Final Verdict

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Beckett.” The way she said his name. A plea. A question. Hopeful eyes bored into his.

  “Fine. I’ll roll the rest of your food and dessert outside.”

  Aurora grabbed the mousse cup. “It’s here now. No point in it going to waste.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “How do you know I like chocolate? You said you knew I did.”

  If he told her that he’d smelled it on her earlier, it might come across creepier than it was. “Good guess.”

  “Mmm-mmm.” She scooped a mountainous bite and closed her eyes. “Great guess,” she said with satisfaction. He chuckled and rolled the cart outside, but something she’d said had struck a chord. Did he think he was God? Not in a literal sense, of course. He knew he was only a man. Flawed and bone and flesh. But when it came to work, was he only being an agent of justice or was he indeed trying to act as judge and jury? He’d almost put to death the man who had murdered his fiancée. He hadn’t seen himself as a judge but emotionally outraged, which had sent him spiraling into a dark place. Terrified him.

  But now...

  It needled him, but he shrugged it aside and focused on the strawberry blonde finally showing signs of easing into relaxation.

  Aurora Daniels. Tough. Shrewd. And a chocoholic. Whatever was he going to do with her? What was he going to do about these crazy feelings cropping up?

  * * *

  Aurora finished her mousse, and, though she’d never admit it to Beckett, it’d hit the spot. While she was still emotionally exhausted and—if she was being honest—spiritually exhausted, too, she’d had a burst of physical energy and was ready to comb through Kelly’s personal items, which Beckett had brought with him.

  She’d pummeled Beckett, and shame crept into her cheeks. What right did she have to act spoiled like that? To take out her hurt on him? But he’d let her. He’d stood there quiet, tender yet strong and towering while she sliced him with her words about his department...about him personally. Only when she’d dinged his compassion had he shown any signs of prickled skin.

  He’d shown her as much compassion in the last three days as anyone in her entire life had. Beckett the law enforcer wasn’t the same as Beckett the man. Or was he? He’d been protecting her, doing due diligence as sheriff.

  A man had taken the life of his greatest love, right before they were supposed to spend forever on earth together. Aurora was nothing short of callous. Insensitive. Where was her compassion?

  “Counselor?” Beckett called from across the room, a cardboard box in his arms. “Everything all right?”

  No. Nothing was right. Aurora wasn’t sure anything would be right again, but she had to buck up, pull up her proverbial bootstraps. “I’m fine.” Just feeling terrible about how she’d been treating him. A man who’d been wounded. No wonder he was swift to stamp guilty on every person he put cuffs on. He’d seen evil up close and personal. His future had been ripped out from under him at the hands of a vicious killer.

  What about Aurora? She was equally guilty, but Beckett hadn’t condemned her. Instead, he’d reminded her she was innocent, without blame. If only that were true.

  He laid the box on the edge of the bed. He’d showered and his short-cropped walnut-colored hair had curled, his five-o’clock shadow adding mystery to him and emphasizing his thick lips. She tried to ignore the way his flannel shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, exposing muscled forearms under his naturally olive skin, and what it did to her pulse. She fought off the urge to stare, to drool like an infatuated teenager.

  “I’ve been thinking about how it all happened. Someone Kelly knew must have been her killer. How else would he have gotten inside so easily?” Aurora asked. “She would have screamed. Called for help.” Better to stay focused on the task at hand. But when he closed the distance between them, his fresh shower scent clouded her senses.

  Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not necessarily. Not if the killer had any kind of military experience. I could easily have done it. If he’d caught her off guard or moved fast, with a certain hold she wouldn’t have had the ability to scream, and if he’d used a technique to knock her out first—a maneuver to a pressure point—it would have been silent. Quick. Painless.”

  Aurora dropped her jaw.

  Beckett winced. “I didn’t mean to give you a visual, but it is possible. With her office being on the ground floor, he could have come through a window and been waiting for her.”

  “Like at my house.”

  “Right. He could have done the unlocking in the middle of the night. Who checks their windows in the morning? Then he came back later and it would have been easy to raise it without being heard.”

