The Soldier's Wife

by Sirena N. Robinson

  Halle paused and looked uncomfortable. She was quiet for several moments, but when Beckett didn’t speak, she went on, her voice hesitant and unsure.

  “I think we should raise our prices. We could do a grand-opening of sorts when the café opens and offer discounts on gift cards. Introduce a new services menu, pricing structure and all the up-sells we’re bringing in. I’ve watched you do this for two years, Beckett. I know how to make money.”

  Satisfied, Beckett smiled. “I can see you do. Put out ads for the new positions. I’ll offer you twenty percent more now and more if the numbers say I can afford it. Put out an ad for a new full-time receptionist and one part-time. You’ll need an assistant while you’re in charge. Find a space for an office. There’s no money to add one, so it has to be something we already have here.”

  Halle nodded and kept scribbling on her notebook. “I’ll get on it right away. And I’ll bring Paulina down immediately.”

  Beckett smiled as Halle left the room. Promoting her was the right choice, despite the financial risk. Turning her mind back to the less happy task of firing a good stylist, she sighed. Maybe getting to be mean would make her feel better.

  ****

  By noon, Beckett was hailed from Vive to deal with the sheriff and explain everything she knew about Ryan all over again. After presenting the proof they had and what had been found in the storage unit, the sheriff ordered Ryan’s grave be dug up. Jax provided a DNA sample for comparison and they were all sternly instructed to report any further confrontations with Jason Robbins.

  Beckett spent the rest of the afternoon locating the banks where Ryan had his security boxes. They were all in Atlanta, so she arranged for two days off from Vive, while Cassie and Alan kept the kids, and booked two tickets to Atlanta, one for her and one for Murphy. After packing and filling all three of Ryan’s brothers in on the plan, she waited impatiently for Murphy to pick her up, loading her bags into his truck the moment he pulled into her driveway.

  After an uneventful, but long trip to Atlanta, Beckett called to check on Harlow and Rhys, unpacked her bag, then flopped onto the bed next to Murphy. Glancing over at her, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing her fingers in his.

  “I wish we knew what we were going to find.”

  Beckett closed her eyes. “I keep thinking of the worst case scenario. Drugs, guns, stolen money. That sort of thing. Then I think, well, what if there’s nothing there? If he’s still alive, he’ll have emptied them by now, surely. And these are just the ones we know about. What if he had safety deposit boxes in his fake names, too? What then? We’ll never find those.”

  “If he’s still alive, he couldn’t have emptied these without a power of attorney and a death certificate because he’s listed as deceased.” Murphy sat up and tugged her to her feet. “Look, there’s no sense in dwelling on it tonight. We have an appointment at nine in the morning to get into the first box. We’ll deal with it then, for better or worse. Go take a long, hot shower. I’ll order up some room service since neither of us have eaten, and we’ll have dinner, watch a movie, and get some sleep.”

  Beckett offered a soft smile and nodded. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds nice.” She gathered pajamas and paused at the door to the bathroom. “I don’t know what we’re going to find tomorrow, but I want you to know whatever it is, I had no idea about anything Ryan was into. I know it sounds naïve and stupid, but I didn’t. I thought he was a good man until a few weeks ago.”

  “I know. I’ve never thought you were involved in any of this.” He stepped forward and laid his hand on her cheek. “Let’s just get through this so we can focus on the future. I want to be able to concentrate on the two of us, not this. So we just suck it up, get through it, and move forward together. And we lean on each other through any of the shit we dig up. Deal?”

  Nodding, Beckett wondered if she’d ever felt so much trust and companionship from her husband. Deciding she hadn’t, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “Deal.”

  Chapter 14

  Beckett walked into the first bank on her list wearing a trim black suit, heels, and her hair plaited into a French braid to control her curls. Striding up to the counter, she spared a cool smile for the teller.

  “Good morning. My name is Beckett McKenzie. I have an appointment to access my husband’s safety deposit box.” Pushing a manila folder through the window, she continued. “His death certificate, our marriage license, a copy of the power of attorney, and the newspaper article confirming his death are all in there, as well as my driver’s license, social security card, and birth certificate.”

  The woman scanned the documents with a practiced eye and keyed into the computer system, her eyes scanning the screen. Nodding, she closed the file, tucked it under her arm, and strode around the desk.

