“Yes,” she muttered into his chest, “it is. She’s dead because of me. Read the writing on the wall. Literally.”
Beckett heaved a sigh and put a foot of distance between them, lifting her chin. “You are not guilty or to blame. I need to call in the crime-scene unit. If you want to get a drink of water or step away, that’ll be all right. In fact, you really ought to.”
Aurora shook her head. “No, I’d like to stay. I won’t impede the investigation.”
He massaged a scruffy cheek. “I have to call a deputy in. I know you want to stay, but we don’t need to be here alone.”
She nodded. “Yes, of course. You’re right. Anyone could say I tampered with evidence. Call in the deputy. Let him log who comes in and out.”
“And I need to call the coroner,” Beckett murmured. He made the calls as they stood in the hallway. “We’ll have to send what we find through the lab in Memphis. Could take a while, but we won’t stop until we find who did this.”
“No, we won’t.” She leaned her head against the concrete wall. “You don’t think Trevor Russell could have done this, do you?”
“I wasn’t ruling him out with the attacks and phone calls, but to murder Kelly in cold blood...it doesn’t feel like something he’d do. But...whoever did this knows you were close to Kelly. Wanted to possibly make you feel the same grieving misery they felt. Trevor does ring that bell.”
“Whoever killed Gus McGregor might want me to know I’m guilty for digging into the case. He wants me to stop while I’m ahead or more people will die.” Aurora couldn’t quit. Not now. More than ever her brother needed vindication, and Kelly’s murderer needed to be brought to justice. “I need to call Kelly’s son.” Once again someone was dead because of her. And there was no running away this time.
FIVE
Beckett didn’t know what to say to make Aurora’s pain go away. To make her see this wasn’t her fault. He knew better than anyone you couldn’t change a person’s mind or heart from believing what it wanted. The terror and sorrow pulsing from her eyes seared into his chest. He now had two cases that involved Aurora—finding who had targeted her and who had killed Judge Kelly Marks. His gut screamed they were one and the same.
The coroner arrived, along with one of Beckett’s deputies and two techs.
“Can you tell me the cause of death?” Due to bruising around the neck area, Beckett suspected strangulation.
James Wheaton, a man in his sixties, examined Kelly and backed up Beckett’s suspicions. “I’ll know more once we get her to the morgue.”
Aurora flinched as they claimed Kelly’s body. Outside, a crowd had already congregated. News media snapped photos. Someone must have heard the call on the scanner or leaked it. The thought that one of his own people might be sharing confidential information—like the brand of whiskey Austin Bledsoe had been drinking—sent a wave of nausea through him.
Beckett worked with the county crime techs. While they photographed and dusted for prints, he riffled through Kelly’s office drawers and day planner. He placed several items into evidence bags. Aurora might recognize anything out of the ordinary. Someone had broken in and managed to kill Judge Marks without anyone hearing and without a struggle. Other than a few papers on the floor, it appeared Kelly had let the murderer walk in and kill her. Which brought his next thought. Had Kelly been murdered, then staged in the chair? If he was in the room when she came in the door, he could have been behind it and gotten the jump on her, then placed her in the chair and painted the walls. It was too red to be blood, and Kelly, from all appearances, had no other injuries. It was times like this he wished they’d had security cameras at the courthouse. But that was small towns. No one expected something like this to happen.
Aurora sat on a wooden bench in the hall.
“Did you call Kelly’s son?”
“Yes. He’s on his way.” She stretched her neck as she massaged it.
“What did you tell him?” He set the evidence box down and nestled beside her.
“That I found her dead in her chambers. Homicide. And that it could relate to my brother’s case or a case I handled recently.” Her phone rang and Beckett peeped at the screen. Oliver Benard. Benard. He was one of her previous colleagues at the Chicago law firm. Was that the man who’d been calling and she’d been avoiding?
“Might ought to answer.”
Aurora switched her phone to decline and resumed resting her head on the wall. “Kelly’s son says it could connect to one of her cases I tried and lost. But I know that’s not true, and when it comes to light, he’ll hate me. It’s my fault his newborn baby won’t know her grandmother.”
Against his better judgment, he loosed the cell from her hand and enveloped her fingers in his. She didn’t pull away and that set off a new sensation. One that shouldn’t be going off. Especially now. He was only comforting her. But that one acceptance comforted him. “If you were a client on trial, what would you use as the defense?”
Aurora rubbed her temple with her free hand, but continued to let him hold on to her other. “I’d tell the jury that I couldn’t be held responsible for someone else’s actions.”
“Then you need to accept your own representation. For once, you’re right.”
Aurora opened one eye and slid him a glance. “Kelly was my only constant.”
An urge to proclaim he’d be a constant in her life threatened to slip from his mouth, but he forced it down. “Let’s get you to the inn. You could use some rest, and then we can grab some dinner and if you feel up to it, go through this box of stuff I retrieved from her chambers.”
“You want me to go through possible evidence?”
“Do you plan on defending the man who did it?”
A scowl answered his rhetorical question.