  Aurora pawed her face, the horrific visions of Kelly’s last moments plaguing her to nausea. She gulped, then plunged a shaky hand into the box, retrieving a leather daily planner and opening it. “Did you get her phone?”

  Beckett pulled out a plastic evidence bag. “Yeah. You know the password?”

  “Try Hotty Toddy.”

  “Serious? An Ole Miss chant?”

  “Chant. Cheer. Greeting. She was serious about the Rebels.” Aurora flipped to this week’s dates. Kelly had the best handwriting. She paused. “That’s odd.”

  “What is it?” Beckett had Kelly’s phone in hand. Guess he wasn’t too worried about his prints ending up on it. But latex gloves wouldn’t work on the touch screen. “And I’m in.”

  Aurora wasn’t sure it was anything other than strange. “She had an appointment with Oliver Benard. He’s the—”

  “Partner at your old firm in Chicago, and the number you’re avoiding on your phone. Does he have personal ties to Kelly?”

  Aurora sat stunned. “You know all this? I’m not sure if I should be frightened or relieved.” She shook her head. “How are you aware of all this?”

  “I did a check because it’s what I do. It’s who I am. And I noticed his name pop up on one of those unanswered calls. So...” He shrugged. “Did he know Kelly, too?”

  “No. I mean, he knew I had a mentor and that she lived here. But, as far as a personal relationship, no.” Why would she have an appointment with Oliver?

  “When was the appointment?” Beckett asked.

  “Yesterday.”

  Beckett scrolled through Kelly’s phone. “Several calls from Oliver Benard over the past week. What time was the appointment?”

  “Eleven a.m. Doesn’t say where. Any calls from him after that?”

  Beckett scanned the phone. “No. Did she have court cases after that time?”

  “No.” Had the killer known that? No one would come looking for her in her chambers if she wasn’t expected in court. “I wonder if Kelly showed for that appointment and it got her killed.”

  “If Oliver is behind this, he had time to follow us, cut the chain, drive back to Richfield for his appointment and kill Kelly.” Beckett put the phone away.

  But why would Oliver Benard want to kill Kelly? What could she possibly know or say that would lead him to murder her. “I should have answered his calls.” She might have been able to stop him if he’d had something to do with Kelly’s death. Another sharp stab of guilt gouged her ribs, grinding and cutting.

  “Did she mention him at all?” Beckett asked.

  “Only to tell me to answer his calls. That he might be extending me some grace.” Aurora closed the planner.

  “Is there any other reason he might be calling you now?”

  “His son was murdered on February fifteenth, two years ago. That’s a little over a week away.”

  Beckett’s eyes turned to slits. “I don’t like it. I’m not saying he couldn’t be calling to offer you grace. But more than likely, he wants to get close to you.”

  Aurora swallowed.

  Close enough to kill?

 
SIX

  It was Monday morning and Aurora’s gloves, coat and scarf weren’t enough to keep out the cold front in her bones since Kelly’s death on Friday.

  She sat in the passenger seat of Beckett’s Tahoe. He was taking her home to retrieve more clothing and toiletries. He’d been on her like white on snow all weekend as they worked through the case. Turned out the writing on the wall in Kelly’s chambers had been spray paint. And the only thing Aurora noted missing was a wooden gavel she’d given Kelly as a Christmas present that sat on her desk, but she could have taken it home.

  Beckett had tried to question Trevor Russell, but Trevor’s father said he was out of town. Needed some space. Seemed a little convenient.

  Aurora had met with Kelly’s son on Saturday and helped him make arrangements for the funeral, which was taking place tomorrow morning.

  Beckett cranked up the heat in his Tahoe. They’d left The Black-Eyed Pea, where, in his typical demanding way, Beckett had forced Aurora to eat something, but Aurora didn’t have the fight to complain. She’d choked down half a hot, open-faced roast beef sandwich and a cup of vegetable soup. Which seemed to satisfy Beckett enough that he didn’t order a dessert.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  No amount of heat would shake off the chill. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ve been thinking. It might be best not to call Oliver Benard. If you’ve declined his calls this long, it would seem suspicious you calling now.”

