Читать книгу Colton Christmas Protector - Beth Cornelison - Страница 13
ОглавлениеReid hurried over to where Pen stood, anxiety lining her brow.
Sure enough, behind the row of law manuals, she’d discovered a false wall panel that when opened revealed a safe.
“Do you think you can get in it?” he asked.
“I’m sure gonna try.” She rubbed her hands together and twisted her mouth in deep thought. “We’ll start with birthdays.”
While she began testing different combinations, Reid stuffed the file on Pen’s adoption into the waist of his jeans at his back and pulled his shirt over it to hide it. He moved over to where Pen stood, his gaze riveted on her slim fingers delicately adjusting the safe dial.
He held his breath, as much from anticipation as so he could listen in the near perfect silence for the snick of the lock’s tumbler.
When the telltale click came, he touched her arm. “Stop. Did you hear that clink?”
She cast a quick side glance, then narrowed her eyes on the dial. “Twenty-one. The first number is twenty-one.”
“Can you think of any significance for that number?” he asked. “Maybe you can come up with the other numbers, if you can think of any relevance for twenty-one.”
She drew her bottom lip into her teeth and furrowed her brow. “It’s not his birthday or anniversary. Nor my birthday. Or Nicholas’s.”
“Well, try turning the dial slowly the other way and let’s see if we hear the next tumbler click.”
She nodded and leaned close to the safe as she turned the combination dial slowly to the left. The dial went completely around without another giveaway snick.
He gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Keep trying.”
She angled her gaze to his hand, then raised a dubious look to him. “Back up. You’re crowding me.”
He raised both hands, palms out and took a step back. “Sorry.”
Then, while she worked, he had an inspiration. Turning his back to her, he pulled out the adoption file and cracked it open. With his gaze, he scanned the document on top until he found the date her adoption was finalized. The date she came to live with the Barringtons. August 21, 1987.
One month and a few days after she was born.
He hid the file under his shirt again and faced her. “Try eight with the twenty-one. Before or after. Then...” The dial had no eighty-seven. The numbers stopped at 50. “Then eight again and seven.”
She faced him, her head cocked to the side. “Why? What do you know about those numbers?”
That the digits meant nothing to her was more evidence she didn’t know about her adoption. He’d have to think long and hard about whether he would tell her about his find. For now he downplayed his suggestion. “Just a hunch. May be nothing.”
When she continued to question him with her dubious glare, he flicked a hand at the safe. “Let’s go. We need to hurry and get out of here before someone finds us.”
She huffed her acquiescence and spun the dial slowly to the combination he offered. Nothing happened when she tested the door, and she gave him a so-much-for-your-idea look.
He returned to her side, nudging her out of the way with his hip. “Let me try.”
He tested the combination again, turning the dial the opposite direction to start. And heard encouraging clicks as he progressed through the pattern. When he tugged on the safe door, it swung open.
She made a little grunt of surprise, then moved forward to peer into the hidden lockbox. “You will be telling me the significance of those numbers later.”
At the front of the deep compartment were the expected jewelry boxes. When they opened the first box they found a diamond and sapphire choker necklace.
Pen sighed sadly. “That was my mother’s. I remember her wearing it out to big fundraisers and parties with my dad.”
“It’s stunning.” He passed the jewelry box to Pen, and she swiped gentle fingers over the stones.
He took out the rest of the jewelry boxes stacked at the front of the safe and set them on a shelf of the bookcase. The back of the safe was dark, but he could clearly see stacks of something. He reached in and drew out bundled cash. He gave a low whistle. “Pen, look.”
She blinked. “Money? Good gravy! Those are hundred-dollar bills. That’s got to be in the thousands of dollars!”
“There’s more.” He reached in and withdrew another bundle of cash, an envelope with municipal bonds, more cash in Euro bills and two bank-record booklets of offshore accounts.
When he turned to Penelope, she was pale and trembling.
“I don’t understand. Why...” She paused to swallow. “There’s a fortune here. Why wouldn’t he put this in the bank? What—”
“A getaway fund?” Reid suggested.
“But getaway from what? Why?”
“My guess is he didn’t declare any of this to the IRS. Remember the tax records Andrew had?”
“Tax evasion? A getaway fund?” She shook her head, clearly in shock and trying to process their find. She flipped through the stack of money, then the bonds, with damp eyes and shaking hands.
Reid reached back into the safe and pulled out a dusty ledger, a file folder with old tax returns and a flash drive. When Pen saw what he had found, her face crumpled in further distress.
