Final Verdict

by Jessica R. Patch

  She was being buried alive.

  * * *

  Beckett had called a deputy to pick up Quent and take him home, then he’d searched for Aurora until Blair brought him the keys to his car. He went to call her and that’s when he saw the text. Had Aurora lost her ever-loving mind?

  When she didn’t answer his call, he’d found Mitch, and he confirmed giving Aurora a vehicle. He’d also confirmed that he’d rented out other horses the day they took their ride. The shooter could have been Linda and Darla’s brother. Beckett should have thought to ask then, but he’d failed.

  Beckett had already left Farley Pass. But not before he’d checked Linda’s car, which was in perfect condition. She’d lied. Had she and her brother taken Aurora?

  He checked his tracking device. Aurora was at Hope Lake. He sped toward the lake, praying she was all right. That he’d be in time.

  He hadn’t been in time to save Meghan.

  He couldn’t catch a breath.

  Why would Linda or her brother take Aurora out to the lake? Were they planning on drowning her and burying her at the bottom? Hadn’t it crossed either of their demented minds that Aurora had already told Beckett they were on the way to the station? Please, God, don’t let me be too late. Help me find her.

  He pulled out his tracking device again. She was about a mile from the lake’s vacant parking lot. Not a single vehicle but Mitch’s. The red blinking dot identifying Aurora’s position wasn’t moving. He might have a fighting chance if he booked it. He parked beside Mitch’s truck.

  Grabbing his flashlight, he set out to rescue Aurora.

  His previous failure shone like blinding light in his brain.

  Following the signal into the woods, he continued praying for her safety and that he’d make it in time. He couldn’t let thoughts of failing Meghan interfere with his focus. But the fear that history was about to repeat itself distracted him.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Beckett stood with woods surrounding him on all sides. Aurora should be here. Somewhere. He ran the flashlight across the ground and attuned his ears, as well as his gut instinct.

  Wind.

  Dead leaves rustling along his feet.

  No voices.

  Something flashed near a muddy area. He inched forward and squatted.

  Oh, no. No. No.

  Lying in the mud was Aurora’s bracelet.

  A scuffle had taken place. “God,” he whispered, “protect her.” Time to call in backup.

  No. Beckett was now going to have to do this the hard way. Track her without help from a global satellite. He’d done this several times on missions. Or as a boy hunting animals. A slew of deputies would trample brush and footprints. Their flashlights swiveling across the woods might draw attention and cause the killer to panic and become desperate.

  He could move faster and safer for Aurora if he used his training and went alone.

  But time wasn’t on his side, and his past hovered like dense fog on the edges of his heart, his mind.

  God, direct me. I can’t do this on my own. I’m just a man. Lead me to her! Beckett had been working to resolve this in his heart and to find peace, knowing that while he hadn’t been able to save Meghan, she’d known the Lord. She was in His arms now and safe—protected. Who knew why God saved and rescued some and others left this life? Either way, Beckett had to trust Him.

  He set out, checking for cracked branches, footsteps, any sign of brush that had been pressed down from people trudging through it. He battled the darkness with only a single beam from his flashlight, but he moved fast, tracked and prayed continually—for guidance and Aurora’s safety.

  Beckett forced his pulse to slow. Focused on clearing the fog. He needed all his faculties, his senses. Continuing uphill, he followed the signs of people. Had to be Aurora; hikers would have a solid print, but a few he could make out had the point of a heel. She’d been in spiky heels.

  Up ahead he spied a mound of earth.

  His pulse spiked. No. No. No.

  He barreled toward what looked like a fresh grave. He dropped to his knees and instantly clawed his way through the dirt.

  “Aurora!”

  No answer.

  The trees bent and bowed at the heavy gusts of wind.

  In her little dress, underground. On a night like this. How long had she been buried? He hadn’t spotted anyone on his trek to find her. They’d hidden in the woods or bypassed him somehow. Right now that didn’t matter.

  Aurora alone mattered.

  He frantically dug, a cold sweat seeping through the back of his shirt. His pulse thumped mercilessly in his temples. He couldn’t have failed twice.

  “Aurora! Can you hear me?” He raced against time, clawing...digging.

  Would he be fast enough? An hour. It’d been a full hour since her text. Dirt clogged his nails and flew into his face, mouth, eyes.

  “Aurora!” he continued to call, begging for her to answer. Begging for her to be alive. Moisture filled his eyes as he worked and dug until his muscles burned, but he kept digging deeper. Each handful of dirt was a prayer that he was in time.

  God, I can’t save her. But You can. Forgive me for thinking I have that power. Please save her. They might never be together with the obstacles before them, but, God help him, he loved her and needed her to live.

  He forged ahead, tirelessly clawing through the dirt, terrified he’d find a lifeless body, vacant blue eyes he’d come to adore.

  A world no longer filled with Aurora Daniels.

  Another spear to Beckett’s side.

  He finally struck something hard.

  Wood.

  He knocked on it. Called her name.

  Nothing.

  Hysteria ripped through his veins.

  He stripped off his suit coat and used it to clear the remaining debris. The box was padlocked. His hair clung to his head.