“It’s not like you’re investigating, Aurora. You’re going through a good friend’s effects. And if something pops, you tell me and I’ll handle the investigating. It won’t mess with the case. It’s no different than if I put together a lineup and you identified an attacker. Basically, if you see something odd, you’re pointing the finger at a suspect in the lineup.”
“That’s a stretch, Sheriff, and you know it. But I’ll buy it. And...if I need to find a way around something—legally, of course—I’ll do it.”
It was further than he had expected to get. “Good.”
“I want to be at the coroner’s office when her son gets into town. I need to be available to help him with arrangements.” Aurora stood, letting her hand slip free from Beckett’s.
“I’ll come, too. Whatever he needs, we’ll make sure he gets.” He collected the box and led Aurora to the Tahoe, then proceeded to the inn. Inside, it was quiet, and the smell of something sweet reminded Beckett he was starving. “I’ll get us rooms for a few more nights. I didn’t think...” She was supposed to be staying with Kelly.
Aurora slipped her upper lip between her teeth and blinked rapidly. “This is a public place. Do you honestly think you need to stay next door to me?”
“I won’t bother you tonight unless...unless you need me.” What a tough pill to swallow. He wanted Aurora Daniels to need him. He needed to be needed. But she had to process. To grieve. Alone.
“You’re not a bother. I just hate dragging you into this. I...” Consideration beamed from her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She was worried about his safety when she was the vulnerable one. “Counselor, don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.” He inched closer. “And I can take care of you, too,” he murmured and hoped for all it was worth that his words were true. He’d failed before.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and she brushed it away before he could. Probably best. He had no business wiping away her tears, touching her in any kind of tender manner. She was off-limits.
; “How about we order room service? I’ll have it delivered to my room and bring you yours.” He wasn’t taking chances. Aurora wasn’t opening her door to anyone but him. Period. End of story.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“All right. But only because I’m too tired to argue with you.”
“You? Too tired to argue?” He lifted an eyebrow, hoping for a smile. A small one, even. She responded with an unamused pout. “Stay here. I’ll go get the rooms.”
“I’m also too tired to point out you’re ordering me around again.” She blew a stray strand of hair from her face.
He chuckled. “Yes, I can see how you’re not pointing that out. Sit tight.” Before she had the chance to object he raised his hands. “That was a suggestion not a command.”
“Doubt that,” Aurora called as he met Keeley McKay at the reception desk, her hair hanging around her collarbone and curious eyes locked on his. Great. He’d gotten the gossipy sister.
“Hey, Sheriff. I saw that you and the defense attorney spent the night here—”
“Separate rooms. There’s nothing romantic about this.” Beckett made sure to keep his gaze cool and his voice firm. He didn’t need either of their reputations sullied. He wasn’t exactly sure where Aurora stood with the Lord, but he’d seen her at church a handful of times and she’d attended a few events with Blair. Either way, Beckett wouldn’t let the town think ill of her. Or him.
“Oh, I know that!” She gave a subtle laugh. “I don’t see the sheriff and the local defense attorney hooking up.”
“No one is hooking up regardless of our occupations.”
“I meant forging a relationship.” She waved off the notion as if it were the most ridiculous thing on the planet. And it was. Still curdled in his gut.
“Poor Judge Marks. Terrible. Is someone after Miss Daniels? I heard about her car getting keyed and that you made a trip over to Trevor Russell’s. I can’t help but think if she’d have let that boy be tried as an adult this might not have happened. I mean he’s not twelve, you know?”
Keeley only echoed what most folks were thinking. What he’d thought. “Well, what’s done is done. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t advertise us staying here.”
“Are the guests safe with her being here? I mean if someone is trying to hurt her.”
“Yes. Best not to alert them and cause a panic, though. It’ll be our secret.”
She seemed to enjoy that. “Well, okay then. I can keep a secret.”
Doubtful. “I’m not sure how many more nights we need. Can you book us for the week? And if anyone comes in wanting our room numbers, you call me immediately and don’t give them out.”
“I won’t.” She gestured to Aurora. “It’s just all so terrible.”
Beckett accepted the key cards. “Yes, it is.” He strode back to Aurora. “We’re all set indefinitely. Let’s go up.” He led Aurora up the stairs and paused at her door. “I’m going to go in first. Do a precautionary check, then you can peruse the menu.”
She stood outside the door while he slid his key card in the lock and entered. Nothing out of place. No one lurking. “Come on in.”
Aurora strode inside and toed off her shoes and socks, then rubbed her upper arms.
Beckett bumped up the heat and grabbed the menu off the cherrywood writing desk. He handed it to her and waited. She rolled her eyes and perched on the edge of the bed, flipping open the leather-bound menu. “I guess I’ll go with the tomato-basil soup and the grilled Gouda cheese sandwich on wheat.” She closed the menu with a dramatic snap. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” He ignored her huffing and puffing, like she was about to blow her top any second. He marched to the phone and ordered her dinner and for himself a grilled salmon po’boy with a side salad and a bowl of tomato-basil soup. And two orders of chocolate mousse.
