“And you are?”
“Oliver Benard.”
NINE
Aurora’s throat clogged. Beckett stood like a strong tower in front of her. She appreciated his attempt to protect her, but he couldn’t be her constant shield.
A verse came to mind about God being her strong tower and refuge in times of trouble. She hadn’t had a decent track record of running to Him in those times.
“I’ve been trying to call you for weeks, Aurora.” Oliver peered around Beckett, and Aurora scooted to the side. Beckett cast his arm out as a barrier.
“Beckett,” she said, and laid her hand on his rock-solid arm. If Oliver meant to harm her, he wouldn’t do it in front of witnesses or in front of Beckett—unless he had a death wish.
Beckett lowered his arm and made a minimal move aside.
“What are you doing here, Oliver?” Aurora asked.
Beckett gave him the glower only Beckett could, and Oliver broke eye contact. “How long have you been in town?” Beckett asked. “Since your meeting with Kelly Marks? You may have been one of the last people to see her alive.”
Oliver might defend scary men, but he’d never been up against Beckett. A swell of pride took residence inside her chest.
“I came into town for that meeting, and I left right after. But I got word she died, and I’m back.” He turned to Aurora. “Kelly was my last resort when you wouldn’t answer or return my calls, Aurora.”
“So why not show up like now? Why go to the judge?” Beckett demanded.
Rather excellent line of questioning, too.
“Because I needed to know Aurora’s mental state.”
“My mental state?” Aurora stepped in front of Beckett. “Oliver, what is going on? Your messages said we needed to talk. They were vague at best, and there was no mention of how I was holding up mentally.”
“Could we talk privately?” He stole a peek at Beckett.
“Not gonna happen, pal.” Beckett folded his arms across his chest.
Oliver huffed. “We can sit right over there at the café, and you, Mr. Whoever You Are, can sit right here and watch us the whole time.”
“Beckett,” Aurora insisted. “I’ll be fine.” She motioned Oliver toward the tables. “I’ll be right there. Order some coffee or something if you like.”
Oliver nodded and strode to a table in the corner.
Beckett leaned down and whispered, “Are you sure? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Except when you tell me to.”
His mouth twitched. “Well, when I tell you what to do, it’s to keep you safe.”
“Blah diddety, blah-blah-blah.” She heaved a sigh.
Beckett chuckled. “And also, I know you haven’t been interested in talking to him. If you’re not ready...you’re not ready. A man should wait for a woman until she is.”
“I’ll remember you said that.” She’d also remember the tingles across her skin this very moment. While he was rough and demanding, Beckett could be quite the gentleman. “I’m ready to talk to him now. I...I want to hear him out. I think he’s on the up-and-up, Beckett.”
He touched her nose. “You’re too good, Counselor. But don’t change,” he said with a muted tone. “Now, go on. I’ll be right here.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” She saluted and turned, then spun back around. “You’re too good, Sheriff. Don’t change.” The way his eyes heated nearly melted her.
Oliver was drumming his thumbs on the table. It was uncomfortable seeing him. Running away, not attending the funeral. Being the sole cause of his sorrow... Shame popped in a flush across her cheeks. “I’m sorry for not coming to Hayden’s funeral. I should have. I’m sorry for many things, Oliver—”
“Aurora, stop.” He laid his hands flat on the table. “I understand why you left. I was angry about it at first. I expected... I don’t know. Nothing you said or did could have changed what happened to my son.”
“But I should have supported you. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You made a mistake, Aurora.” His eyes locked on hers. She waited for flames of anger. Resentment. Judgment.
She found none.
“I know. I was afraid and I ran away from it all.” And here she was, not escaping it. Oliver was in her face, forcing her to acknowledge those mistakes, and for what? “Why are you here? Why now?” She scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned in. “You know how this appears, Oliver, right? You are an attorney.”
“I didn’t kill Kelly Marks. Your friend over there is probably right. I may have been the last to see her alive. But I left town after we talked. I just read about her death, and I had no choice but to approach you in person. I’m aware of the Bledsoe boy’s case and that you’re in some trouble.”
“Where did you read it?”
“Online.”
“So you’ve been back in Chicago since your meeting?”
“No,” he said warily. “I’ve been in Memphis. Visiting friends from college.”
Convenient.
An internal whisper reminded her of his courtroom face. Stoic. Unyielding to any emotion yet controlled and almost friendly.
Same face.
Was this a courtroom proceeding to him?
“Why did you meet with Kelly? Why call her? And what does my mental state have to do with anything?”
Oliver checked to see where Beckett was. Eyeing them like a hawk a couple feet away. “I’ve been keeping up with you over the years. Watching.”
Thoughts of Meghan’s stalker slithered up her spine. “Clarify, please.”
Oliver tented his hands. “Not like that. But I’ve changed since Hayden died. Losing someone you love does that.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I’ve kept tabs on you. For fear Franco might come for you. I’m always sleeping with one eye open. When I heard about the Bledsoe boy, I thought maybe you were feeling guilty about Hayden and I don’t want you to. When you wouldn’t answer my calls, I turned to the only person I know you’ve trusted over the years. Judge Marks. I thought she could tell me how you were doing mentally. After all that happened. She might be able to soften you up to call me, to offer to see me of your own free will.”
