held her stare for a moment, waffling between pushing his agenda and letting her have her way. Since they still had the task of searching her father’s home office and anywhere else in the house she thought might prove worthy of attention, he backed off. For now.
“Three p.m. Got it.” He glanced at the digits glowing from the dashboard. 11:14. That left plenty of time to conduct a search, keep Pen with him long enough to have the conversation he wanted to have and still get her to the church to pick up her kid.
His heart drubbed a slow, heavy beat. He rather hoped he had an excuse to go with her to pick up Nicholas. He was curious to see how big Andrew’s son was now and reconnect with the boy. Not that he expected the kid to remember him. Nicholas was still a baby last time Reid had seen him.
“Nicholas must be talking pretty well by now. Does he—”
“Why are you turning here?” Another quick change of subject and determined look. “The turnoff to my dad’s street isn’t for another mile.”
“Fewer traffic lights this way.”
She shrugged and turned back to the window.
“So, Nicholas...” This time he let his words trail off, allowing her to fill in the blank. Or not.
“Is none of your business.”
He frowned and scoffed a laugh. “Ouch.”
She drew a breath and faced him with narrowed eyes and a dented brow. “This is not a social outing. You lost the right to personal information and any relationship with my son when you killed my husband.” He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she raised a silencing hand. “Correction. You lost that right when you accused Andrew of being corrupt. Of stealing drugs from the evidence room or whatever cockamamy bull you dreamed up!”
“It wasn’t bull. At least I had good reason to believe what I said at the time.” Reid braked for a stop sign at a busy intersection and had to give his attention to traffic. Once he’d pulled onto the crossroad, he shook his head and gave Pen a pleading look. “Listen, this is a conversation we need to have. But we’re almost to your father’s place. Can we put a pin in it and—”
“It’s the next turn on the right. Where the brick entry gate is,” she said unnecessarily, but again effectively cutting him off.
He sighed and let the matter drop. For now.
Because they were at Hugh Barrington’s estate, he would need to stay on his toes and not raise any red flags as to why he was there with Hugh’s estranged daughter.
Reid pulled in the long driveway to the redbrick mansion, and when he would have parked on the section that circled near the front door, she directed him to the back. At his querying look, she offered, “I’d rather not call attention to the fact that we’re here.”
From the front, everything about the Barrington estate was symmetrical, formal and unimaginative. The house was little more than a large brick box with an equal number of windows on either side of the main ground-level entrance. Boxy shrubs framed the entry, and black shutters were the only relief to the three-story brick edifice.
Reid glanced around the backyard. The swimming pool was still crystal clear and free of leaves despite the December chill. He knew the detached four-car garage contained at least one antique Rolls-Royce—a status symbol Hugh liked to show off at high-society events. But Reid was unfamiliar with the cottage sitting behind the main house. In all the years Hugh Barrington had been Eldridge’s lawyer, Reid had only been to this house a few times, and then always through the front door for dinner parties that kept him in the formal guest areas. As he studied the smaller house, deciding if it was a pool house or something else, one of the venetian blinds swayed and a shadow crossed the window.
He nodded his head toward the cottage. “What’s that building?”
“That’s where Stanley lives.”
The name rang a bell, and Reid searched his memory. “Stanley?”
“Father’s butler.”
“He lives on-site?” That shouldn’t surprise Reid. After all, Aaron Manfred, the Colton family butler, and his wife, Moira, lived in the staff wing of the mansion at Colton Valley Ranch. He’d simply not realized Barrington had any of his house staff living on the grounds.
“Of course he does. Where else would my father’s right-hand man live?”
He heard more than a little sarcasm in her tone. Maybe even some hurt. And he had to admit, he was a tad surprised by the idea behind her sentiment. “Your father is especially close to Stanley?”
She cut a startled look toward him. “I just mean he trusts Stanley like no other person in his life. If my father weren’t such a snob, he might even call Stanley his best friend. He depends on him. Heavily. And having his butler living right behind his house seemed a no-brainer to my father.”
But he could tell from the tension in her body and her tone that she wasn’t nearly as unconcerned about her father’s reliance on his butler as she pretended. Perhaps what he sensed was jealousy? Was she upset that the butler had the trust and closeness she’d never had with Hugh? Or that Hugh had never had with her mother?
Turning to the gym bag he kept in the backseat of his truck, Reid unzipped a side pocket and fished out a flash drive, a small flashlight and a screwdriver. Just in case. Jamming all three in his pockets, he followed Pen to the back door where she punched in a code on the security system, receiving a quiet beep from the door pad signaling admittance.
“You’ve been gone from this house for how many years? And your father hasn’t changed the security code?”
She gave another one-shoulder shrug. “He did change it once a few years ago. But he couldn’t remember the new code after years of the same one, and he kept setting off the alarm when he put in the wrong numbers. He gave up and went back to the old code after three months.”
“And you know this how? I thought you weren’t on good terms with your dad.”
“With my dad, no. His maid, yes. After my mother got sick, Helen and I became closer. We still talk every now and then.”
Reid glanced back out to the butler’s cottage. Had the blinds moved again? He couldn’t shake the prickling sense that they were being watched. As a detective with the Dallas PD, he’d learned to trust his gut instincts. More often than not, that sixth sense was correct. He may not be with the police department anymore, but he still had his training, his experience and the instincts from his years on the job. “You had me park in the back to avoid attention, but we’ve been seen nonetheless.”
“Seen?” Pen jerked up her head, sending him a look of dismay, then shot a glance around the backyard. “By who—”
Reid put a hand on her shoulder and moved to block her view. “No, don’t look. You’ll only look more suspicious. Carry yourself in a manner that says you have every right to be here, that you don’t care who sees you.”
She straightened her back. “I do have a right to be here. It’s my childhood home. I—” She stopped,
