Colton Christmas Protector (The Coltons of Texas #12)(18)
“Point taken. Just...give me a little leeway, a few minutes. Okay?” The look he sent her said he knew how hard that would be for her in light of Andrew’s death.
Her answering stare voiced her skepticism, impatience and irritation. But she swallowed a verbal reply. She didn’t trust her voice not to crack or sound harpy-shrill. She was wound too tight, had too many emotions churning inside her.
Her father’s duplicity. Andrew’s death. And her complicated feelings toward Reid. Anger and hurt and...attraction. Her stomach jumped and swooped crazily with the private admission. Admitting her continued physical interest in Reid was a big step. She had successfully quashed those feelings while she’d been married to Andrew. Had put them aside all those times her late husband’s partner had been in her home, sat at her dinner table and given her friendly hugs or shoulder squeezes. Shaking herself from her unsettling thoughts about Reid, she noticed a familiar sight out the window and sat straighter in the seat. “The park? Your urgent errand is the local playground?”
“You don’t like the park?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “I thought I remembered this place was one of your favorite places to unwind and blow off steam, even before Nicholas was born.”
Amazingly, her nerves seem to calm just seeing the tranquil pond and grassy fields of her favorite park. “I love this place. But I’m hardly in the mood to play on the swings or feed the ducks.”
He parked his truck near a boat ramp at the edge of the sparkling lake and cut the engine. “We’re not here to feed the ducks. I just couldn’t waste the opportunity of having you as a captive audience. We need to set the record straight.”
*
Reid saw Penelope stiffen, her jaw grow tight, and he raised a hand forestalling her arguments. “Before you say anything, I know I’m the last person you want to talk to and this is the topic you most want to avoid, but you need to know the truth. You need to know what really happened the day Andrew died and not the innuendo and half truths the media chose to disclose.”
“I’ve based my opinion of what happened on the police report and trusted witnesses within the department, not the news reports. Give me some credit!” she snapped, her eyes blazing.
“I’ll give you credit if you’ll do the same for me. Give me credit for being his friend, for being your friend.” She huffed her disagreement, but he didn’t let her dissuade him from his purpose. “Give me the benefit of just a moment’s doubt based on what you know about me. Based on the man you know I am. I’m not a murderer, Pen!”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he plowed on, cutting her off. “I loved Andrew like a brother. He was my partner, and that means something. We had each other’s backs. Because of the volatile situations we faced regularly together, we had a level of respect and trust most people can’t understand.”
He paused for a breath, and she only glared at him, arms crossed over her chest. Closed off. Resentful. Hurting. As much as he regretted losing his partner, he hated most the pain Pen had suffered since Andrew’s death. The circumstances of Andrew’s death made the loss all the more difficult for her. The questions and loose ends. The doubts and anger. He would do his part to put an end to all of that today.
He turned his attention to their surroundings, taking in the skeletal hardwoods and empty park benches. The rusted swings that swayed in the cold wind. A lone woman, bundled in a scarf and knit hat, walked her pug on the pathway near the lake. Otherwise the park was deserted. His law-enforcement training put him in the habit of paying attention to such details, be it a restaurant, a park or neighborhood street. Even after all these months off the force, he still kept a keen eye on his environment.
He drew a slow breath. “I know you’ve heard from others in the police department that Andrew and I argued that morning.”
Pen arched an eyebrow, her expression beyond peeved. “They said you nearly came to blows. That you made awful, ungrounded accusations against Andrew that could have ruined his career. Hell, ruined his reputation and his life!”
“We did argue,” he said, curling his hand around the steering wheel and battling down the sickness in his gut the memory stirred. “But we weren’t on the verge of a brawl. Our discussion got heated, got loud. He slammed a mug on the counter too hard, and it broke. But we weren’t about to throw punches. That was just bystanders projecting their interpretations on a discussion they didn’t understand.”
“Isn’t that a moot point now?” She grunted her disgust as she turned her gaze out the side window. “You’re splitting hairs over irrelevant details.”
“It’s not irrelevant, seeing as that argument was used as evidence to try to establish a motive for me to kill him. It was grossly mischaracterized and misinterpreted. And the fact of the matter is, I confronted him because I did have evidence he’d taken drugs from the evidence room. I wanted him to explain what I’d learned, if he could. Instead of clearing up any misunderstanding, he blew up at me.”
Her lips tightened, and if he hadn’t seen her nostrils flare slightly, the bridge of her nose crinkle in distress, he’d have believed he’d angered her further with his explanation. But those telltale details told him the battle she was having with her emotions. He’d known this conversation would upset her, but he wanted to make it as easy for her as possible.