“Yeah,” she whispered.

“She gave all she could so we could let it go.”

The tears slid down her cheeks and she repeated softly, “Yeah.”

“The Harrises want us at her funeral.”

She nodded again but her breath snagged.

“They need to see Amy didn’t die for nothing.”

“But she did,” Feb whispered, her lips catching tears and her tongue slid out to clean them way.

“They need to think she didn’t.”

Feb nodded yet again. “We can give them that.”

He pulled her in both of his arms, she stuffed her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight.

“I hate him, Colt,” she said into his neck, her voice thick, clogged, sounding choked.

“I know you do, honey.”

She bunched his blazer in her fists at his back, yanking down on it hard before she sobbed, “God, I hate him.”

He held her until she cried it out and pulled her face out of neck, tipping her head back to look at him. She let him go with one of her hands and wiped her face.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Will be, when this’s over.”

She nodded again and whispered, “Maybe wrong, seein’ as it was the way it was with Denny raping her, but I’m glad you don’t have to live thinkin’ you did what I thought you did.”

Colt helped her wipe her face before he said, “That isn’t wrong, baby.”

She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, sucked in a deep breath that expanded her whole body, Colt settled a hand around the back of her neck and when she let out her breath, she asked his chest, “We still on for Frank’s?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Her breath hitched again and she said, “Missed too much already.”

Colt closed his eyes before he opened them and ordered, “February, look at me.”

She did what she was told and tipped her head back.

“Just as much a waste of time thinkin’ about what life might have brought as it is thinkin’ you can turn back the clock and change things.”

She bit the side of her lip as her eyes slid to the side then she tilted her head and looked back at him. “But you’ve missed dozens of frittatas.”

There she was. There was his girl.

“Just dozens?” he asked.

“You haven’t had my homemade waffles yet. Or my Omelet a la Feb.”

Colt smiled. “Damn, baby, look at me. I’m a forty-four year old man who’s got a life of breakfast delights waiting for him.”

She smiled back, it wasn’t bright but it was something. “Don’t think you don’t have to earn them.”

“I’ll earn ‘em.”

She got up on her toes and touched her lips to his before looking him right in the eye.

“You better.”

* * *

When Colt hit the top of the stairs at the Station he went directly to his desk to drop the envelope on it but nearly stuttered a step when his head swung right and he saw her.

Sully was right. At a glance, Cheryl “Candy” Sheckle was the spitting image of February.

Closer inspection showed she was younger by at least a decade, maybe more and life hadn’t been kind. It also showed her hair was dyed, not natural like Feb’s. She’d had her breasts enhanced, they were larger than Feb’s, didn’t fit her frame, which was tall and attractive. She didn’t have Feb’s style either but she was trying and this was likely because Lowe made her. She had a choker, not like Feb’s or even close, but it was there. The tangle of silver was at her neck and wrists, rings, hoops in her ears. Feb selected her jewelry for a reason that was individual and it stamped her personality on her. This woman had hers selected for her and it was both not as high quality and she didn’t carry it right. Her clothes were too tight but it was the t-shirt, jeans and boots. Again, not the same quality but near enough and she wore these, Colt suspected, because her man liked them, not because she did.

Her brown eyes caught sight of him and surprise flooded her face before she quickly averted her eyes and Colt felt his jaw get tight. She’d been given the same story as Ryan. She knew him and she knew him as a dirty cop.

Sully slid up to him as he dropped the envelope on his desk.

“Everything go all right with Amy’s parents?” he asked.

“Good as it could, considering she sent her suicide notes to them and in them they learned their daughter had been raped by Denny Lowe.”

Sully reared back a few inches before he breathed, “Fuck me.”

Colt got closer and his voice dipped lower. “Kid’s not mine, I didn’t touch her, never had my clothes off, either did she. Kid’s Denny’s.”

Sully’s face got red before he said, “This guy’s like a freakin’ tornado, devastation in his wake.” He looked at the envelope and back at Colt. “The note?”

“Yep, the one to me.”

“Can we use it?”

“Parents’ve given permission.”

“Feb know all this?”

“Just got back from the bar.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Not good but I learned I got waffles and omelets to look forward to, though I gotta earn ‘em so it ended on a high note.”