“She tried. I’ve been ashamed, Oliver.” Afraid to face the music. She was afraid right now.
“I know,” he said. “And she told me that the Bledsoe boy didn’t remind you so much of Hayden as he did Richie. All those pro bono cases. I never understood why you attacked them with such gusto. Until losing Hayden and not getting any justice.”
If Oliver didn’t feel he’d received justice for Hayden—and he hadn’t—then could he be sitting right here bald-faced lying to her? What would be the point? Why call Kelly? Why not show up like he was now?
“Did you tell Kelly not to share with me that you’d been in touch with her? Because she never told me once you’d phoned her. That’s odd.” She studied him, trying to crack through the blank face to see if she could find a single shred of malice.
“I didn’t. I suppose she thought you might be upset and even more determined not to answer my calls if you assumed I’d been badgering her. Which I hadn’t been. I just needed to know how you were and you wouldn’t answer my calls to tell me.”
Aurora tightened her lips.
“I know that face, Aurora. There’s nothing malicious here. Hayden will have been gone two years February fifteenth. Feels like time to make amends. I don’t have anything to do with the mess you’re in. I think probing into Richie’s conviction is stirring up a hornet’s nest. Kelly told me you were back at it. Any leads?”
Discussing the investigation was out. While she struggled to believe Oliver was the one at the helm of these attacks, there was still a slight possibility. If she could onl
y figure out what this conversation had to do with it. Unless he was creating an alibi that would require her to testify in court. To sit in that chair and tell the jury his son’s death had been because of a slipup in court and he had come all this way to offer her grace and let her off the hook—well, they’d eat that up. See Oliver as the hero.
That was, if she lived through this. But even if she didn’t and Oliver was charged, he’d have this lovely testimony and the sheriff as a witness because it was obvious Beckett could hear every word. The man wasn’t going to let a possible suspect out of earshot. Beckett would have to testify that he had heard Oliver extend grace. And that would go far with a jury.
“Aurora? What is it?”
She slid her sight to Beckett, and he stood taller as if to come to her aid. She gave him an almost-invisible shake of her head to keep him at bay. “I made a mistake that cost your son his life. You should hate me.”
Oliver laid his hand over Aurora’s. “You couldn’t have known Franco would retaliate that way. I didn’t even know.”
“He came after the one person you loved most when he should have come after me.”
“And one day he’ll pay for killing my son. But you shouldn’t have to.”
If Oliver was the real deal, Aurora didn’t know how to respond. How could someone offer her grace? Someone innocent had paid her penalty. She didn’t deserve it. “Oliver, I hope you mean this. I want to believe that you do. I need to believe it. And, if so, I don’t know what to say but thank you. But I have to say, if you’re not being forthright, Beckett Marsh will sniff it out and hunt you down. I hope you know that. And if you didn’t, you do now.”
Oliver’s eyes widened a fraction. “Aurora, I understand it’s hard to wrap your brain around. But I am being honest, and I don’t take umbrage with the fact you might believe I’m trying to kill you.” His lips quirked. “In fact, I’d say you’d lost some spark if you didn’t think that. It does appear ominous.”
Or, at the very least, odd timing. And yet her heart ached because she did want grace and to be forgiven, but even she couldn’t forgive herself. So why should anyone else?
Oliver stood. “If you need any help regarding your brother’s case, you have my number. Call if you need me.” He hugged her and Aurora spotted Beckett’s jaw tense, but she didn’t feel fearful. No, Oliver Benard may very well have changed for the better, though through tragic circumstances.
She walked Oliver to the door and watched him leave.
“So I’ll hunt him down, will I?” Beckett met her and slung his arm around her.
She forced herself not to lean into him. “You know you will.”
“You can take that to the bank. Whoever is responsible. I won’t lie—he sounded sincere but—”
“You think he’s the one terrorizing and attacking me.”
“Oliver has motive. He’d know where to hit you to make you feel most vulnerable. The safety of your home—you had to leave Chicago and now your home here. Your suits. Kelly. I can’t say what he does or doesn’t know about cars, but he’s a defense attorney. He knows dozens of shady characters willing to do some dirty work in return for a top-notch attorney.”
Aurora struggled with what was true and what might be pretense. Could someone simply extend grace like that, or was it a ploy? “Why would he care that I’m inquiring into Richie’s case?”
“He might not. But he could easily be using this as a prime opportunity. While we’ve been assuming Gus’s killer is after you, maybe Oliver Benard wants you to think that.” Beckett held Aurora’s chin. “Can you tell me without a shadow of doubt that Oliver Benard is innocent?”
Without a shadow of a doubt? “No, I can’t say that.”
“I’m going to do some more digging on him.” Beckett guided Aurora to the stairs. “And another question—how did Oliver Benard even know you were here?”
Aurora grabbed the railing, afraid she might be sick. Beckett had nearly taken a life. If a man as honorable as Beckett Marsh could stoop that low, then how much easier would it be for a man who didn’t share all of Beckett’s honorable qualities?
