For You
Page 97
When she was done, she tilted her head and whispered, “I’m so stupid.”
He pulled the papers from her hand, turned and tossed them on the desk and came back to her, his arm still around her, his other hand going to her jaw, he dropped his forehead to hers.
“Don’t go back there, Feb, that wasn’t where I was taking you.”
“I was drunk… I saw –”
He touched his mouth to hers to stop her words then said, “Baby, don’t go back there. Stay here, with me. You’re goin’ where Denny’s leading you, not me, not Amy.” She pulled in breath, fought the train of her thoughts and nodded. “She wanted you to know.” Feb nodded again. “She wouldn’t want any more pain.” Feb nodded yet again. “She’d want you to let it go.”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“She gave all she could so we could let it go.”
The tears slid down her cheeks and she repeated softly, “Yeah.”
“The Harrises want us at her funeral.”
She nodded again but her breath snagged.
“They need to see Amy didn’t die for nothing.”
“But she did,” Feb whispered, her lips catching tears and her tongue slid out to clean them way.
“They need to think she didn’t.”
Feb nodded yet again. “We can give them that.”
He pulled her in both of his arms, she stuffed her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight.
“I hate him, Colt,” she said into his neck, her voice thick, clogged, sounding choked.
“I know you do, honey.”
She bunched his blazer in her fists at his back, yanking down on it hard before she sobbed, “God, I hate him.”
He held her until she cried it out and pulled her face out of neck, tipping her head back to look at him. She let him go with one of her hands and wiped her face.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Will be, when this’s over.”
She nodded again and whispered, “Maybe wrong, seein’ as it was the way it was with Denny raping her, but I’m glad you don’t have to live thinkin’ you did what I thought you did.”
Colt helped her wipe her face before he said, “That isn’t wrong, baby.”
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, sucked in a deep breath that expanded her whole body, Colt settled a hand around the back of her neck and when she let out her breath, she asked his chest, “We still on for Frank’s?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Her breath hitched again and she said, “Missed too much already.”
Colt closed his eyes before he opened them and ordered, “February, look at me.”
She did what she was told and tipped her head back.
“Just as much a waste of time thinkin’ about what life might have brought as it is thinkin’ you can turn back the clock and change things.”
She bit the side of her lip as her eyes slid to the side then she tilted her head and looked back at him. “But you’ve missed dozens of frittatas.”
There she was. There was his girl.
“Just dozens?” he asked.
“You haven’t had my homemade waffles yet. Or my Omelet a la Feb.”
Colt smiled. “Damn, baby, look at me. I’m a forty-four year old man who’s got a life of breakfast delights waiting for him.”
She smiled back, it wasn’t bright but it was something. “Don’t think you don’t have to earn them.”
“I’ll earn ‘em.”
She got up on her toes and touched her lips to his before looking him right in the eye.
“You better.”
* * * * *
When Colt hit the top of the stairs at the Station he went directly to his desk to drop the envelope on it but nearly stuttered a step when his head swung right and he saw her.
Sully was right. At a glance, Cheryl “Candy” Sheckle was the spitting image of February.
Closer inspection showed she was younger by at least a decade, maybe more and life hadn’t been kind. It also showed her hair was dyed, not natural like Feb’s. She’d had her br**sts enhanced, they were larger than Feb’s, didn’t fit her frame, which was tall and attractive. She didn’t have Feb’s style either but she was trying and this was likely because Lowe made her. She had a choker, not like Feb’s or even close, but it was there. The tangle of silver was at her neck and wrists, rings, hoops in her ears. Feb selected her jewelry for a reason that was individual and it stamped her personality on her. This woman had hers selected for her and it was both not as high quality and she didn’t carry it right. Her clothes were too tight but it was the t-shirt, jeans and boots. Again, not the same quality but near enough and she wore these, Colt suspected, because her man liked them, not because she did.
Her brown eyes caught sight of him and surprise flooded her face before she quickly averted her eyes and Colt felt his jaw get tight. She’d been given the same story as Ryan. She knew him and she knew him as a dirty cop.
Sully slid up to him as he dropped the envelope on his desk.
“Everything go all right with Amy’s parents?” he asked.
“Good as it could, considering she sent her suicide notes to them and in them they learned their daughter had been raped by Denny Lowe.”
Sully reared back a few inches before he breathed, “Fuck me.”
Colt got closer and his voice dipped lower. “Kid’s not mine, I didn’t touch her, never had my clothes off, either did she. Kid’s Denny’s.”
Sully’s face got red before he said, “This guy’s like a freakin’ tornado, devastation in his wake.” He looked at the envelope and back at Colt. “The note?”
“Yep, the one to me.”
“Can we use it?”
“Parents’ve given permission.”
“Feb know all this?”
“Just got back from the bar.”
“How’d she take it?”
“Not good but I learned I got waffles and omelets to look forward to, though I gotta earn ‘em so it ended on a high note.”
Sully smiled and it wasn’t with humor but something else. He didn’t make Colt wait long to find out what that something else was.
“You remember that time we were in Winter Park, Lorraine went to bed and you and I decided to see a Colorado sunrise so we stayed up all night drinkin’ and talkin’?” he asked then quickly added something that would give Colt an out if he didn’t want to enter the conversation. “You were pretty hammered.”
