“Did Andrew keep his insulin in the bathroom?”
She raised an odd look before her expression became crestfallen. “No. He stored it in the refrigerator.”
“What about other medicines Andrew took or products he used?”
“Sure. Basic things like painkillers, antacids, mouthwash and toothpaste...”
Nicholas had grown bored with the backyard view and toddled over to the bookshelf. Reid sat forward, keeping a more attentive eye on the boy now. He had valuable items displayed on the shelves. “Did he ever go into the kitchen without you? Could he have tampered with the insulin without you knowing?”
Penelope turned her palms up. “Probably. I...” She raked both hands through her hair and scrunched her eyes closed. “God, Reid. It’s been almost two years. A lot has happened since then. I don’t remem—”
A crash interrupted her, and both his and Pen’s gazes flew to the bookshelf. Nicholas had started to climb, knocking a candy dish to the floor. Reid bolted from his seat and snatched the toddler into his arms just as the baby lost his footing and toppled backward.
“Nicholas!” Pen gasped as she rushed forward.
“He’s okay.” Reid exhaled a breath made shaky by a post-adrenaline shudder. “I got him.”
Pen stroked her son’s head and raised her eyes, bright with emotion, to his. “You saved him, you mean. That’s twice today. You saved me from the shooter, and now Nicholas from falling on his head.”
The little boy twisted and craned his head to look to the floor, unfazed by his tumble or the adults fawning. He pointed a chubby finger at the spilled sweets and broken glass. “Candy?”
“I’ll get a broom to clean up. Then we’ll get busy baby-proofing.”
*
After several minutes and much persuasion, Penelope was able to convince Nicholas to stay in the guest bed and take a nap. Reid had helped her make the twin bed more secure for the toddler by shoving it against a wall, moving a chest of drawers and removing the mounted trophy bass from the wall over his head.
Guilt nipped at her for having been inattentive enough to let Nicholas even start climbing the bookcase in pursuit of the candy. Reid had tried to assuage her self-reproach, blaming himself, pointing to the kid-unfriendliness of his house. She could argue that her head was swimming with all the crazy twists and turns of the day and that she suffered the lingering chill of having been shot at. She’d also been distracted by Reid’s questions about her father’s access to Andrew’s insulin. But, in truth, she had no good excuses for her negligence. She was a mother, first and foremost, and Nicholas’s safety should have trumped all the other chaos and mind-clutter of the day.
Penelope watched her son sleep peacefully for a few minutes, her heart swelling with a tender ache of affection. As much as she’d love to snuggle up next to her boy and nap herself, she and Reid had too much to do making the lake house safe for Nicholas. They needed to lay in supplies for their stay and start digging into the paperwork and computer files they’d acquired today from her father’s office and Andrew’s secret stash.
She rubbed her throbbing temple where a stress headache had built to a pounding pitch and joined Reid in the living room.
He glanced up from his task when she entered. “I found an empty box in my storage room. We can pack up anything and everything a two-year-old could break or get hurt from.”
She barked a short laugh. “So...essentially every piece of art, technology or furniture in the room.”
He shrugged. “If that’s what it takes. My entertainment center has a locking door, and we can move the remotes for the flat screen and Blu-ray player to the top of the mantel. I’ve already put the gun from my nightstand in the cabinet with the rifles, and the display case has been secured.”
“Maybe I should just go to a hotel. Or I could hire private security to guard us at our house, or...”
Reid sat back on his heels and studied her with a frown denting his forehead. “You could. But hotels and security guards cost money. I’m offering you a safe refuge and my protection for free.”
She sighed. “It’s not about the money.”
“No, it’s not. Because I can easily afford to pay for a hotel for you or a private guard, but—”
“It’s not your job to pay for my hotel! I’m not a charity case!” She couldn’t say why the idea of Reid covering any of her expenses galled her so much. Probably residual resentment of the Coltons and their wealth. Their the-world-belongs-to-us attitudes. “I can go stay with Andrew’s parents in Georgia. They have room and would be thrilled to have the time with Nicholas.”
“A logical place to go. Which is why the shooter could easily track you to your in-laws. Do you want to put them in the line of fire?”
She gritted her teeth in frustration. “Of course not.”
He arched an eyebrow at her peevish tone. “The point is I want to be the one protecting you.” He paused and frowned as if he realized how his declaration must have sounded to her. “What I mean is...I don’t know who we can trust. I have the time, the lake house and the ability, and I want to know the job is being done right. Don’t you want Nicholas in the safest possible location?”
She told him what she thought of his sly tactic with a low growl before muttering, “Of course I do.”
The implications and magnitude of everything she’d learned and been through today coalesced inside her. A bitter, scalding brew of deception and pain and fear. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands as the sobs broke like waves on the shore of a storm-tossed lake, one after another.