Her Forgotten Betrayal(13)

Except there were still shadows swirling in her soft brown eyes. She was terrified, which made him wish he could slay every dragon for her until her fear went away. The fairy-tale image was laughable, but he was an honest enough man to admit that it was partly why he’d stayed, even if he was leaving himself open to an interpersonal dynamic that had nearly destroyed him as a teenager. Not that she remembered him at all. Which was as it should be. She had enough shit to dig herself out of without their past adding more trouble to the mix.

But, good intentions be damned, Cole couldn’t stop himself from holding tight to her hand as they walked deeper into the house. When he steered her down the well-lit hallway toward the kitchen, she tried to pull back. He kept his grip firm on her hand, and on his instinct to shelter her from what had to be done. He needed answers that would make Rick Dawson see her late-night sprint as something other than an attempt to escape the task force’s clutches.

“What are you doing?” she demanded as he drew her forward.

“Finding out what scared you, and showing you it wasn’t me.”

“Why? Who are you? Why are you here?”

The tremor in her voice gentled his touch, but he didn’t let her go. “Let’s stick with one question at a time, shall we?”

The thing about dealing with skittish suspects and witnesses was that they tended to want to be reassured, no matter how hard they fought attempts to help them face what was scaring them. Cole ushered her through the dining room and the swinging door into the mansion’s dated kitchen. A frosted shade covered the overhead light that dimly illuminated the room. It cast shadows across the storage area beyond and its open door to the outside world.

“The lights went out…” Shaw said haltingly. She raised a hand and rubbed the scar on her right temple, looking even more confused as she glanced about. “I know they did. I was heating cocoa, and I heard footsteps…” She pointed toward the dining room. “When I turned to see who it was, the lights went out.”

“You took the cocoa off the burner first?” He crossed to the stove.

“No, I…” Shaw stared at the pan that had been set neatly aside. The burner was turned off. Her forehead wrinkled. “I left it heating when something crashed in the dining room.”

“What crashed?” He shoved open the swinging door to the dining room.

Everything seemed to be where it should be. He tested the wall switch. The crystal chandelier burst into shimmering glory. He checked the carpet for footprints. It was muddy outside. Someone might have tracked in dirt or leaves.

“There’s no sign that anyone’s been here but you,” he said. Which would be seen as another strike against her when he reported her nocturnal activity.

Shaw peeked over his shoulder, then whirled around to stare into the storage room connected to the kitchen. The soft, lavender-colored robe she wore swirled around her like a formal gown, resettling with a sigh along the soft curves of her body. “I crawled into the back room. It was pitch black, but the footsteps were behind me there, too. I think…”

She rubbed at her scar again.

“Are you certain that’s what happened?” He steered her toward the storage room. As far as he’d seen, the lights hadn’t gone out at all. So at least a portion of what she’d experienced had occurred solely in her mind.

She accepted his touch more easily this time. Her trust left Cole battling a compulsion to tell her everything he knew about how much legal trouble she was in. But even if the parameters of his assignment had allowed him to do so—which they didn’t—the doctors didn’t want the details of her situation, or her memories, forced onto her.

And the guarded place inside Cole that a younger Shaw had trampled warned him not to identify any more personally with her situation than he already had.

“You heard more footsteps?” he prompted when she didn’t respond. “The lights were out. You crawled in here. Then what?”

She shook her head. “A gunshot?”

She looked up at him. Her expression begged him to believe her. Staring into the room’s shadows, she curled slender fingers around his wrist. Her gaze turned toward the outside door. Her body tensed as if she might run.

He flicked on the lights and squinted into the glare. The fuse box was set into the wall beside shelves that dominated the tiny room. Crossing to it, Shaw in tow, he gave the unit a thorough appraisal, checking for signs of tampering that he didn’t find. He realized his thumb was rubbing circles across Shaw’s soft palm, making soothing sweeps that he was taking as much comfort from at the moment as she was.