Not that Oliver was a bad man, but he wasn’t in his line of work to help the less fortunate. He was in it for the money and always had been. He’d said he’d changed. Had he really?
“Are we changing rooms or locations again?” She was tired of hiding. Running.
“No. This is the safest place for us. Public. We’re going to stand firm.”
At least until someone knocked them down again.
Inside the room and unable to sleep, Aurora made a cup of tea and curled up on the couch. Beckett knocked on her door and she gave him permission to enter. Dressed in navy athletic pants and a Memphis Grizzlies T-shirt, he looked like a man about to shoot hoops, not investigate a murder. “You want tea?”
He snorted. “I’m gonna pass. What’s going on in that terrifyingly brilliant mind?” He grabbed a light throw Aurora had brought from home and draped it across her lap, the gesture sending little rainbows dancing around her heart. “Other than you were cold.”
“How do you know that?”
“When you break out the fuzzy slippers. Otherwise, you go barefoot, because you drop your shoes the minute you enter a room.” He slunk onto the other end of the small sofa.
He’d figured all that out? “Now, I’m thinking I should make a list of everyone from Richfield to Hope who could be a suspect, including Trevor Russell and Oliver Benard.”
He grasped her foot, then rubbed it. “Wilder called. He said this Wig Hardy guy seems clean other than his gambling problem, and since you won’t allow me to let him riffle through his financials and see if skeletons pop out from the vaults, I can’t say whether that assumption is true or not. And I can’t keep Wilder sitting on a man who may not have anything to do with Gus’s murder. Maybe you should talk to Gus’s widow about Wig.”
Aurora sipped her jasmine tea, not as rich as Felicity’s over at the Read It and Steep. “I can. But it seems to me that Gus kept Darla on a need-to-know basis.”
“Or she doesn’t want to further involve herself and she’s playing dumb. What about her sister?”
“Linda? What about her?”
“She did the books at the mechanic shop, according to the files. Maybe she can help us out, tell us if Gus was doing underhanded business and who with. If he rooked Richie out of money for work on cars, he probably cheated everyone else on the planet, too, including other employees. I read over a few testimonies backing up Richie’s claim, but that only solidified the DA’s case against Richie.”
“You’ve been doing some late-night studying.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep much, and I can hear better when I’m awake.” He settled a throw pillow on his lap and yawned.
“You should sleep, Beckett. I know you’re trained to stay awake for days on end, but I feel bad.” She also knew Beckett was right. “Can you hand me that notepad on the table beside you and the pen?” She needed to add to the list of people who might want her dead. “I say we go back to Richfield tomorrow and poke around a little more. Talk to some of the old employees that are still around and the people who might have been at those poker games, as well as Linda and Darla.”
“I say we let Wilder do it. He has a way with getting people to talk. You’re too emotionally connected. Remember your conversation with Dwight Holmstead? Lasted a hot minute before you went in for the kill.”
She had treated the detective as a hostile witness. But she had a bond with Darla. “True, but I’d like to talk to Darla and her sister myself.”
Would Beckett compromise?
“I’ll agree to that. Wilder takes the suspects, you take witnesses.” His phone rang. “Wilder. We were just talking about you.”
Aurora listened as Beckett and Wilder had a conversation and then he hun
g up.
“Well?” Aurora asked.
“He’s leaving Richfield for the night, but while he was tailing Wig, he also checked into Oliver. Legally. He’s taken a leave of absence from the firm. He didn’t make any arrangements through his secretary, which, according to her, he always does.”
“How did he discover all this? And legally?”
“Again, he’s gifted at getting people to talk.” He leaned forward. “Has Oliver ever taken time off like this before?”
“No.” Oliver rarely used vacation time. The longest was after Hayden died. “When’s he set to come back?”
“No date to return. Yet.”
Could Oliver have fallen off the edge and plotted all this? The date of Hayden’s death was approaching. He never said what specific friends in Memphis he was visiting. The more Aurora thought about the possibility, the sicker she became.
* * *
Beckett hadn’t taken Aurora’s advice on sleep. Instead, he’d spent the night making calls to hunt down Trevor Russell. They needed to talk, but family and friends weren’t being cooperative. Which meant they were angry or hiding something.
He knocked on Aurora’s door at 8:45 a.m. She opened it, hair pulled back in her tight knot, but she wore dressy jeans and a velvety white sweater. “I have to make a run to Sufficient Grounds before we head out to talk to Darla and Linda. The espresso machine is on the fritz again.”
“So you need to jiggle the wires, then?” Beckett chuckled and held her purse while she shrugged into a knee-length gray wool coat. Didn’t matter what she wore—she wore it classy.
Aurora tromped down the stairs. “I’m so sick of that machine.”
“Do that many people need a cappuccino this early?”
“It’s almost nine—on a Saturday. Of course they do. Katelynn says talk is already dying down about the motion. It typically does.”
Until it didn’t.
The weather decided to rise into the high fifties once again, making it feel like spring. Overhead, the clouds had parted to reveal bright sunshine.
Final Verdict Page 12