“I didn’t say I wanted dessert. What if I don’t even like chocolate? You assume, Mr. Take Charge.” Irritated. Cute.
“But I do know you like chocolate. I suppose I could have asked. You would have turned it down, though. You need to fatten up anyway.”
“So now I’m too skinny and stupid to order what I want?” She stood and eyed him. “I call my own shots.”
She was gearing up to unload on him. The tone was unmistakable. He couldn’t help himself and cracked a grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is not for your amusement.”
Beckett had seen wet hens less angry. “No, I see it’s not.” He wasn’t so sure Aurora was fired up at him, but in general. She’d had more trauma than one person deserved in a short amount of time. And, he had to admit, she’d been holding it together better than most grown men. All that pent-up emotion was bound to erupt. But Aurora wasn’t the kind of woman to fall apart at the seams, and he marveled at that. No, sir, he wouldn’t have to pick her up off the floor and put the pieces back together—not that he wouldn’t, and be 100 percent fine with it if she did break—but Aurora had gumption.
She chose to fight instead of cry. Aurora Daniels was born a fighter, and not just in a courtroom. So he let her unload on him. He understood her need and was discovering each day he enjoyed and wanted to be her sounding board.
“And instead of babysitting me, you could be out there catching a killer.” She narrowed her eyes.
He inhaled, ready for the mudslinging to commence. Go ahead, Aurora. Get it out.
“I don’t trust any of your Barney Fifes! Law enforcement always fails. First Richie, now Kelly.” She stomped across the small room, hands flailing. “You should train your people properly. Do more extensive background checks. Pay better or something to get sufficient help.” Up and down the carpet, she wore a path, ranting about his sheriff’s department and its incompetence, her voice pronouncing each word with precision as she made her case, as if these were closing arguments.
Beckett stood statuesque while she channeled all her pent-up anger into him.
“And you! You’re the worst of them all.”
This was getting interesting. He braced himself, ready for her to go for the jugular. Any second—
“You see a criminal in every person that walks the street. You have no mercy. No compassion! You’re a muscled machine...”
Her words flailed fast and furious. No compassion? No mercy? The vulnerable side of him flinched at the barb. He reminded himself she was spouting angry words. She didn’t mean them.
Did she?
“You don’t think I’m compassionate?” He blocked her warpath, unable to contain himself, and she bumped straight into his chest. She raised her head.
“No. I think you think you’re the judge and the jury. Like you’re God or something. You’re not. If it was up to you, you’d lock up boys like Austin Bledsoe, throw away the key and never look back!”
That pumped the heat in his blood up a few degrees. “You mean boys who murder people because they’ve broken the law? Boys who rob families and communities of loved ones? Those boys?”
“I’m not saying he shouldn’t be punished, but you can’t throw him away! You can’t throw Richie away!” she shouted as a sob hiccupped from her lips.
Sympathy for her grieving state cooled his temper. Maybe she meant it. Maybe not. Either way, she was seeing nothing but her deceased brother and being fueled by despair. “Austin,” Beckett whispered. “Not Richie.”
Her cloudy blues cleared and widened. She clamped her hands over her mouth, as if registering she’d crossed a few lines.
A knock sounded through the adjoining room. “Our food’s here.” He left her to grab their dinner, though he’d lost some of his appetite. But if he didn’t eat, he knew she wouldn’t, and she needed it more than he did. The woman couldn’t live off coffee and poached eggs. He pushed the cart to her room.
An empty
room.
“Counselor?”
“I’m in the bathroom. Do I need permission for that, too?”
He sighed. Guess she still had some hissy fit left in her. After removing the lids to the trays, he arranged them at the table for two next to the window. Gave it a second thought and moved the table to the corner of the room. Away from an open shot.
She crept from the bathroom. “I’m terribly sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“It’s no skin off my teeth.” He’d already forgiven her. “Everyone’s entitled to come apart.”
“It’s objectionable.”
“You’re upset.” He gestured to the food, hoping she’d allow him to let her off the hook.
“I’m losing my mind if I can be honest.”
“I’d say you’ve been pretty honest.”
Her cheeks colored. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“Like I said, you’re upset, angry...”
“But that doesn’t mean I can verbally beat you up when all you’ve done is work to protect me. And show me compassion,” she added gingerly, settling in front of the chair. Beckett scooted it to the table, then sat across from her as she laid a white linen napkin on her lap.
“Well, it’s the only way you could beat me up,” he teased. “I am just a muscled machine,” he said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.
She plunged her spoon into her soup and paused. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh, you did.” He took a healthy bite of his sandwich and wiped the corner of his mouth. “Memory of an elephant, remember?”
She guffawed, then took a bite of her sandwich, her stomach growling.
“I knew you were hungry.”
Sighing, she ignored him and they ate in uncomfortable silence. Half a sandwich later, she pushed her plate away. “I’d like to go through Kelly’s things.”
“You should rest.”
Final Verdict Page 7
