Page 57
Don stared down at his hands. Sue’s stare stayed glassy and distant. That faraway, frozen look was one Felicity knew all too well — the gaze of someone who had learned, long before tonight, to shrink themselves small and hope the storm passed over.
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” Felicity said softly. “But if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
The teenager’s eyes flicked up, just for a moment, then darted away like a frightened bird. Felicity didn’t rush. She let the silence stretch, let them decide the pace. God knows she had learned that herself through hours of therapy.
Don shuffled closer to his sister, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Tell her,” he whispered.
A tear tracked down Sue’s cheek. “It started yesterday…”
*
It was late afternoon before Felicity finally made it back to the sheriff’s office, the weight of the day settling heavy on her shoulders.
In a nutshell: Lance Whittaker had come home drunk yesterday, freshly fired from work and furious, only to find Elaine and the kids packing their bags. The woman had finally found the courage to leave. A loud argument ensued.
He’d pulled a gun on Don, pressing it to the boy’s temple while Elaine answered the domestic disturbance call, sending help away. Then he locked his wife and children inside the bathroom for the night.
Only to start all over again come morning, rising with a growing, terrible resolve to end it all in a murder-suicide.
Felicity rubbed her temples. Another house that wasn’t a home, but a battlefield.
She entered the bullpen to the sound of labored breathing and huffed curses. It took her a beat to recognize the jumpy scene projected onto the television — her bodycam footage from earlier today.
“Seriously?” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
Collins grinned. “Come on, Graham, that was some tackle.”
Brianna fanned her face. “Poetry in motion.”
Mercer smirked. “Twice now Murphy’s done Graham’s heavy lifting. Maybe the sheriff should offer him a job.”
Low laughter rippled through the room. Felicity held her tongue.
Beau stepped out of his office, voice sharp. “All right, enough. Keep it professional, folks.”
The teasing died down immediately, but the smirks lingered.
15
Freckles
Ronan wasn’t sure how Felicity would react to his visit, but he couldn’t shake the worry. He’d seen a flash of something in her eyes earlier today. Something that hadn’t sat right with him since. He just couldn’t name it.
Which was why he found himself walking up to her apartment.
Over the past few weeks, he’d tried, futilely, to push her from his mind. That breaking through those walls of hers wasn’t his problem.
Yet she stayed with him.
In quiet moments, he found himself replaying the glimpses she’d let slip.
A vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.
It had made him realize something he hadn’t expected.
She mattered to him.
And walking away wasn’t as simple as he’d tried to make it.