  Aurora rubbed the edges of her scarf between her fingers. “I don’t know why he was calling, but Oliver wouldn’t murder Kelly.”

  Beckett turned left on Maplewood.

  “Where are we going?” Aurora asked. “I thought you were taking me home.”

  Beckett undid a butterscotch wrapper with his teeth and popped it in his mouth. “So, my mom heard about Judge Marks. And she knows you and she are tight...”

  “Okaaay.”

  “She made you chocolate muffins.”

  “Ha! I knew it.” She lightly pounded her fist on her thigh in victory.

  Beckett crinkled his nose. “Knew what?”

  “You didn’t force me to eat dessert. Now I know why.”

  Beckett grimaced. “I don’t force you to do anything.”

  “‘Eat your eggs.’ ‘Eat your soup before it gets cold.’ ‘We’re not leaving until you eat.’ ‘Get in the car.’ ‘Sit down.’ ‘Stay here.’ I’m not sure if you see me as a person or a pet.” She was half joking, but she’d never met anyone so commanding.

  Beckett turned into a small graveled drive that led to a cozy, cottage-style home. He turned off the engine and directed his attention to Aurora. “One, I want you to keep your strength up, and you haven’t been eating enough. Soldiers who don’t eat get weak. They fall behind. They make poor or rash decisions—”

  “I’m not a soldier. I’m a defense attorney.” She held his gaze.

  “Not right now. You’re in a war, Counselor. As bad as I hate to say it, an enemy is after you and it’s scary. I know you feel a heavy weight on your shoulders, and I’m trying my best to help you carry it. I don’t have time for pretty prose.”

  “You think using considerate words is pretty prose? Ha!” But Aurora’s heart tripped at the words he’d used before that remark. Part fear, part something she didn’t want to pinpoint or deal with. Long ago, she’d heard a preacher say Jesus wanted to carry her burdens. She’d never figured out how to transfer them from her shoulders to His, so eventually she’d stopped trying. Beckett was right. She did feel a heavy weight. “I appreciate all your help. And your mom’s muffins.”

  “Which you’ll eat.”

  She glared. “Pretty prose, please.”

  He graced her with a killer smile. “Which I hope you’ll eat.”

  Aurora wanted to fan herself. In winter. It wasn’t lack of food that might send her into making a rash or poor decision. It was Beckett Marsh’s grin. Mercy, it was billboard worthy. “I will.”

  At the front stoop, he turned the knob and opened the door, but before they went inside he gently caught her arm, bringing her back against his chest, the scent of spice and pine swirling through her senses. He pressed his mouth to her ear, close enough for his breath to tickle her neck. “When I see you, Counselor, the last thing I see is a pet. I promise you that.” His voice had turned husky, tickling her side. What did he see?

  Her throat dried out, and she refused to ask for fear she might like the answer entirely too much for her own good.

  “Beck! Is that you?” A sweet voice filled the air, along with cocoa and cinnamon. Already, Aurora adored Mrs. Marsh.

  She might adore her son a little more than she should, too.

  Beckett’s mom came into view. Aurora had never officially met her, but she’d seen her at church the handful of times Aurora had gone. Tall and slender, Virginia Marsh shared her son’s eyes: amber irises with thick, ebony limbal rings rimming them. Her hair had a few streaks of gray and was a bit darker brown than Beckett’s. Her lips weren’t as plump and her teeth weren’t as straight. But she was a striking woman.

  “Miss Daniels, it’s a pleasure. Please come in. I was so sorry to hear about Judge Marks. She was such a sweet woman. Let me take your coat, hon.”

  “Thank you.”

  Beckett helped her shrug out of her coat, and she tried not to tremor when his warm hand reached the small of her back and guided her into the kitchen toward the smell of coffee and muffins as big as his fist. “Oh, those look fantastic.”

