“It does,” I confess so quietly he might not hear me.
Remaining silent—for a change—Andrews pats my forearm soothingly. Words aren’t needed now, only his reassuring compassion. He isn’t intrusive or nosy.
He’s just there, offering me unwavering support.
His presence sets a protective perimeter around us, giving me the safe space I need to lower my guard fully. Now I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of his comfort. More than likely, this isn’t the first time he’s tried to be there for me.
But this is the first time I’ve ever let him in.
Shockingly, I don’t hate it.
“Warren, thank you for how you handled this.” I swallow, stalling to let my courage rise to the surface. “And for what it’s worth, I regret shutting you out for so long. I see now that you were only trying to earn my trust because you knew I needed someone I could count on. Unfortunately, I was too pig-headed to accept your guidance and friendship. I apologize.”
Instead of mocking me, which I would deserve, he maintains his empathetic demeanor. “You’re welcome, kid.” He rises, his bones creaking audibly. “I’ll give you a minute to yourself. I’m gonna empty the tank and then refill it with more coffee. Can I bring you something on my way back?
I wave him off. “Nah. I’m fine. Thanks.”
He slaps my shoulder as he leaves me alone with my thoughts.
Right then, Morgan Freeman’s voice returns, obviously assuming I summoned him.
Hard to believe the same man who wouldn’t answer a single question about his personal life at the beginning of our story just confessed something so deeply vulnerable to his partner. If I didn’t know better, I might think Reed’s finally lowered thedrawbridge to the fort that contains his humanity. Time will tell if this is a temporary blip due to the shock of learning these sad facts about his dear Lila. Or maybe it’s something more. Perhaps, he’s finally removed the cork from his asshole and is no longer emotionally constipated. One can hope.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. Freeman. I get it. You can piss off now.
Andrews returns to the office,sitting down at his desk this time. “Let’s see. Where were we?”
“You said there was more to share. If it’s something that’ll require me to arrest her, keep it to yourself. That might be my tipping point.”
Unlike how it typically irritates me, his familiar baritone laugh eases my anxiety. “Stow your cuffs for now, kid.”
“Hit me.”
“Remember the pictures you took at her blackjack table a while back? The other players you thought were making her nervous?”
“Yep. Did Carson finally find something?”
“She did.” He pauses, most likely for dramatic effect. “Brace yourself. I’m about to say your favorite words.”
I quash the smile threatening to crop up. Once I know the intel, I’ll decide if I can allow that type of reaction. “Go on.”
“Special Agent Reed Hayes, your instincts about those patrons were spot on. You. Were. Right.”
“And the crowd goes wild,” I retort sardonically. “Was the older guy one of them? Keith, I think was his name.”
“He was clean. Lots of debt, but he’s a chronic gambler. That goes with the territory.” He pauses for another sip of coffee. “Two of the gamblers were identified as part of the local chapterof STK. I have their names somewhere.” He flicks a hand toward the paperwork sprawled over his desk.
I tap my fingers on the chair’s armrest. “Was there any record of Silas being in STK?”
“As far as the gang unit is aware, no. Certainly not under the name ofSilas Everson, which we know is bogus.”
Not only do we still need to find outwhereSilas is, butwhohe is. How does he fit in this mess, or do I just want him to be guilty because he hurt Lila?
When I get home tonight, I need to ask Lila to tell me everything she knows about him. Maybe she’s been to his house or has another phone number. Something we can use.
A knock at the door has us both springing from our seats.
“Come in,” Andrews calls out.