He pulled the papers from her hand, turned and tossed them on the desk and came back to her, his arm still around her, his other hand going to her jaw, he dropped his forehead to hers.
“Don’t go back there, Feb, that wasn’t where I was taking you.”
“I was drunk… I saw –”
He touched his mouth to hers to stop her words then said, “Baby, don’t go back there. Stay here, with me. You’re goin’ where Denny’s leading you, not me, not Amy.” She pulled in breath, fought the train of her thoughts and nodded. “She wanted you to know.” Feb nodded again. “She wouldn’t want any more pain.” Feb nodded yet again. “She’d want you to let it go.”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“She gave all she could so we could let it go.”
The tears slid down her cheeks and she repeated softly, “Yeah.”
“The Harrises want us at her funeral.”
She nodded again but her breath snagged.
“They need to see Amy didn’t die for nothing.”
“But she did,” Feb whispered, her lips catching tears and her tongue slid out to clean them way.
“They need to think she didn’t.”
Feb nodded yet again. “We can give them that.”
He pulled her in both of his arms, she stuffed her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight.
“I hate him, Colt,” she said into his neck, her voice thick, clogged, sounding choked.
“I know you do, honey.”
She bunched his blazer in her fists at his back, yanking down on it hard before she sobbed, “God, I hate him.”
He held her until she cried it out and pulled her face out of neck, tipping her head back to look at him. She let him go with one of her hands and wiped her face.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Will be, when this’s over.”
She nodded again and whispered, “Maybe wrong, seein’ as it was the way it was with Denny raping her, but I’m glad you don’t have to live thinkin’ you did what I thought you did.”
Colt helped her wipe her face before he said, “That isn’t wrong, baby.”
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, sucked in a deep breath that expanded her whole body, Colt settled a hand around the back of her neck and when she let out her breath, she asked his chest, “We still on for Frank’s?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Her breath hitched again and she said, “Missed too much already.”
Colt closed his eyes before he opened them and ordered, “February, look at me.”
She did what she was told and tipped her head back.
“Just as much a waste of time thinkin’ about what life might have brought as it is thinkin’ you can turn back the clock and change things.”
She bit the side of her lip as her eyes slid to the side then she tilted her head and looked back at him. “But you’ve missed dozens of frittatas.”
There she was. There was his girl.
“Just dozens?” he asked.
“You haven’t had my homemade waffles yet. Or my Omelet a la Feb.”
Colt smiled. “Damn, baby, look at me. I’m a forty-four year old man who’s got a life of breakfast delights waiting for him.”
She smiled back, it wasn’t bright but it was something. “Don’t think you don’t have to earn them.”
“I’ll earn ‘em.”
She got up on her toes and touched her lips to his before looking him right in the eye.
“You better.”
* * * * *
When Colt hit the top of the stairs at the Station he went directly to his desk to drop the envelope on it but nearly stuttered a step when his head swung right and he saw her.
Sully was right. At a glance, Cheryl “Candy” Sheckle was the spitting image of February.
Closer inspection showed she was younger by at least a decade, maybe more and life hadn’t been kind. It also showed her hair was dyed, not natural like Feb’s. She’d had her br**sts enhanced, they were larger than Feb’s, didn’t fit her frame, which was tall and attractive. She didn’t have Feb’s style either but she was trying and this was likely because Lowe made her. She had a choker, not like Feb’s or even close, but it was there. The tangle of silver was at her neck and wrists, rings, hoops in her ears. Feb selected her jewelry for a reason that was individual and it stamped her personality on her. This woman had hers selected for her and it was both not as high quality and she didn’t carry it right. Her clothes were too tight but it was the t-shirt, jeans and boots. Again, not the same quality but near enough and she wore these, Colt suspected, because her man liked them, not because she did.
Her brown eyes caught sight of him and surprise flooded her face before she quickly averted her eyes and Colt felt his jaw get tight. She’d been given the same story as Ryan. She knew him and she knew him as a dirty cop.
Sully slid up to him as he dropped the envelope on his desk.
“Everything go all right with Amy’s parents?” he asked.
“Good as it could, considering she sent her suicide notes to them and in them they learned their daughter had been raped by Denny Lowe.”
Sully reared back a few inches before he breathed, “Fuck me.”
Colt got closer and his voice dipped lower. “Kid’s not mine, I didn’t touch her, never had my clothes off, either did she. Kid’s Denny’s.”
Sully’s face got red before he said, “This guy’s like a freakin’ tornado, devastation in his wake.” He looked at the envelope and back at Colt. “The note?”
“Yep, the one to me.”
“Can we use it?”
“Parents’ve given permission.”
“Feb know all this?”
“Just got back from the bar.”
“How’d she take it?”
“Not good but I learned I got waffles and omelets to look forward to, though I gotta earn ‘em so it ended on a high note.”
Sully smiled and it wasn’t with humor but something else. He didn’t make Colt wait long to find out what that something else was.
“You remember that time we were in Winter Park, Lorraine went to bed and you and I decided to see a Colorado sunrise so we stayed up all night drinkin’ and talkin’?” he asked then quickly added something that would give Colt an out if he didn’t want to enter the conversation. “You were pretty hammered.”