  “They’re my specialty, and Beckett said you were a big fan of chocolate.” She gave him a sideways glance, and he turned his head and rubbed his ear. Aurora found it adorable.

  “I mentioned I thought you might like chocolate,” Beckett mumbled, and pulled out a chair for Aurora. “Cream and sugar in your coffee?”

  Virginia blinked deliberately a few times. “You might ask her if she wants some first?”

  Beckett huffed like a child being scolded and turned to Aurora. “You want coffee, Counselor?”

  She almost said no to ruffle his feathers but, instead, nodded. “Cream and sugar since it’s clear you’re going to fix it for me.”

  “You want to pour your own cup?” Impatience lined his face and Aurora relished the moment. Getting under his skin. Seeing him squirm. A tough guy with a mama’s boy’s heart. Oh, what it did to hers.

  “No. I think I’ll sit right here and tell you how to do it.”

  His rich eyebrows slowly stretched upward, and if she wasn’t so sensible, she might think his gaze held a measure of flirtation.

  Mrs. Marsh chuckled and brought the tray of muffins to the table. Aurora helped herself to one, still warm. Decadent. Delicious. “These are wonderful.”

  “Take them with you—they make your whole house smell good.” She handed Aurora a napkin.

  “My whole house? I’m—”

  “Gonna down them before she gets the chance to use them as potpourri, Mama.” Beckett gave her the eye, and Aurora refrained from finishing her thought. Beckett didn’t want his mother to know about the threats, that Aurora was in danger, therefore putting Beckett in danger, as well. Protecting his mother from worry.

  “He’s right about me eating them before we ever make it to the car. I can eat a lot.”

  Beckett snorted. “You need to eat more.”

  She ignored him and focused on Mrs. Marsh. “You have a lovely home.” Worn. Certainly dated from the late eighties, but the atmosphere felt like love. Like home. Like a place ought to. Unlike the house she had been raised in. A house and a home were two different things. Beckett’s dad may have left them and they might have struggled financially, but he’d had something Aurora hadn’t. A home.

  Beckett eased into a seat at the table.

  Mrs. Marsh beamed. “Thank you. Now that I
’m retired, all I have to do is tidy the place. But I’ve lived here my whole life. Can’t imagine going anywhere else. Plus, it’s nice having Beck home and close.”

  “Mama, you’re being modest.” He grabbed a muffin. “Mama works for the homeless shelter in downtown Memphis twice a week, and she’s helping the Women’s Club with the Valentine’s Dinner and Dance to raise money for St. Jude.”

  Nothing short of respect and admiration danced over Beckett’s face. He was proud of his mother, as he should be. Aurora had never been proud of hers. Another slice of shame to add to her list. She sipped her coffee. “I need you at the café, Mrs. Marsh. This is great coffee.”

  “Virginia, hon. Call me Virginia. And thank you.”

  “Virginia.” Aurora noticed photos of Beckett on the picture ladder leaning on the wall in the dining room. Handsome in his navy uniform.

  Virginia followed the direction of her sight. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to trust God more than when Beck was in the navy, the SEALs. Never knowing where he was or if he was in one piece. Gone for nine months to a year sometimes. Like I said, it’s nice having him home and safe. All this gray hair—” she pointed to her head “—from Beck and his dangerous missions. A mama worries.”

  “That must have been difficult and, yet, how proud you must be to have such a brave, giving son to dedicate his life to keeping others safe.” Aurora checked out Beckett, who was paying more attention than necessary to his muffin. Compliments must be tough for him to handle. But he was brave and self-sacrificing. If she kept going down this line of thinking, she’d faint dead out of her chair.

  “I am very proud. It’s also nice to not fret. I’m getting too old for that.” She laughed.

  Beckett patted her hand. “Mama, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Aurora caught the flash of something in his eyes. Was he thinking about Wilder’s offer? She switched topics. “So, how are things going with the Valentine’s Day Dinner and Dance? I’ve never been, but I always donate. St. Jude does so much for children.”

  The strain in the room calmed.