How convenient. “And allow you to use this case for your next story? I think not.”
She recoiled a touch at his response but nodded. “I understand. While my word means nothing, I assure you, this experience will not become fodder for any future novel.”
“You’re going to continue to write?” If that didn’t prove she hadn’t changed, he didn’t know what would.
“I am under contract for one more mystery and one more romance. As Mr. O’Dell has demanded that both contracts be fulfilled regardless of the current situation, I have no choice.”
“You could choose to break them.”
“I could, but there are significant financial implications, and more importantly, it would mean going back on my word.”
“Some promises should be broken. Even David went back on his rash vow to kill every male belonging to Nabal. Your next story may very well condemn another man to death. Should not that promise be broken in light of saving another’s life?”
Her gaze drifted away. After a long, quiet moment, she sighed. “I will pray over what you have said and give it honest thought.”
When her attention returned to him, it was a struggle to maintain his defenses against the brokenness he saw there.
“I really do want to be the woman God desires me to be—even if it comes at a cost. Thus, my coming to apologize. You don’t know me well enough to understand, but apologies are not something I easily hand out. And Iamsorry. More than you can ever know.”
Her regret felt genuine, but she was a good storyteller. And her machinations had been proficient enough to go unnoticed for several years. He couldn’t allow her to chip a breach into his wall. At the first sign of his stance softening, he stiffened. She would not win him over with her pitiful eyes or earnest tone. She was the enemy. The criminal. He was an officer of the law, and it was his job not to be swayed by her.
After an extended silence, her chin dipped. “Thank you for listening, and I wish you well on your case. Good evening, Detective Hall.” She didn’t lift her head as she scooted past him into the foyer to collect her hat and shawl from the hatstand.
Good. He’d survived her attack with his wall intact. She could leave, and he’d be safe from her influence.
Except some traitorous part of him demanded he believe her. Worse, it demanded him to recant and grant her mercy and grace.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
God, she doesn’t deserve it.A niggle of Mother’s reprimand chastised him.But I suppose none of us do.
He sighed, trying to focus on Mother’s wisdom. It wasn’t his place to judge the genuineness of Miss Pelton’s contrition. Only God could see the heart, and was not this moment revealing that he had a heart as judgmental as hers? His mouth twisted. What a pair they made.
He dropped his hand and discreetly observed her.
She angled away from him, but the mirror to her left revealed the slip of her confident veneer. Momentary, wretched grief crumpled her face as she stared at the white shawl too long. She clenched her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and adopted a mask of composure as she swung the shawl around her shoulders. With hat in hand, she stepped toward the kitchen—presumably to announce their departure.
Hang it all. “Come back and have a seat, Miss Pelton.”
Apprehension and confusion played across her face, but she returned, claiming the edge of a chair.
Abraham forced himself to sit across from her and prayed for guidance, because he had no idea what he was going to say or do now. “An apology, while appreciated, does not make you trustworthy.”
“No, it doesn’t, especially when I’ve spent a great deal of time fooling everyone—perhaps myself most of all.”
The slouch to her body and the heaviness in her tone exposed the burden she felt far better than her earlier speech had. These were the words he could trust. Unrehearsed. Raw. Guileless.
Her hands knotted together, her fingers working themselves into odd positions. “God has been quite merciless with His sword of the Spirit over the last few days. Or maybe I should sayfaithful. He’s revealed my shortcomings and outright defiance in painfully clear ways.” Her voice turned thick, and she stared out the window rather than at him. A stray tear slid down her cheek, and she scrubbed it away with the heel of her hand. “I meant it, Detective Hall. I am truly sorry for the abominable person I’ve been.”
“I’ve known worse.”
She snapped toward him. “Really? I think it would be pretty hard to top a dime novelist who sentences men to death with her pen.”
“And as a dime novelist who writes about police, you should know you don’t even come close to the wickedness I’ve seen in this world.” Oddly enough, his voicing that made her seem less of a reprobate.
She’d never set out to hurt anyone. Her intentions had been flawed and misguided, but at their core, they were admirable. Who didn’t desire justice for the defenseless? Wasn’t that why he did his job?
Miss Pelton sniffed and flicked away a few more tears that had escaped down her cheeks. “Thank you for not hating me.”
