Final Verdict

by Jessica R. Patch

  “Let’s get some rest. We need it.” Beckett changed the subject. It was clearly over and done with. He pivoted at the door. “I know you’re right. For a minute, I didn’t care. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he said.

  “If things were different—”

  “I lost my head.”

  She’d lost her heart.

  “Good night, Counselor.” He gave her an equally forlorn expression and disappeared behind the door.

  Another barrier keeping them apart.

  TWELVE

  Beckett looked in the mirror and flicked his spiky bangs, frowning. He should have shaved, but he’d kept the scruff to cover a few scratches from the explosion Saturday. It felt like more than a few days had passed. More like two months. And yet it seemed as if it was only last night he’d been in Aurora’s room, heady from kissing her. Wishing to stay locked in that embrace.

  He opted for a crisp white shirt with a black suit jacket. He straightened his black silk tie, then undid it and tossed it on the chair, leaving the top two buttons undone to breathe. Ties were meant for funerals or weddings. Not Valentine’s Day dates. Except this wasn’t a date. Aurora had voiced the truth he already knew deep down. Closing the door on her that night had closed the door on their chances. He had lost his head.

  She wasn’t moving. He wasn’t moving, though he’d thought a lot about Atlanta these past few days. But what would happen if he became emotionally invested in a case while working with Wilder? What would he do? He could never let himself get back to the dark place like when Meghan died. When he’d almost killed Parker Hill.

  But could he stay in this town and watch Aurora eventually fall for another man? He didn’t want to think about it. He had a case to work. To laser in on.

  The SWAT bomb commander had told him that his findings were inconclusive. Most likely it was the same explosives guy Franco Renzetti used, but there were enough contrasts in style that it could have been copycatted to appear like a hit by Renzetti. He confirmed what Beckett had been thinking. If anyone had discovered the signature the bomber used when crafting explosive devices, hundreds of online videos gave tutorials on how to create a bomb. Not to mention anyone could have hired someone to set it. It was as easy as putting an ad in the classifieds or an online sales paper.

  So it could have been Darla or her son, Little Gus. Or even Linda. She might have offed Gus to keep Darla from finding out about their affair. She could have hired someone.

  But he still couldn’t let Oliver slip away. He’d left town but wasn’t scheduled to go back to work, so who knew where he was at the moment. Coming to apologize at this time in Aurora’s life—yeah, tomorrow was the anniversary of his son’s death—but it didn’t feel right. Where was he?

  And lastly, Franco Renzetti. The bomb made sense. The other threats and attacks, he couldn’t be 100 percent sure.

  But Oliver.

  It kept coming back to the attorney.

  Beckett had been over it a hundred times. He had barely heard what Pastor Bradley said Sunday in church. Between figuring out who might be after Aurora and being distracted by thoughts of Aurora in general, he might have picked out a few of the verses.

  Lord, don’t hold back Your tender mercies from me. Let Your unfailing love and faithfulness always protect me.

  He’d perked up at that Scripture and made it his own prayer over himself and Aurora. They needed protecting and with Wilder now gone, Beckett was her sole guardian. But he was only a man. And men made mistakes. Men didn’t make it in time every time. Men were flawed.

  He’d proven that.

  Shaking the nerves from his hands, he knocked on Aurora’s door.

  She opened it, knocked the breath from him.

  Stunning.

  She wore a long-sleeved black dress that touched the top of her knees. She’d left her hair long, and it flowed in shiny waves. Sparkly earrings dangled from her ears. On her good hand, she wore the charm bracelet. He hoped it was out of love for the gift and not just the GPS tracker.

  “You look...amazing. I was going to bring flowers—just so you know I’m not a jerk. But after our conversation—”

  “I don’t think you’re a jerk, Beckett.”

  Even if he had brought a bouquet, it wouldn’t hold a candle to her.

