Page 38 of Trace of Doubt
“Any of your speech include an apology?” I longed to hear him clomp down the porch steps.
“I admitted I was a jerk, and I’m sorry. I’d like to start all over as friends.”
“There’s that friends pitch again. Why?” I hesitated at Denton’s second plea to hear him out. Dare I give him the grace he hadn’t shown me? I thought about Mrs. Emory... Losing my temper appealed to justice and fairness but not my commitment to faith. As much as I detested my own actions to yield to his request, the metal doorknob twisted in my hand. “All right. Ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” Once inside, he sat on my sofa, and I slipped into the chair opposite him. A few smile lines fanned out from his brown eyes. “I’ll start at the beginning... with honesty.”
“That’s one minute for the past fifteen years, not ten.”
He pressed his lips together, no more amused than I. “You remember me as an agent who worked the original case. Your arrest was my first opportunity to investigate a major crime, not the murder charges but the theft. The police requested FBI assistance, and my partner and I were assigned. I desperately wanted to prove myself to the FBI. Instead, I failed and blamed you. My pride took a beating. My dad and two brothers were highly decorated police officers, and earning their approval meant everything to me.”
Denton paused. “I was engaged prior to entering the FBI, and she broke it off during my training at Quantico. The same day you were sentenced, she agreed to marry my middle brother, Andy. Sounds weak, but it’s the truth. You went to prison, and I continued working other FBI cases, but I always searched for the money and the evidence to pin it on you.”
I listened. Did he expect me to feel sorry for him? “So your self-worth is based on your performance?” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. “That was uncalled for. Please continue.”
“What I never expected was to like you, and today I realized the girl back then is not the woman today. Something changed you, and if it’s the Jesus-thing, I’m happy for you. For whatever it’s worth, I don’t think you stole the money anymore.”
I digested his words and held tightly to concealing my emotions. I’d learned from my online searches that his fiancée married his brother. That must have stung. “You’ve known me a week. Why would I believe you when this sounds like a tactic to earn my trust and save your ego?” I breathed in deeply for patience. “I’m a convicted murderer, but you want to be friends. How very noble.”
“You’re right. No reason to believe me. But it’s all I have.”
“What do you want from me?”
“To tell me if you’re hiding any information or protecting the person who’s threatened you. Let me find that person behind the crimes.”
“I’d be an idiot to trust you.”
“True. Guess I’ll need to prove my sincerity.” His attention bore into me, and his tone softened. “One more thing.”
Now what? “Go ahead, Denton. You have five minutes left.”
“I broke into your cabin.”
I rose to my feet, fury boiling through my body. “So it was you. You found nothing, so you believe I’m innocent? Time to leave.”
“I have four minutes left. Please, Shelby, sit.”
“I’ll stand, thank you. Make your miserable excuse fast.” I gathered up Joy from her box. I needed something to hold on to.
“While I was here, someone shoved an envelope under the door. I attempted to follow him or her but lost the trail.”
“Where’s—?”
“I opened it. Read it, a greeting card personalized to the Pearce family expressing sympathy regarding your suicide.”
I was seldom taken aback by the depravity of human beings, but my mouth went dry. “I want to see the handwriting on the card.”
“Sheriff Wendall has it.”
“You gave my property to him?”
Denton paused, and I assumed he was grappling for words. “Not intentionally. Your past shows an issue with acute depression, and I didn’t see any reason to trigger the problem again. I showed the card to him, told him of my FBI position, and he kept it.”
I paced the room, too upset to pray. “You’re my keeper? Do you think by coming here tonight with this crazy story that I’d believe your nonsense? Or are you concerned if I gave in to suicide, you’d never be able to find the money?”
“Nothing along those lines. I wanted to protect you from making a terrible mistake.”
“Really? Is this a new method of FBI interrogation?” The man had hurt me. More like I’d allowed him to crawl inside my head... and maybe my heart. “What does Sheriff Wendall intend to do with my card?”
