Not until she woke in the bright light of day and found herself naked in his bed.
Mason ordered and tacked on another round of beers to be delivered with his dinner.
“Everyone has some kind of temper. Everyone gets angry.” His gaze met hers with total focus now.
“Yeah.”
“What did Bruce do when he got mad?”
She wanted the truth as badly as he did, so she met his eyes. Tried to recall a time when her husband had been in a bad mood, or upset about something. Other than when she’d told him she was leaving, of course. That had been a once-in-a-lifetime bad morning for both of them—inarguably the worst of her life. She’d said things, called him a loser, with colorful language attached. Her only comfort in the whole situation was that at three months old, Brianna had been too young to understand her words. Or remember them.
“You know Bruce,” she finally said. “He’s always so self-assured, so confident. If something doesn’t go his way, he looks for the bright side, sure he’ll find one, and then convinces everyone else that the darkness is gone, too.”
“I asked about his anger.”
She had a flash of the time a prosecutor had refused to press charges after Bruce had worked six months to make an arrest. She explained the circumstances, then said, “He sat for over an hour with this…chiseled look on his face, staring at a blank television screen. His jaw was clenched. Whenever I walked by the room, he’d still be sitting there, staring. Eventually he got up, told me he was going out for a while, and he left. When he came back, he was more subdued than normal, but still easy to get along with. He helped me make dinner.”
Mason’s expression was intent. “Do you have any idea where he went? What he did when he was gone?”
She shook her head. “I assumed he went in to work. That’s what he normally did when he had something to sort out. He’d talk to Clark or other people at the precinct.”
“But you don’t know if he did that day?”
“Like I said, it was my day off, so no, I wasn’t there to witness his presence or conversations.”
“Do you remember anyone ever mentioning that he’d been there? Or hearing anything about the conversation?”
She shook her head again.
“What about the case? The prosecutor? Did anything change? Were charges eventually pressed?”
“Not for dealing. He got him on possession, though—with enough drugs to put him in prison for a while.” That was how Bruce worked. He found a way. “If something prevented an outcome he needed, he came at it from another direction.”
Shouldn’t be news to Mason.
“What about at work? Did he have a reputation for getting physical with his perps?” He frowned. “Roughing them up, I mean.”
“No. He’s tough, you know that. He’s not afraid to stand up to anyone if he believes the action is warranted. He doesn’t shy away from danger or back down. He’d blast a guy with words. But I never heard of a single instance of him doing anything more than not putting cuffs on gently. You know, maybe lift a guy’s arm a little high on his back, or put the cuffs on tight. But nothing compared to some other cops. He never shoved or struck anyone that I ever heard of.”
His food arrived and she sat back, figuring they’d relax now. She really wasn’t aware of anything that would help him. If she’d had any concerns about Bruce having anger or violence issues, she’d never have left Brianna with her father overnight. Or unsupervised.
“And at home? When he got angry at home, what did he do?”
“He didn’t mince words in letting me know I’d pissed him off. He raised his voice sometimes. Then he’d usually leave for a while and when he got back, he’d have calmed down enough for rational conversation. We’d talk about it, and things would be fine.”
“Where did he go when he left? Did you ever ask?”
Harper shrugged. “Not really. I wanted to give him his space.” She paused. “I got the impression that he drove around for a while. Or, if it was evening, that he went up to the bar for a couple of beers. So I didn’t ask.” Truth was, she’d been glad that Bruce had taken his anger out of the house. He’d always been ready to talk fairly when he’d returned.