  “Let me grab my purse.” She hurried back inside, a pro on those super high heels. They’d brought her nearly to his nose. After she grabbed it and a shawl of some sort, he escorted her from the inn. “It’s freezing out.”

  The low was in the twenties tonight; already the temperature was dropping. “I’m seriously considering moving to the Bahamas.” He opened the door for her and helped her into the car, then darted around to the driver’s side.

  He cranked the engine and caught her gawking at him. His chest swelled. “What?” But he knew she was admiring him.

  “You look good, Mr. Bond.”

  “I am packin’ a weapon or two.” He patted his side and drove them to Mitch Rydell’s. Dozens of vehicles were already parked, and smooth, romantic music sounded from inside the barn. How was he going to make it through this night? “You mind keeping my keys in your purse?”

  “Sure.” She dropped them in her clutch. “I like your car, by the way.”

  “I didn’t want to be the sheriff tonight.” Lately, he didn’t want to be the sheriff at all. He’d been wrestling with what Aurora had said about him being content and happy. He’d been trying to convince himself all along that he was. That this was the right thing, staying in Hope. He was fulfilling the Scripture he’d carried in his wallet after Meghan died. Yet, he squirmed inside. Completely unsettled.

  The authorities are God’s servants, sent for your good. But if you are doing wrong, of course you should be afraid, for they have the power to punish you. They are God’s servants, sent for the very purpose of punishing those who do what is wrong.

  He’d taken that note to punish entirely out of context, justifying his sin as he hunted down Parker Hill.

  Had he really come here after Meghan for a fresh start? Just to take care of Mama?

  No. He’d been afraid of falling off the edge again. He’d been hiding. Maybe that’s why he recognized it in Aurora when she’d moved here. She’d mirrored him.

  He blew a heavy breath and scanned his surroundings.

  Clear-bulb lights hung from the rafters and walls, creating a soft glow. Rustic lanterns with candles burning inside sat on tables with white tablecloths. Tin buckets held spring flowers, and a stage had been created for the live band.

  Several people waved. Some whispered. No doubt wondering if he and Aurora were an item, and if so, how long it could last. Didn’t they basically fight for two different things? Some even scowled as if he were fraternizing with the enemy.

  They didn’t know Aurora like he did. They didn’t understand her view. What drove her. They didn’t see the compassionate woman willing to risk her own life to help others.

  Speaking of lives, Johnna waved and blew Aurora a kiss. She could have blown up in that explosion if it hadn’t been for Aurora.

  He led her with his hand on the small of her back, noticing how well it fit there. They found their table in the corner. Placards with their names had been laid out for them.

  “Do you feel awkward?” Aurora asked. “I’m not blind. People have been talking for days. Speculating that something is going on between us.”

  He helped her out of her coat, thankful for the heated barn. “I never was a fan of rumors and gossip.” The only thing going on between them was pure misery. “Let’s get a drink. Sparkling cider?”

  She nodded and they made their way to the drink table.

  “Aurora, you’re lovely.”

  Beckett admired Mama. Always classy. “You’re lovely, yourself.”

  �
�Yes, Virginia, you do look beautiful,” Aurora said.

  She beamed. “I think this is the most gorgeous event we’ve done yet. Mitch’s stable hands are doing carriage rides through the pasture. No snow, but it’s still wonderful.”

  “That sounds fun.” Aurora sipped her cider and let her gaze wander over the barn.

  Beckett should have offered to take her. But snuggling under a quilt, that close to her lips—and after a kiss that had been mind-blowing—it was smarter to keep his distance. Focus on the case.

  The next hour they spent mingling with friends, acquaintances and those simply curious about what the sheriff was doing on a perceived date with the defense attorney. Holt McKnight caught his attention and motioned for him.

  “Hey, man. How are things?”

  Beckett groaned. “I’m chasing rabbits, dude. It could be anyone. At this point, maybe it’s all of them. They’ve formed some sort of I Hate Aurora Daniels club and they’re all coming after her.”

