bewildered. She moved her mouse, clicking on something else before typing once again.
“Um. I…don’t have access to it.” She stood. “You’re gonna have to talk to the chief.”
She strode off out of sight down the hall, and Reagan looked up at me. “This is a pretty straightforward request. Strange that it needed to go through the chief.”
“Agreed.”
She grinned. “We may have been more successful if you’d just walked in here alone and used your considerable charm.”
I knew she was joking around, but something about the thought of it actually made me uneasy. I didn’t like the idea of flirting or “using my charms” on anybody but Reagan.
Chief Dawson walked out, then. Or more like sauntered out, a smirk planted firmly on his extremely punchable face.
He’d been a condescending jackass when we’d had run-ins in the past. Of course, I’d been a teenage punk…but it looked like only one of us had moved on from our past personas.
“Well, well. I knew I’d see you walk back through my doors one day, Comfort. I just never thought it’d be under your own steam.”
I forced myself to smile, even though my teeth were gritted together so hard I thought my jaw might just snap. Still, I didn’t need to make Dawson my enemy. Not over some stupid petty shit like his fucking terrible personality.
Eye on the prize. Remember why you’re here. This is about Mama. Not you.
All good advice, delivered to me straight from the rational part of my brain. Also, of course, all of it was easier said than done…but I was determined.
“Good to see you, too, Chief. How’s the family?”
“Real good. Real, real good. I was real sorry to hear ’bout your daddy. James Comfort and I may not’ve always seen eye to eye, but he was a real fine man, come down to it. Sorry I couldn’t make the service, but I heard the reception was…colorful.”
I stiffened. My father’s death was still a raw subject with me, and hearing his name in Dawson’s mouth made my gut churn with rage. Still, I was here for a purpose and wouldn’t let myself get derailed. “Thank you.”
Dawson crossed the room to me, taking his time. When he reached me, he put a paternal hand on my shoulder, twisting his face into a mask of fake concern. “Now, son, Sharla here tells me you’re asking about your mama’s accident.”
Sharla! Right. I was close.
“I am.”
“Now, what do you want to go digging up the past for, Billy? You know what they say about sleeping dogs, don’t you? You should let them lie.”
All of the anger that I’d been holding at bay rushed through me. I took a step toward him. “So in this scenario, my mama’s a dog?”
“Now, son, listen here—”
“He’s not your son.”
My head snapped around, surprised at Reagan’s voice, smoothly cutting the chief off in the middle of his sentence.
When I glanced back to see his reaction to the interruption I saw his bushy eyebrows shooting up so fast I thought they might just fly right off his face. When he spoke, his molasses drawl was even thicker than normal, a sure sign he was pissed off. “What did you just say to me?”
“That he’s not your son. He’s a citizen. Requesting information that is part of the public record. This is not a discussion. It’s a requisition.” She smiled sweetly. “Now, are there any copying fees that need to be paid?”
His eyes flashed and for the first time since I’d known him, I saw how he could be intimidating. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
His voice had lowered, becoming almost threatening, but when Reagan answered him, hers was still smooth as silk. “No, I don’t think I will, actually. Now, are you going to help? Or are we going to go in front of a judge?”
They stood there in silence for a long moment. I marveled at the showdown. Dawson’s face and body language made him an open book. It was like a thundercloud was steadily forming around him, getting closer and closer to bursting with every passing second. His eyes narrowed, his face reddened. The vein in his neck bulged.
Reagan, on the other hand, just stood still, the expression on her face pleasantly passive, waiting for his response.
He was showboating with a display of so-called strength, and she was standing back and doing what looked like nothing, but it was clear as day who had the upper hand. He was losing control and she had an iron grip on it.