Your apology isn’t going to change the circumstances of Jed’s death.
He was shot because he was wearing that damned overcoat and he died in my arms. Damn you, I’m not your priest and I will not offer you absolution.”
He was holding himself so rigid Allison was afraid he would snap if he moved. She set her hand on his back, and drew her palm in a slow circle between his shoulder blades. At the moment, it was the only balm she could offer. She wasn’t even certain he felt her hand on his back because his inflexible posture didn’t change and he didn’t acknowledge her attempt to ease his anger.
“I’m not trying to salve my conscience. Frankly, I don’t think there are enough acts of contrition to grant me absolution.” Harrison limped across the room to the sideboard and poured a full tumbler of alcohol. “I will say what I was going to say. I’m not sure I could have done what you did.”
The tensed, knotted muscles under her hand
loosened. A.J. dropped his gaze for a moment, and then slowly lifted his head. “Why are you limping?”
“Nice change of subject,” Harrison said. “I broke my leg a couple of years ago. It bothers me a lot when it’s cold. Now, to change the subject again, why don’t the both of you tell me why there’s a reward for your apprehension on murder charges?”
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