  Holt clucked his tongue inside his cheek. “Doubtful,” he deadpanned. “Who has the most to gain by wiping her out?”

  Beckett downed his cider and scanned the room for Aurora. She was in the corner talking to Mitch. He grunted.

  Holt followed his line of sight and clasped his shoulder. “Get a grip.”

  “I know. I know. But they’d work. She could easily be with him and no one would question his integrity. She could continue doing what she loves for a living.” He could buy her all sorts of jewelry. His temperature rose. “And if I’m being honest, I hate the idea, but I want her to be happy. Not have to deal with so many complications. I also want to knock Mitch Rydell through the barn wall.”

  Holt raised his eyebrows. Glad he found this amusing. There was nothing amusing about it.

  “If you love her, Beck, make it work. End of story. From a man who knows.” Holt raised his glass and left Beckett alone.

  Easier said than done.

  Aurora caught his eye, mirroring the same tortured expression he felt. She lifted her cider glass in response, then broke eye contact, as if seeing him pained her.

  It pained him.

  He couldn’t stand here all night and watch Aurora and Mitch. He wasn’t actually going to toss him through the wall, but having the fleeting thought scared him. He couldn’t go over the edge. He refused.

  Taking his mind off it, he talked with townsfolk. Casual conversations. No one dared ask him about Aurora, other than if she was okay after the café exploded. Some asked if he had any leads on who had done such a horrible thing. He gave a standard response: “We don’t have any conclusive answers, but we’re doing everything we can to find who did this and bring him to justice.”

  He only hoped when he did discover who was behind terrorizing and attempting murder on Aurora he’d keep his wits about him. He finally strode to the corner of the room, but Aurora was no longer with Mitch.

  “Hey, Sheriff. You enjoying yourself?”

  Not so much. “Where’s Aurora?” Beckett asked.

  Mitch pointed outside the barn. “Cell rang and she said she had to take it.”

  “Thanks.” He strode outdoors. People milling about in conversation.

  No Aurora.

  His phone rang. Wilder.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Hey. While I was doing a more extensive search, like you asked the other day, I found some interesting information on Linda Wilcott and Darla McGregor.”

  Beckett paused. “What’s that?”

  “They have a brother. And he did time. He was let out about eight months ago.”

  A brother was never mentioned. “What was he in for?”

  “Well, he belonged to a small antigovernment commune. He got picked up for assault and battery, but the crazies he lived with had enough weapons for a small militia. Including a truckload of C-4 and other materials that could be used to construct a bomb.”

  Beckett’s gut churned. The brother would have access to materials if he was still in contact with commune members. “You locate him?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s living with his nephew. Gus McGregor Jr.”

  “Little Gus.” The brother could have easily acted on behalf of either one of his sisters. Dropped the engine. Attacked them. Set the bomb. “Thanks.” He hung up and hurried around the barn in time to be accosted by a figure.

  * * *

  Aurora smacked her phone. “I can’t hear you. You’re cutting out on me.”

  Linda Wilcott had phoned her, hysterical. But Aurora couldn’t get a clear connection out here.

  “Miss Daniels. Can you hear me now?”

  Aurora poked a finger in her ear at the shoddy reception. “Yes. I can. Say that again.” She moved closer to Mitch’s driveway at the main house.

  “After we talked on the phone the other day about those photos you found, it was obvious you knew about me and Gus. I decided to go to Darla and let her hear it from me first. But when I told her today she said she already knew. She ranted about all of Gus’s infidelities and that I was another victim of his—which isn’t true—but it scared me. I think she might have done something real bad. I found something from her garage you should see. I think it’s the murder weapon.”

  Aurora clutched her chest. Darla had known and killed Gus as some kind of saving mission to rescue her sister from him. But to frame Richie? To let him go to prison?

  People can fall fast. Beckett’s words came back around. Grief. Pain. It could change a person, and not for the better. “Where are you now?” Darla might come after Linda.

  “I’m actually on Farley Pass. My car stalled out.”