He longed to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Bad relationship or not, learning your father might be breaking the law and cheating people would be hard for anyone to accept. The nail in Hugh’s coffin was the passport with his picture under the name Samuel Morris Griffin. He held the fake passport up for her to see and Pen blanched. “He’s prepared to flee the country at a moment’s notice. But...why?”
“Good question.” Reid spread the evidence on the shelf, pulled out his phone to snap a picture, then returned the money, files, bank books, passport and bonds in neat stacks to the safe. He slipped the flash drive into his pocket to delve into later.
“Do you think...” She seemed to be having a hard time breathing. “Andrew knew about this? Is that why he was keeping the...” she paused again to rub her hand on her sternum “...the secret file on him? That he was going to turn my father in for...whatever made my dad think he needed a getaway plan?”
Reid shrugged. “I don’t know, Pen. Andrew was a good cop. If he suspected foul play—”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Reid and Pen turned quickly toward the office door, where an older gentleman in a suit and dark tie scowled at them from the hall. Beside him, Pen gave a soft, guilty-sounding gasp.
“Who let you—” The older man paused, his expression growing more startled and confused than hostile. “Oh, Ms. Penelope. I wasn’t told to expect you.”
“Stanley!” She fixed a stiff grin on her face and moved to block the butler’s view of the bank books and cash still sitting on a lower shelf. “Gracious! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“I apologize, ma’am.” The butler’s face remained stern and suspicious. “But I’m equally surprised to see you in your father’s office.” His tone was heavy with judgment and castigation. “Is there something I can do for you?” He raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. “Or would you like me to call your father for his assistance with something?”
The threat was clear, though delivered in a thinly ingratiating manner.
Reid tensed, mentally searching for a way to defend their presence when Pen said, “Not necessary, Stanley. I’ve simply come to retrieve my mother’s necklace.”
She reached behind her without turning and groped for the black velvet jewelry box. Reid surreptitiously nudged it toward her fingers. She grasped it and held it out for Stanley to see.
With a calmness in her tone that Reid would bet belied butterflies in her gut, she explained, “Daddy has been keeping these here for me, but Mama left it to me. I was thinking I’d wear it next week to a fundraiser for the Fallen Law Enforcement Officers Memorial ball.”
A muscle in the butler’s jaw twitched, and his suspicious gaze shifted from Penelope to Reid. “And he is with you, because...?”
Penelope jerked her chin higher and gave a delicate grunt of disgust. “Stanley, really!”
“I insisted on coming with Penelope for her security. The necklace is clearly quite valuable, and I didn’t want anything to happen to her or the jewels as she took them to her bank lockbox.” Reid ad-libbed, giving a deferential smile. “Can’t be too careful these days. Right?”
“Stanley, you’ve met Reid Colton, haven’t you? He was Andrew’s partner.” She paused, then added as she tipped her head, “And the son of one of father’s best clients. Don’t be so inhospitable.”
The man’s face hardened for having been chastened. “My apologies, Ms. Penelope, Mr. Colton. I simply meant to look out for your father’s interests. You are in his private office, after all. I believe he’d consider this an invasion of his privacy.”
“Understood.” Reid gave a brief nod of agreement and put the other jewel boxes back in the safe. “We have what we came for, so...we’ll be off. Pen?”
“Right.” Penelope clutched the jewelry box to her chest and moved toward the door.
Reid restored the safe and bookshelf to order as best he could and took several large strides to catch up with her. As he passed the desk and computer, he pretended to hit his leg on the desk chair. Grunting, he bent to rub his knee and stealthily unplugged the flash drive and hit the power button on the desktop tower on the floor. Palming the flash drive, he winced as if in pain as he hobbled to catch up with Penelope in the hall. He’d have loved to get a peek in that locked desk drawer but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. Today.
If only he could come back without Pen and get in that drawer. If he were still a cop, he could get a warrant. He had cause based on the documents Andrew had left hidden in his wall. But unless he wanted to be nabbed for breaking and entering or turn the case over to the authorities before he knew what was truly going on with Pen’s father—which he didn’t—he’d have to sit tight. For now.
In the meantime, he had a flash drive full of files and browsing history to review, and that could prove quite interesting.
* * *
As Reid drove away from her father’s mansion, Penelope stroked the velvet-covered jewelry box in her lap and exhaled the stress knotted in her chest. “Well, that didn’t go so well.”