  His pick was back in the truck and there wasn’t time.

  He jumped from the shallow grave, frantically hunting for something to break the latch. Using his phone as a flashlight he found a large rock. Grabbing it, he ran back to the box holding Aurora and smacked it against the padlock.

  Over and over again.

  Until it gave way and fell from the latch. He flipped it open and let out a cry.

  Aurora lay inside.

  Unmoving.

  Dirt and grime clung to her haggard skin, her lips a frightening shade of blue.

  He lifted her onto the ground and checked for a pulse, her skin feeling rubbery. Frostbite.

  Something hard smashed into the back of his head sending him face-first to the ground in a dizzy spell.

  “I get back to Aurora’s truck, and, lo and behold, look who’s come to rescue her. Sorry, but I can’t have you ruining my plans.”

  Beckett didn’t recognize the voice. He gathered his bearings and rolled to his back as the man brought down a shovel toward his face.

  Beckett flipped to the side, then grabbed the bottom of the tool, throwing the man off balance, giving Beckett time to jump to his feet and tackle him.

  They fell to the ground, the man on his back.

  That’s when Beckett realized who he was facing. Severin Renzetti. But how? He was supposed to be dead.

  Severin blazed with rage as he head-butted Beckett and pulled a gun.

  Beckett bent Severin’s arm to the side, disarming him. “On your knees. Now.”

  A stirring behind him caught a second of his attention. Aurora.

  Severin rushed him, knocking the gun from Beckett’s grasp and landing on top of him.

  Beckett clamped Severin’s chin and pushed him off his chest, then went for the gun.

  But not to take his life. He wasn’t the j
udge.

  He didn’t pronounce the sentencing. The rage he’d felt going after Parker Hill wasn’t what he felt now. He didn’t want revenge. He wanted true justice. And that meant taking Severin down alive if he could.

  Severin dove into him as they both grappled for the weapon; Severin snatched the gun, and aimed it at Beckett.

  Beckett grabbed Severin’s hands, working to push the gun away from his own nose. Dirt and twigs dug into the back of his shirt.

  “I will kill you!” Severin growled.

  That’s when he saw her stumbling his way. Dirt clinging to her body. Eyes wild. Hair matted and filthy.

  She had something in her hand.

  Beckett kneed Severin in the groin as Aurora brought the shovel down on his head.

  He went still.

  Beckett rolled him onto the grass, checked his pulse to find it still thumping and snatched the gun as Aurora crumpled in a heap on the ground.

  “Aurora!” He slid to her side, brushing her hair from her face. Whisking his jacket off the dirt pile, he covered Aurora with it. He clutched his phone and called for an ambulance and backup.

  Pulling her into his lap, he kissed her dirty forehead. “Stay with me, Aurora.” He rocked her back and forth, praying, pleading as they waited for first responders. “Stay with me, baby.”

  This woman had saved his life. In more ways than one.

  He’d felt dead for so long. But Aurora had slipped into his soul and breathed life back into him. Proved he could love again. Wholly. Fiercely. She couldn’t leave him. Not now. God, thank You. Make a way for us.

  Her skin was like ice and her lips had turned a deeper shade of blue. He continued to cradle her, his back to the wind to help keep her warm. “Hang on for me. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me, Aurora.”

  He nuzzled his face into her neck, burying his mouth against her frigid skin as he whispered his pleas into her ear. “You’re a fighter. That’s what you do. Don’t you give up,” he demanded. “That’s right. I’m telling you what to do. Makes you mad, doesn’t it? Wake up and give me a fight, Aurora. Fight. For yourself. For me.”

  Aurora didn’t move.

  Beckett kissed her dried and cracked lips. “I love you.”

  FOURTEEN

  Beckett kissed Aurora’s hand and gently laid it by her side. She’d been sleeping for the last couple of hours. She was going to be okay. Back to normal.

  Beckett wasn’t sure he was.

  He couldn’t lose her. Ever.

  He’d been sitting here praying about what to do. Where to go from here. He wanted everyone to be happy. Him. Aurora. Mama.

  The only shot he had was to take the job in Atlanta. The distance wasn’t a strong enough barrier between them anymore. He’d realized that after almost losing her. He’d make it work. If she would. And the truth was, he wanted that position. But could he hurt the woman who’d given him life to be with the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his with?

  Exiting Aurora’s room for a cup of coffee before she woke, he bumped into Mama. What was she doing here?

  “Hey,” he said, his throat dry and scratchy like his heart.

  “I got here about ten minutes ago. Melody from Admitting called. Said you were here. Deputy Ferrell is outside and explained everything.” She touched his shoulder, took in his grimy face. He hadn’t had time to wash up. Didn’t want to leave Aurora. Had phones calls to make. “I brought you some fresh clothes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve been watching you watch her. I haven’t seen you this way in a long time. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this way.”

  Beckett wasn’t so sure he’d ever been this way, either. “She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “You mean she’s not Meghan.”

  His chest ached. “I mean she’s one of a kind. Nothing like I imagined.” She’d crawled out of her grave to rescue him.

  “Then why so many worry lines on that forehead? I heard she’s going to be okay.”

  “She is. It’s complicated, Mama.”

