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“I’ll take a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble,” Amanda said. “Just black.”
“Not a surprise. And you?” Dennis turned to Trent, and he asked for one too. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room to see to that, and the second he had left his nephew’s sight, Darren let out a wail.
Amanda sat there, conflicted, her internal motherly instincts wanting her to jump up and soothe the boy. The other part feared overstepping. But since when was she so concerned about how her actions would be taken?
Dennis didn’t return to tend to Darren, and Amanda almost wondered if he’d made a run for it. She went to the playpen and ran her fingers along the bars, making a thump, thump, thump noise as she did so.
Darren stopped crying, his soaked lashes beaded with tears, and he looked at her hand as it moved. He then glanced up at her. His chin quivered like he was considering whether to let loose again. Amanda kept doing her thing. The kid’s eyes twinkled, and his frown turned into a smile. Then a giggle.
Amanda relished it for a few beats. The sound of a child’s laughter was something that nothing else could come close to touching. So light and innocent… healing. And I can never have another baby… The thought struck—unexpected and paralyzing. She was left gasping for air and put a hand on her stomach.
“I should have known when he quieted down…” Dennis was back with the coffee, and he extended a mug to her.
“Ah, thanks.”
Dennis gave the other cup to Trent, dipped back into the kitchen, and returned with one for himself. He dropped into the chair that he’d cleared of the toy.
Amanda and Trent sat on a couch across from him.
There was a span of silence. Again, Amanda found herself very much in her head, thoughts of her infertility aside. What was the proper etiquette at seeing someone after this long? Someone whose fate you may have altered. She’d best focus on the bigger picture. She got comfortable and sipped some coffee, letting it calm her. Behold the ironic powers of a stimulant… “What did you tell Felicity Kelley about the Chapman case, Dennis?” she asked, getting right to the point of their visit.
He took his time drawing a few sips of his coffee, then set his mug down on a side table. “Nothing that she couldn’t have found out from scouring the internet.”
She doubted that, but calling Dennis out wouldn’t serve their purpose. They needed him to talk freely. “Can you just tell us what you told her?”
“You said that she was murdered?” Regret and sadness were buried in his tone, but it wasn’t touching his expression or body language.
“She was. In her own home,” Amanda added.
Dennis let out a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair. His gaze was directed on his nephew, but his eyes were blanked over. “She was a smart kid. And talented.”
“Did she tell you why she was interested in the Chapman case?” Trent asked, earning eye contact with Dennis.
“You must think you have part of that answer, considering you’re here. Do you think her poking around got her killed?”
Amanda stiffened. He had known Felicity’s intentions and how dangerous it was for a civilian to get involved with chasing a killer, yet he’d spoken with her. “Was she poking around?” Tossed out nonchalantly, sucking her reserve of diplomacy.
“Well, yeah. She was like a dog with a bone. She had all sorts of questions and even cornered me where I volunteer.”
Thought you were just a glorified babysitter with nothing else to do… “Where is that these days?”
“Gunston Hall, twenty hours a week. My early retirement from the force honestly turned out to be a blessing.”
Then why so much bitterness toward me? The thought struck, and she kicked it out.
“The free time allowed me to think about what I really enjoy,” Dennis added. “I’ve always loved history, and so volunteering at Gunston Hall feels like the perfect fit.”
Amanda was happy that he had found peace but was curious about something else. The articles she’d read about the Chapman home invasion never mentioned Bishop at all. “How did Felicity come to talk to you? How did she even find you?”
“She was a resourceful person. Too smart for her own good, possibly.”
Amanda angled her head. “Come on, Dennis.”
“Fine. She told me she had a contact within the PWCPD—didn’t name them or say whether they were a man or woman. But they told her I had been the lead on the case.”
Dennis told her on the phone that Felicity had come to him easily a year and a half ago, which would be about a month before Amanda had met her. Prior to Felicity asking Amanda if she could call with procedural questions. But whoever this cop was that had shared case information needed to face disciplinary action. Worse consequences if their loose lips had factored into Felicity’s murder.
“You never pressed the matter? This cop not only violated sensitive information but also his or her oath by endangering a civilian,” Trent said.