He rolled his shoulders and cocked his head side to side, stretching his neck. “I don’t know. We found some evidence that backs up what Andrew seems to have been onto, and I copied a lot of his computer files to look into.”
She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Maybe. But...isn’t it possible the money and bank accounts are legit? I mean, there’s nothing illegal about keeping money in your safe or having offshore accounts.”
“Not in theory. But it is illegal to fake a passport. In my experience, if it hides in an office safe like a duck and supports a reasonable suspicion like a duck, it’s not an innocent puppy.”
She angled her head to stare at him and frowned. “That is...the most tortured and convoluted analogy I’ve heard in...ever.”
“But you get my point.”
She sighed. “I do.”
“And there is no good explanation for the fake passport.”
“No.” Turning to gaze at the frozen north Texas landscape that flew by, she acknowledged the hollowness, the sinking sensation that gnawed inside her.
“Please tell me that your mother really did leave those jewels to you and that we didn’t just steal a necklace worth thousands of dollars.”
She cracked open the box and peeked at the shimmering stones. She’d have to take the jewels to her bank lockbox on the way to pick up Nicholas today. “She really did. I just never had a reason to wear it, so I left it in my father’s keeping.” She huffed a sigh. “Guess I should be glad he hadn’t sold it for getaway cash, huh?”
Reid didn’t bother to answer, but he sent her a sympathetic glance.
“So now what do we do? Call the police? Turn him in to the IRS?”
Reid didn’t answer, and she shifted on the seat to study his profile. Truth be told, she’d always considered him an unfairly handsome guy. While Andrew had been her first love—a sweet, honest, loyal man—he’d been only average in looks. Her husband had started putting on a bit of a belly when he hit thirty and she’d gotten better at cooking and baking. But along with his family’s wealth and power, Reid Colton had inherited uncommonly good looks. From his square-cut jaw and straight nose to his thick sandy-brown hair and deep blue eyes, he had turned her head from day one.
She recalled that first day she’d met Reid Colton at the exclusive private school they’d both attended as preteens. He’d had little more than a cursory glance and polite smile for the daughter of his family’s lawyer, who was not only too tall for her age, but also cursed with both freckles and braces. Her mother had barely finished the introduction on the front steps of the school that first day of sixth grade before Reid had been trotting away to join the cool kids across the crowded lawn. She’d never entirely shaken the crush she had on him in junior high. Even after she met Andrew and had been charmed by his boyish grin and gentlemanly ways.
“Reid?” she repeated when he remained silent. “What are you thinking? What do I do with this information?”
He cut a quick side glance to her and flexed his hands against the steering wheel. “Nothing.”
“What!”
“You will do nothing. Let me handle this. I’ll do some more digging, see what I captured on the flash drive, go over the files Andrew kept more closely and maybe make a few quiet inquiries to see if I can put together a case that will stand up.”
“You? By yourself?” She sent him a dark look.
“Yeah.” He scratched his slightly stubbled chin as he nodded. “I think that’s the best move. If we make accusations too early, show our hand before we have hard proof, your dad could get rid of evidence, cover his tracks...” He paused to send her a meaningful glance. “Leave the country...and we’d never make a case. An important part of managing a case is to not tip off your suspect to what you’re doing too soon.”
Penelope tightened her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. Was he deliberately ignoring her disgruntled tone or was he that obtuse?
“I don’t think so.”
“Hmm?” He sent her a frown with his puzzled look.
“One, I won’t be shut out.” She bent to stash the jewelry box in the main compartment of her purse. “I didn’t call you today to have you bulldoze in and take over. I get a say in how we handle this.”
“Pen—”
“Two,” she continued, poking his shoulder with her finger and cutting him off. “You are not on the force anymore. You don’t have the authority to investigate this and arrest my father if he is, in fact, breaking the law. Remember? You were dismissed for killing my husband.”
And yeah, she allowed her tone to reflect the bitterness she’d been nursing toward Reid for months. She felt tears rise and wondered why she’d brought him into this mess. She really didn’t want to be involved with him in any way, shape or form.
He didn’t respond for several tense seconds. His expression said her comments had hit their mark. “I may not be on the force anymore, but I haven’t forgotten how to investigate a crime,” he said in a low tone. “And until I have a more complete picture of what’s going on, what Andrew was thinking, I’m not going to involve the authorities. As far as you being involved...”