  “Life is complicated, baby. But without the complications, you wouldn’t have the exhilarating joy when it’s not. You wouldn’t appreciate the simple things—like a stroll through the park or the way a hug from someone you love touches all the way to your toes. You wouldn’t admire the beauty of a butterfly or a belly laugh with an old friend. We need complicated.”

  “I like the way you see things. But I could stand a break from complication for a while.” Sometimes he could hardly catch his breath before another dilemma arose.

  “The Good Lord gives us complications to teach us dependence on Him. To teach us to trust a little longer, to walk in faith a little farther, to live a little louder.”

  How true that statement was. He’d had to depend on God to find Aurora, to save Aurora. He wasn’t a savior. Judge. He was a man who needed help from the One who was Savior. Judge. Always. “I love you, you know that?” Beckett draped his arm around her. “You’ve been the constant in my life, sacrificing for me and letting me go into the navy with your blessing, but I know it was hard on you. I know you—”

  “Go.” The command knocked him for a little loop.

  “What? Where?” He glanced at the change of clothes she’d brought him.

  Leaning into him, she curled her arm around his bicep. “Go to Atlanta, Beck. I’ve missed the dance in your eyes. At first I thought it was grief over Meghan. Then I realized it was more than that—when I was positive you’d moved on emotionally from her. I knew it was the job here.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “I should have piped up then, but I was selfish. I wanted you here, safe and where I could see you or hear your voice whenever I wanted. Turns out you’re not truly safe anywhere. These past few weeks have shown me that.”

  “Mama,” he choked, “you are the least selfish person I know.”

  She squeezed his upper arm and sniffed. “I know you’ve dodged Wilder’s calls. He’s made several to me. But then he showed up. That boy has tenacity.” She shook her head, garnering a laugh from them both.

  “I want to take care of you. Be here for you like you’ve been for me. I don’t want you to worry about me.”

  Mama slipped from his reach and cupped his cheeks. “You are my baby. I don’t care if you’re six foot three. I don’t care if you know how to get in and out of countries with no one knowing. I don’t care that you’re thirty-two years old. I will worry about you if you farm potatoes or launch nuclear weapons. I want you to be happy.”

  Beckett’s breath hitched. “I thought you were glad to have me here. In less danger. Safe.”

  “Well, of course I am! I’d like to put you in a bubble and never let you out of my living room. Especially after this fiasco!” She laughed through a few tears. “She makes you happy, Beckett. Working with Wilder all over the world would make you happy. And I know the obstacles that you’d face here with Aurora. Small town. But in Atlanta...”

  “Would you come to Atlanta?” He wanted to take care of her. To take care of Aurora.

  “No. My life is here. I’m sixty-five years old. You’ve barely even started living, son. If what’s holding you back from her is sticking around to make your old mama happy, then buck up, kiddo. I’m on board with you leaving.”

  “But the assignments...”

  “Can be dangerous. I get it. But God made you who you are, Beckett Levi Marsh. Not everyone can do the kinds of things you’ve done. You rescued dozens of people from a building that exploded. You dug a woman from a grave with your bare hands and took down the monster who put her there. He gave you the moxie to do it. Now muster up some of it to tell your mama what you really want and that you’re moving.”

  Beckett’s chest tightened. “You’re the best thing ever, Mama.” He
hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I want Aurora, and if I have to move across the world to make her mine, then I’ll do it.”

  “Well, I said Georgia, not across the world.” She leaned into his embrace. “Make her yours. Providing she feels the same way. She ain’t one to be bossed.”

  “No, she’s not.” But would she want to move to Georgia at some point? What would it take to practice law there? He wouldn’t ask her to give up what she loved. He couldn’t. Would she even see his move as a chance to be together?

  “I know. I saw it that day she came over and gave you a run for your money. I like her. And I think someday I’d like a few little redheaded grandbabies to visit.” She gave him a playful push. “Go on, now. You don’t want her seeing you all filthy when she wakes. Clean up, then do what you know is right.”

  Beckett gave her one last look before hurrying to the restrooms. When Aurora woke, he’d tell her the truth. He loved her. And between the two of them and a heap of prayer, they’d find a way to spend their lives together.

  * * *

  Beeps and buzzing woke her.

  Aurora blinked. At first the scenery was blurry, but then she gained her focus.

  White walls.

  Monitors.

  Her body was drenched in wonderful warmth. She touched the fabric over her legs. Heated blankets.

  She was in the hospital. Everything was fuzzy, but then Severin’s face...the box... She’d been buried! Fresh fear filled her.

  “Hey, hey,” came a reticent whisper. “You’re safe. I’m here. Right here.”

  Beckett.

  Beckett had come for her.

  And almost died.

  She’d passed out, then awoken, and Severin had a gun. He was going to kill Beckett.

  Shovel.

  Her mouth felt like cotton and she licked her lips.

  Beckett brought a cup to her mouth. “Drink. It’s warm.”

  “Don’t...tell me...what...to do,” she croaked, but obeyed.

  “That’s my girl. My fighter.” He kissed her forehead and took the cup away.

  “How long have I been here?” Her head ached and she was exhausted.