Then she shook her head.
Welden tried again.
"Did you see Lily?"
No response.
"Do you know where Lily is?"
Harper reached out and gripped Cole's vest.
"I told him."
Welden glanced up.
Harper tightened her fingers.
"I only told him."
Welden stood.
"Mr. Harrington, can I talk to you for a second?"
Cole followed her several yards away.
"Has she given you anything specific?" Welden asked.
"Not yet."
"A location?"
"No."
"Vehicle?"
"Not yet."
Welden exhaled with frustration.
"Then we don't have anything."
"She said she knows where Lily is."
"Children say things."
Cole's jaw tightened.
"This one isn't making it up."
"You cannot know that."
"No, but I know what scared looks like."
Welden crossed her arms.
"And what exactly qualifies you to make that determination?"
Cole looked at her for several seconds.
There were many answers he could have given.
He could have told her about his daughter.
He could have told her about years spent around families who had been broken.
He could have told her that his friend Ray grew up in foster homes and had taught every man in Iron Ridge what silence sometimes looked like in children.
Instead Cole simply said, "Life."
Welden's expression did not change.
Cole continued.
"I know what you see when you look at me."
"This isn't about that."
"It always is."
"Mr. Harrington."
"Right now that girl chose me. Not you. Not whoever came down Birch Lane Tuesday. Not her teacher. Not whoever else has been asking questions. Me."
Welden glanced toward Harper.
"She needs to talk to law enforcement."
"Then let her talk through me."
Welden stared at Cole.
He stared back.
A long silence passed.
Neither of them liked the arrangement.
Both understood they did not have time to care.
Finally Welden nodded.
"Fine."
Cole waited.
"You stay with her. You ask. Everything she says comes directly to me."
"Agreed."
"No calling your club with details."
Cole frowned.
"Frank already knows I'm here."
"I mean no side missions. No riders going onto private property. No vigilante nonsense."
Cole's eyes hardened.
"You think that's what we do?"
"I don't know what you do."
"Then maybe don't decide before finding out."
Welden held his gaze.
For an instant, both recognized the conversation was about something larger than Lily.
Then Welden looked away.
"Just get her talking."
Cole returned to the curb.
He sat.
He did not immediately ask Harper anything.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then two.
The hot concrete pressed through his jeans.
Welden remained nearby.
She looked impatient, but said nothing.
Cole remembered his father.
Thomas Harrington had been a farrier outside Knoxville.
He spent his life around horses and people who thought they understood horses.
When Cole was twelve, he watched his father spend almost an hour standing inside a paddock without touching a frightened mare.
Cole had asked why.
His father replied, "Trust isn't a door you push open."
Cole remembered laughing.
Thomas continued.
"It opens toward you. If you keep pushing, you'll hold it shut. Stand still long enough, and sometimes it'll swing."
Now Cole sat beside Harper.
And waited.
Finally Harper spoke.