trouble is Carlson in?”

“We’ll contact you when we know more.”

“Is Vander involved?”

“Vander is involved in a lot of things,” Easton replied.

Hunt stared at the ceiling. “Fuck. Sorry, Harlow.” The detective pinned Easton with a glare. “This is some fucked-up situation where you keep me in the dark, then pull me in to clean up your mess.”

“When a crime has been committed that we need to report, we’ll call you. Like we always do.”

“You owe me, Norcross.”

“I’ll buy you a beer.”

Hunt snorted. “I want a case of something old, Scottish, and expensive.” His gaze turned serious. “Call me if you need me.”

Easton nodded. “Thanks, Hunt.”

“The uniforms are going to board up the broken window.”

“Thank you,” Harlow said.

“Let’s go.” Easton urged her out of the office, and to the front door.

In the car, she twisted her hands together. “We had to lie to a police detective.”

“Oh, Hunt was very aware of that. He’s used to us…skirting some of the rules.”

“You did it to protect my dad.”

“Your father isn’t a drug kingpin or murderer, Harlow. He got in over his head and he’s floundering. This will all be over soon.”

Her cell phone rang. Mom was on the screen. “Mom?”

“Harlow!” Her mom’s voice was almost a screech. “I got a message from the police. The house was broken into. Your father isn’t answering again.”

Harlow pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s fine, Mom. I just left the house, and met with the police.”

“Oh, my gosh. What’s happening?”

“The window on the back door was broken, but that’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Where’s your father?”

“He’s busy with some work deal. You know how he is.”

“He works too hard.”

Harlow bit her lip. “And he just wants you to relax.”

“I do have a Bikram yoga class starting soon.”

“Go, balance your chakras.”

“I hear that sarcasm, Harlow Maree.”

Harlow smiled. Her mom could be funny and sweet when she wasn’t being anxious and paranoid. “I like yoga too, Mom, just not as much as you do.”

“You’re sure everything’s fine?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Harlow kept her tone as breezy as she could manage. She said goodbye and shoved the phone back into her handbag. Then she let out a long breath.

“You should tell her,” Easton said.

“No.” Harlow shook her head. “Mom’s…delicate. She doesn’t deal well with stress. We shield her.”