His jaw tightened, and a muscle in his check flexed as he gritted his teeth. “I’d rather you stepped back. You’re too close to this. Let me see where it goes. If I need anything from you, I’ll let you know. But you don’t need the worry added to your plate.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and chuckled without humor. “Very smoothly put, Reid. All that was missing was patting me on the head and sending me back to the kitchen with my apron and high heels.”
He cringed. “Aw, come on, Pen. You know I’m not a chauvinist. I just want to protect you from as much of the fallout from this as I can. You’ve had a tough enough time without adding—”
“Don’t tell me how hard my life has been,” she interrupted, bristling, “when you’re the reason my husband—” She gasped and grabbed the dashboard as Reid abruptly took a sharp and unexpected turn onto a side road. “What are you doing? This isn’t the way to my house!”
“I’m not going to your house...yet.”
“Not going...?” She studied the buildings and parking lots they passed, trying to decide where he was going. Not the Colton estate where he lived with his large, extended family. “Reid, take me home. I don’t have time for this.” She angled her body toward his on the front seat and balled her hands in her lap, itching to slug him in the shoulder. “I have to pick up Nicholas from the church soon.”
“I’ll take you to the church for Nicholas if we run late.”
“Reid!” She tightened her fists, her frustration and dismay over the events of the day building inside her. If she did haul off and slug Reid Colton in the arm, who could blame her? Taking a calming breath, she said instead, “You don’t have a car seat for Nicholas, and I will not let my baby ride anywhere unrestrained.”
“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.
He touched her arm and whispered, “Pen, I don’t want to upset you, but if you’d—”
She shook off his hand and glared. “Oh, really? You actually thought we could have this conversation without upsetting me?” She scoffed. “Take me home, Reid. Now.”
“Give me just a minute to—”
“Fine.” She turned to the passenger door and shouldered it open. “I’ll walk.”
Reid sighed. “Pen, wait.” When she didn’t stop, he popped open his door and trotted after her, jockeying to block her path. “I swear to you on Andrew’s grave, I didn’t know there was anything in that syringe besides insulin. I was trying to save his life, not hurt him!”
Hands clenched at her sides, she stopped and lifted her chin. “So you’ve said.”
“So why can’t you believe me?”
Tears sparkled in her hazel eyes, and Reid’s heart broke for her obvious pain. “Because! I just...”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, he filled the silence with the details she needed to know. “He passed out while we were interviewing a witness in the Holmes case. Just...fainted. I was able to revive him, and he started throwing up, said he had blurred vision. He told me to get his emergency diabetes kit that he kept in the cooler in the back of our cruiser, and I did. Then I called 911, even though he said it wasn’t necessary. He kept saying he’d be fine once he had some insulin. After I tested his blood sugar, found it way high, I gave him a shot using the vial of insulin in his kit. I had no reason to think it had been tampered with. Who the hell thinks their friend’s emergency insulin has been replaced with potassium chloride?”
Her shoulders drew back, and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe a better question is who the hell replaced his insulin with potassium?”
Reid spread his hands. “I agree! A very good question. One that has gone unanswered because of the witch hunt to blame me. But I didn’t do it, which means the person who did is still out there. Doesn’t that bother you? Because it sure as hell has kept me awake nights this past year and a half.”
Pen flinched and gaped at him as if truly startled by what he was saying. “I didn’t... I mean I thought...”
“You thought I’d gotten away with murder?” he huffed and shook his head. “But I’m telling you, I swear to you, it wasn’t me. Which means whoever did switch out the insulin did get away with murder.”
Her brow furrowed, and she plowed her hands through her hair. “Reid, I...I don’t know. How can I trust what you’re saying?” She cocked her head as if struck with an inspiration. “How do I know you’re not saying this to protect yourself and throw me off track?”
He barked an incredulous laugh. “Pen! The police have said there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest me for murder—or even manslaughter. Because of that argument, and only because we argued that morning, the cops still suspect me, but—”
“Officer Jamison said you threatened to kill Andrew. That you said, ‘I will kill you for this!’”
“And Franny Hill, the receptionist, backed me up that what I really said was, ‘Would it kill you to look into this?’”
This tidbit seemed to surprise her, as if she’d not heard about the receptionist’s testimony. Figured. The people mounting the campaign against him wouldn’t have shared that with her.
“The simple truth is, they had no way to prove I knew the insulin was tainted, that I had anything but pure motives to save Andrew when I gave him the injection and no reason to think I’d put the potassium chloride in the vial. So why the hell would I encourage you to have the case investigated further, if I were guilty?”
