her partner’s voice. “Eric, I forgot you were there. What did you say?”
“The guy’s a nutcase. Don’t listen to him.”
She slumped back against the seat and folded her arms. “What if he’s right? What if Billy wasn’t involved with the break-in? What if the kid was innocent?”
“Come on, you know better.”
“They’re taking me to court. You heard him. I could be tied up in court for months. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“What about your lawyer friend? Maybe he’ll defend you. He probably doesn’t do charity cases, but maybe he’ll make an exception.”
Angel didn’t respond. Of course, Brandon would represent her—and for nothing. Wouldn’t he? She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her lower lip trembled and a sob escaped her throat. “What am I going to do, Eric?”
He reached over and rubbed her shoulder, “Quit punishing yourself. You know what went down, so don’t let this guy or those reporters get to you. The media is into sensationalism. They blow everything out of proportion. Seems like every time a cop has to use deadly force, the media is on it like maggots on a rotting corpse.”
Angel grimaced as his analogy. “You’re right about that.” Rising from the sofa, she adjusted the tie on her robe, wrapping it more securely around her.
“I should go.” Eric stood too, as if anxious to leave. She didn’t blame him. He wasn’t used to seeing her this way—so close to the edge.
She walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming by—and for the pep talk.”
“No problem.” He turned back, filling the doorway with his large frame. “There’s no way the grand jury’s going to indict you. Trust me on that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
After saying good-bye and closing and bolting the door, she leaned against it, wishing she could be as sure about all of this as Eric seemed to be.
As she headed to her bedroom, the phone began ringing. Who’d be calling this late ? She walked down the hall, planning to answer it, but in the end she went back to the sofa and let the machine do what she’d bought it to do.
“Hi, Angel,” Brandon said after the beep. “Must be sleeping, huh? Listen, I’m sorry about tonight. It wasn’t fair of me to buy the house without talking to you first. It’s just that the place was available and there were already several people interested in it. I felt I had to move fast. The proposal still stands, but no pressure, okay? I didn’t realize how serious your situation was until I saw it on the news tonight. My timing wasn’t the greatest, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Angel muttered, her annoyance with him reappearing.
“I just wanted to apologize and tell you I love you.”
Angel didn’t want his apology or his declaration of love, she just wanted to be left alone. She wanted peace of mind. She wanted to believe like Eric that everything would be okay. She turned off the lights, curled up under the afghan, and sat there for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the steady pounding of the waves. Sometime around midnight, she made her way to her bedroom and crawled into bed. Sleep came in snatches as images of Billy Dean Hartwell invaded her mind. Images of him raising his toy gun and laughing like a child at play. Images of her, pulling the trigger.
T he phone woke Angel at 7:00 the next morning. Her head still hurt. She refused to open her eyes. After three rings the answering machine picked up and said, “Hi, this is Angel, please leave a message at the beep.”
“Angel?”
She groaned into her pillow. “Dad, it’s too early.”
“You still in bed? Come on, now. I know you can hear me.” He sighed. “You know how I hate to talk into these things, but I got something to say.”
“Well, say it.” Angel mumbled but made no move to get out of bed.
“Don’t let those yahoos get to you, Angel. I saw that idiot bad-mouthing you on television last night.
“The guy’s a nutcase. Don’t listen to him.”
She slumped back against the seat and folded her arms. “What if he’s right? What if Billy wasn’t involved with the break-in? What if the kid was innocent?”
“Come on, you know better.”
“They’re taking me to court. You heard him. I could be tied up in court for months. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“What about your lawyer friend? Maybe he’ll defend you. He probably doesn’t do charity cases, but maybe he’ll make an exception.”
Angel didn’t respond. Of course, Brandon would represent her—and for nothing. Wouldn’t he? She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her lower lip trembled and a sob escaped her throat. “What am I going to do, Eric?”
He reached over and rubbed her shoulder, “Quit punishing yourself. You know what went down, so don’t let this guy or those reporters get to you. The media is into sensationalism. They blow everything out of proportion. Seems like every time a cop has to use deadly force, the media is on it like maggots on a rotting corpse.”
Angel grimaced as his analogy. “You’re right about that.” Rising from the sofa, she adjusted the tie on her robe, wrapping it more securely around her.
“I should go.” Eric stood too, as if anxious to leave. She didn’t blame him. He wasn’t used to seeing her this way—so close to the edge.
She walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming by—and for the pep talk.”
“No problem.” He turned back, filling the doorway with his large frame. “There’s no way the grand jury’s going to indict you. Trust me on that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
After saying good-bye and closing and bolting the door, she leaned against it, wishing she could be as sure about all of this as Eric seemed to be.
As she headed to her bedroom, the phone began ringing. Who’d be calling this late ? She walked down the hall, planning to answer it, but in the end she went back to the sofa and let the machine do what she’d bought it to do.
“Hi, Angel,” Brandon said after the beep. “Must be sleeping, huh? Listen, I’m sorry about tonight. It wasn’t fair of me to buy the house without talking to you first. It’s just that the place was available and there were already several people interested in it. I felt I had to move fast. The proposal still stands, but no pressure, okay? I didn’t realize how serious your situation was until I saw it on the news tonight. My timing wasn’t the greatest, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Angel muttered, her annoyance with him reappearing.
“I just wanted to apologize and tell you I love you.”
Angel didn’t want his apology or his declaration of love, she just wanted to be left alone. She wanted peace of mind. She wanted to believe like Eric that everything would be okay. She turned off the lights, curled up under the afghan, and sat there for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the steady pounding of the waves. Sometime around midnight, she made her way to her bedroom and crawled into bed. Sleep came in snatches as images of Billy Dean Hartwell invaded her mind. Images of him raising his toy gun and laughing like a child at play. Images of her, pulling the trigger.
T he phone woke Angel at 7:00 the next morning. Her head still hurt. She refused to open her eyes. After three rings the answering machine picked up and said, “Hi, this is Angel, please leave a message at the beep.”
“Angel?”
She groaned into her pillow. “Dad, it’s too early.”
“You still in bed? Come on, now. I know you can hear me.” He sighed. “You know how I hate to talk into these things, but I got something to say.”
“Well, say it.” Angel mumbled but made no move to get out of bed.
“Don’t let those yahoos get to you, Angel. I saw that idiot bad-mouthing you on television last night.
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