Page 49 of Redemption

I try to amuse myself by working on painting. But Caleb’s portrait annoys me, and I can’t get inspired by anything else. So I go to the kitchen and work on preparing a homemade beef stew that needs to simmer for a couple of hours. We can have it for a late lunch, and at least it gives me something to do with my hands. It’s gray and freezing out today, so hot stew will taste good.

Cooking occupies me for about an hour, but once I get it simmering, I’m bored and depressed again.

I check in on Caleb. He should be resting, but he’s scowling at his tablet. When I ask if he needs anything, he mutters, “I need to get out of this fucking bed.”

All right then. I leave him alone again after that.

Returning to the kitchen, I stir my stew for a minute and then slump down against the counter, annoyed with Caleb and the rest of the world.

“Something wrong?”

The voice startles me. I straighten up, turning to see Trey standing in the doorway. He’s been on duty this morning along with another guard they pulled in from Arthur’s rotation. “I’m fine. Just blah today.”

“That’s normal. After something like yesterday. The next day is always the worst, when it feels like the height of crisis is over but you’re left with all the unpleasant consequences. It doesn’t help that we haven’t caught the bastard yet.”

“Any news on what happened?”

“We found where he’d set himself up. He bought a specialized weapon that basically does the aiming automatically so he was able to shoot from a farther distance than we were predicting. Sorry about that.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it was our job to be on top of things. Morrison is mad as hell at himself. Never seen him in this kind of mood.”

That piece of information makes me feel a little better. At least his current behavior isn’t at all about me. “Well, I can’t blame you all for not magically foreseeing every possibility. He’s never used a gun before, has he?”

“No. He’s never used violence of any kind that we know about. Even when he came after Ms. Delacourte last year, he didn’t have a weapon on him.”

“Well, prison clearly developed him as a criminal.”

“Yep.” Trey makes a face, staring out the kitchen window. “It’ll do that.”

“So we just have to sit around here and wait for him to make the next move?”

“Well, we got Mick and two other guys out there looking for him. Hopefully they’ll find him. But otherwise, yep. We sit around here and wait.”

I snarl. “I hate waiting.”

He chuckles. “You’re not the only one. You and Morrison are a matched set. No wonder he likes you so much.”

“Caleb doesn’t—” See, I don’t know why my first instinct is to deny Trey’s claim, but that’s what I start to do. I do stop myself, but not soon enough.

Trey snorts and walks into my studio, which is connected to the kitchen. He makes a circuit around the room, checking out every window as he talks. “Caleb doesn’t what? Because I know you weren’t going to say he doesn’t like you.”

I shake my head and glance away, strangely embarrassed.

“I always liked working for your family,” Trey goes on, evidently needing little encouragement to continue a conversation. “And the first thing that was always made clear was that no one was allowed to mess with you. Fair enough. That’s basic professionalism. But it didn’t take long before I learned another rule. No one was even allowed to look at you too long or Morrison would be all on their case.”

“What?” My heart jumps slightly at those words, and I lean forward, wanting to hear more.

Trey is back in the kitchen now, laughing to himself. “I’ll never forget the first time I was on duty at your dad’s house when you stopped by to visit. You were out by the pool, and I hadn’t met you yet. All I did was glance out the window. I wasn’t checking you out or anything. I was just looking so I knew what you look like. And damn, I thought Morrison was going to bite my head off.”

“Really? When was that?”

“I don’t know,” Trey says with an easy shrug. “You’d recently dropped out of college, I think. I wasn’t leering or anything. How the hell could I have known he’d already called dibs on you?”

I almost choke on my surprise. “Dibs?”

“You know what I mean. He’d already, you know, marked his territory. I didn’t know. I was just looking. I’m a professional, and I wasn’t going to try anything anyway.”

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