Sully smiled and it wasn’t with humor but something else. He didn’t make Colt wait long to find out what that something else was.

“You remember that time we were in Winter Park, Lorraine went to bed and you and I decided to see a Colorado sunrise so we stayed up all night drinkin’ and talkin’?” he asked then quickly added something that would give Colt an out if he didn’t want to enter the conversation. “You were pretty hammered.”

He was hammered. Enough to tell Sully everything about Feb, why he loved her and why it cut through the bone when he lost her. Not enough to forget he did it. It was after Melanie left, during the time he was pissed at her for giving up at the same time wondering if he unintentionally gave her some signal that she should.

“I remember.”

“What you said, what Lorraine told me, I still didn’t get it about February. Cold as ice to you. Everyone else, warm and sweet. All that mattered to me, she left and it scarred you.” Sully was still smiling that smile when he said, “Waffles, omelets, a second chance in the middle of a shit storm and a girl who can stand strong through this crazy mess and go to work every day?” He shook his head. “Now, I think I’m gettin’ it.” His smile finally filled with humor. “Better thing though, now you’re gettin’ it.”

Colt shook his head but he did it grinning. “Don’t be rude, Sul.”

“Gotta get you drunk, find out if she wears those chokers to bed,” Sully joked.

“Now you’re pissin’ me off.”

“Man, I’m just sayin’, beware. Everyone wants to know that.”

Before Colt could answer, he heard Nowakowski call, “Lieutenant Colton?”

He automatically looked to the right and saw Cheryl Sheckle glancing around hope in her face or expectation. Happy expectation. She thought her lover was close.

Colt hated to do it but Nowakowski wouldn’t have called his name unless he wanted to make his point so he called back, “Yeah?”

Cheryl’s body locked but her eyes sliced to him. Then the color fled from her face.

“Would you like to assist with this interview?” Nowakowski asked, tipping his head to Cheryl and Cheryl looked at Nowakowski then at Colt, face still white, now her hands were clenched.

What that fucking guy was playing at, Colt had no clue and he wished the asshole would have cued him.

“I’m thinkin’ you got it,” Colt answered wondering how this was, exactly, “taking care of Candy” as he promised Ryan he would do.

“Your call,” Nowakowski lied, it wasn’t Colt’s call at all and he wondered what the bastard would have done if Colt had answered, “Yeah, sure.”

Then Nowakowski motioned toward the hall that led to the interrogation rooms. “Ms. Sheckle, if you would?”

Her movements showed she was forcing them. She’d come in of her own accord thinking this was about the investigation of a dirty cop she was supposedly a part of. Now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be there. Still, she moved and Nowakowski and Warren followed her down the hall.

“Rodman says we’re not allowed to eat popcorn during the interview. Might interfere with the equipment,” Sully whispered as he and Sully followed Rodman into the hall.

Marty had brought in strombolis from Reggie’s for lunch. Colt’s was sitting like a weight in his gut. Popcorn would take him over the edge.

He didn’t answer Sully as they walked into the room next to interrogation two. Cheryl was already seated, her purse on the table by her side. Nowakowski had decided to sit across from her. Warren, younger and far better looking than Nowakowski, was completely different than he was in the interview with Ryan. He was sitting at the side of the table. His pose was relaxed, the tutor there to help with prompts and provide support. Nowakowski was the professor who’d ask difficult questions on a test that, if she failed, she’d be fucked.

Nowakowski opened a folder and pulled out Denny and Marie’s wedding photo, flipped it around and set it down in front of Cheryl. Already pale and visibly uncertain, the wedding photo was an act of cruelty. With one look at her face when she saw the photo, Colt knew she had no idea Denny was married, now or ever.

“Ms. Sheckle, do you know this man?”

Eyes glued to the photo, she swallowed then nodded.

“Who is he?”

“Lieutenant Alec Colton,” she answered then went on hurriedly, her eyes lifting, “I mean, Alexander. His name is –”

“Lieutenant Alexander Colton was standing outside, Ms. Sheckle,” Nowakowski interrupted her. “The tall man with the dark hair. Did you see him?”

She shook her head and looked at Warren then she leaned forward. “Okay,” she started, her voice a loud whisper, “I don’t know what you guys think but that man out there is no good. Okay? Alec told me he’s dirty. You need to find Alec. Something’s wrong.”