“Fine.” She turned to the passenger door and shouldered it open. “I’ll walk.”
Reid sighed. “Pen, wait.” When she didn’t stop, he popped open his door and trotted after her, jockeying to block her path. “I swear to you on Andrew’s grave, I didn’t know there was anything in that syringe besides insulin. I was trying to save his life, not hurt him!”
Hands clenched at her sides, she stopped and lifted her chin. “So you’ve said.”
“So why can’t you believe me?”
Tears sparkled in her hazel eyes, and Reid’s heart broke for her obvious pain. “Because! I just...”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, he filled the silence with the details she needed to know. “He passed out while we were interviewing a witness in the Holmes case. Just...fainted. I was able to revive him, and he started throwing up, said he had blurred vision. He told me to get his emergency diabetes kit that he kept in the cooler in the back of our cruiser, and I did. Then I called 911, even though he said it wasn’t necessary. He kept saying he’d be fine once he had some insulin. After I tested his blood sugar, found it way high, I gave him a shot using the vial of insulin in his kit. I had no reason to think it had been tampered with. Who the hell thinks their friend’s emergency insulin has been replaced with potassium chloride?”
Her shoulders drew back, and her eyes narrowed. “Maybe a better question is who the hell replaced his insulin with potassium?”
Reid spread his hands. “I agree! A very good question. One that has gone unanswered because of the witch hunt to blame me. But I didn’t do it, which means the person who did is still out there. Doesn’t that bother you? Because it sure as hell has kept me awake nights this past year and a half.”
Pen flinched and gaped at him as if truly startled by what he was saying. “I didn’t... I mean I thought...”
“You thought I’d gotten away with murder?” he huffed and shook his head. “But I’m telling you, I swear to you, it wasn’t me. Which means whoever did switch out the insulin did get away with murder.”
Her brow furrowed, and she plowed her hands through her hair. “Reid, I...I don’t know. How can I trust what you’re saying?” She cocked her head as if struck with an inspiration. “How do I know you’re not saying this to protect yourself and throw me off track?”
He barked an incredulous laugh. “Pen! The police have said there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest me for murder—or even manslaughter. Because of that argument, and only because we argued that morning, the cops still suspect me, but—”
“Officer Jamison said you threatened to kill Andrew. That you said, ‘I will kill you for this!’”
“And Franny Hill, the receptionist, backed me up that what I really said was, ‘Would it kill you to look into this?’”
This tidbit seemed to surprise her, as if she’d not heard about the receptionist’s testimony. Figured. The people mounting the campaign against him wouldn’t have shared that with her.
“The simple truth is, they had no way to prove I knew the insulin was tainted, that I had anything but pure motives to save Andrew when I gave him the injection and no reason to think I’d put the potassium chloride in the vial. So why the hell would I encourage you to have the case investigated further, if I were guilty?”
She curled her shoulders in now, her fingers rubbing her temples as she shook her head. “Reid, stop. I don’t know what to think! I can’t—”
“You think the only reason I wasn’t charged is because I’m a Colton. Don’t you? And because your father went to bat, defending me.”
“That chafed,” she admitted under her breath.
“Pen, Andrew was my friend. My partner.” He placed a hand over his heart, pleading with her, and his voice cracked with an unexpected surge of emotion. “I didn’t intend to kill him. I didn’t tamper with his insulin, and I didn’t know that anyone else had.”
“Stop it, Reid!” she said, her voice taut and thin. “Just...s-stop!” She bent her head, covering her face with her hands, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed. “I c-can’t do th-this...”
His heart squeezing painfully, Reid took her by the arms and pulled her into a firm embrace, tucking her under his chin and rubbing her back. He’d expected her to fight him, to pull away, but she wilted against him, the embodiment of defeat. “Pen, I’m sorry. So sorry for everything you’re going through. I want to be there for you, if you’ll let me. Andrew would have wanted me to look out for you. You know he would’ve.”
Her head bobbed slightly in agreement. When her fingers curled into his shirt, fisting the loose material as if clinging for dear life, his pulse bumped higher.
“I...I wanted to b-blame you,” she squeaked, her head still bowed as she cried against his chest. “I needed s-someone to blame, somewhere to d-direct my anger and p-pain.”
“I know. And if you want to vent on me, go ahead. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
She was silent for a few moments, crying softly and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Use my shirt. It’ll dry.” A chilly breeze stirred her hair and lifted the scent of her shampoo to his nose. December wasn’t the best month to be standing outside for a chat, but he’d endure arctic snow if it meant healing the rift between him and Penelope or easing her emotional suffering.
Then over the skittering sound of dead leaves blowing across the parking lot, Pen mumbled, “It doesn’t matter.”
“What? Of course it does.”
“Why are you doing this? It won’t bring him back. You weren’t charged, so—”
He grunted. Did she really need it spelled out?
Because I care about you. He balked at putting it quite so bluntly. He didn’t want her misconstruing his intent.
“Because I...value your friendship. Because I valued Andrew’s friendship and wish like hell I could do that day over. Not just because I’d change the things that made me look guilty, but because I hate that we argued on our last day together.”