  Had someone tampered with her vehicle, too? Little Gus? Darla herself?

  “If she finds out I have this... I wanted to get out of town. Get it to you as soon as possible.”

  She turned toward the barn. “I can come get you. Take you to the sheriff’s station.”

  “Okay. Hurry,” she said in a shaky voice.

  Aurora hung up and went on a search for Beckett. Where was he? Most of the night he’d been keeping a watchful eye on her. The whole evening had been an emotional disaster. So many couples enjoying the romantic atmosphere. Shared looks, touches, kisses. All the things she wanted with Beckett.

  A commotion sounded from the side of the barn where several bales of hay and a generator-powered heater made for a warm sitting area.

  Someone screeched.

  Aurora stopped at the edge of the barn. Beckett was restraining someone. She squinted.

  Quent Russell.

  He swung at Beckett, clipping his jaw. “You know what she did! And you’re making it with her!”

  Oh, my. Aurora’s face heated as a few eyes made contact with hers, some embarrassed, some questioning and some accusing.

  Not noticing Aurora in the dark, Beckett sprang forward in a span of seconds, pinning Quent on the ground, face in the dirt. “Son, watch your mouth, for one. You don’t talk about ladies like that. Secondly, you need to cool off sooner rather than later.” Beckett scanned the crowd of spectators. “Anybody seen his daddy?”

  “My daddy ain’t here! I saw you and her. At your house!”

  Well, that explained the lurker in the yard that night.

  “My mom would roll over in her grave knowing you would take up with—”

  Beckett hauled Quent up by his jacket collar. “That’s it.”

  Aurora spotted Blair and rushed to her, not wanting to put herself in Quent’s vicinity. “Give these to Beckett. He’ll need them to take Quent Russell home.” She gave Blair the keys.

  “Hey, not everybody feels that way. Quent’s hurting.”

  “I’m not stupid. I know Beckett and I can’t have anything more than friendship. It’s a nice thought, though.”

  “That’s not tru
e.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Blair. I’m a trial lawyer.” She left the keys and hurried to find Mitch.

  “Hey, Mitch! Can I borrow your car? Beckett has his hands full and I need to pick up a friend who’s stranded.” Every second counted. She was only a few minutes away. Once she picked up Linda, she’d go straight to the sheriff’s station. She’d be safe. They both would.

  “You need me to take you?” Mitch asked.

  “No, I’m fine.” No sense dragging more people into this. “If you don’t mind me borrowing a vehicle.”

  “Nah, if you don’t mind driving a pickup.” He handed her the keys to his silver Ford F-150.

  She hopped in. “Thanks.” After buckling up, she sent Beckett a text:

  Gone to pick up Linda Wilcott at Farley Pass. Car broke down. You had hands tied with Quent. Meet us at station. Borrowed Mitch’s truck.

  She laid on the gas and headed for Linda. Could Darla have lied straight to Aurora’s face like that? Clients did it all the time. So, yeah, she could have.

  “Lord, help me. Help me clear Richie’s name. Then help me to know what the next step is.” She saw Linda’s car on Farley Pass. She pulled to the edge of the road and rolled down her passenger window. “Hey, Linda! Get in.”

  Linda hurried to the truck and climbed in. Her hair was in disarray and her pupils were dilated, eyes shifty.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Just freaked-out, you know?”

  “Right.” Aurora edged onto the road and made her way toward the sheriff’s station. “Tell me what happened.”

  Linda shook her head. “It was a huge mistake, me and Gus, but I loved him. Long before Darla ever even met him!” Her tone grew louder, and a strange sensation skittered along Aurora’s skin.

  “So you confessed you’d had an affair and Darla admitted she knew?”

  “She did. She said awful things about Gus. Said he seduced me like the others. Seduced me so I’d cook his books. But I never did that. I mean, I did fudge a few things. Lessened some of the hours the guys worked when Gus was in a financial mess.”