  “Follow me, please.” When Murphy began to follow as well, the teller shook her head. “I’m sorry, but only Mrs. McKenzie is allowed back. You can have a seat in the lobby.”

  Within two minutes, Beckett was in a locked room with a large safety deposit box on the counter in front of her. The teller used a key on her wrist to unlock it and stepped back.

  “I’ll give you some privacy. There are boxes in the corner if you need to carry something out. Please put the box back when you’re done. I should let you know the payment on the box has been lapsed for more than twelve months. Will you be bringing everything up to date today?”

  Though it pained her, Beckett nodded. “I’ll pay it. I’ll be taking everything in here, so I won’t be needing the box any longer.”

  “I’ll have the paperwork ready when you come out.”

  Left alone with the safety deposit box, Beckett closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying to whomever was listening that it would be empty. Opening the lid, she raked her eyes over the contents, her stomach knotting and churning when she saw what was inside.

  A pistol lay on top with three magazines next to it. Carefully removing the weapon, she checked the slide to verify it was unloaded and tucked it into her purse, along with the ammo. There was a passport, birth certificate, and social security card with one of the names she remembered from the storage unit. An envelope full of hundred dollar bills was in the bottom. Thumbing through it, Beckett guessed there was twenty thousand dollars or more.

  A second envelope held credit cards, a driver’s license with the same fake name, and records from universities showing a degree in business. A set of keys lay in the bottom with an address taped to one of them. Pocketing the keys, she thumbed through the rest of the contents, her hand stilling when she lifted a packet of paperwork and found a block of cocaine lying underneath.

  Shaking, she hurriedly put the block in a Ziploc bag she’d shoved into her purse and tucked it beneath the other things. Her heart in her throat, she dumped the rest of the contents she’d removed into her bag and shoved the box back in its place. Striding out, she stopped at the desk to pay the clerk more than five hundred dollars to bring the bill on the safety deposit box up to date. Shaking, she crossed the lobby and joined Murphy, both her hands clasped on the handles of her purse and her heart pounding rapidly.

  “What was in there?”

  Beckett glanced up at Murphy as they exited the bank. “I can’t talk about it on the street. We’ll get arrested.”

  His eyes widening, Murphy took her purse from her. “Better me than you if it happens. Let me carry it.”

  Once they were in the truck, Murphy opened the purse and peered inside, shifting the papers to see the gun and drugs.

  “Holy shit. It has to be worth tens of thousands of dollars. It’s a kilogram, right?”

  Annoyed, Beckett snapped. “How the fuck should I know? It’s not like I was the one packaging it for him!”

  Apologetic, Murphy grabbed her hand and held it. “I know. I’m sorry. Stupid question. What do we do with it?”

  “Take it home and give it to the police I suppose. No one here in Atlanta would believe me.”

  “We can’t take it on
the plane. We’d be arrested at the airport and charged with federal drug trafficking.”

  Deflating, Beckett sighed. “I hadn’t thought about it. We could rent a car and drive home, I suppose. How far is it to drive to Maine?”

  “Two day trip if we drive twelve hours a day.”

  “Could we mail it?”

  “That’s risky, too. What if we get caught? No offense, but I’m not willing to go to prison for my brother. Let’s call Sheriff Rogers at home once we go to the other banks. Once we know what we have exactly, we’ll fill him in and let him make the call. Maybe he can make arrangements for us to turn it in here and have it transported home or something.”

  Nodding, Beckett fished the keys out of her pocket. “I found these in there, too. It’s an apartment. I think we have enough time to go check it out before we go to the next bank.”

  Twenty minutes later, Beckett slid the key into the lock of an apartment door and pushed it open. The entry was bright, with a long table against one wall and a bowl filled with mail sitting on it. Glancing at the name, she felt nothing more than a mild sense of resignation. Alana McKenzie.

  Murphy pushed his way in front of her and strode purposefully into the apartment. “Wait here for a minute. I want to make sure it’s safe.”

  Beckett stood near the door, rifling through the pile of mail while she waited. After less than a minute, Murphy came out of one of the other rooms and nodded to her.

  “No one’s home. Get to work.”

  “Murph.” Beckett pointed to the mail. “I think he married this one.”

  “We don’t know anything yet. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

  They went through the small apartment, checking for anything with Ryan’s name on it. Finding nothing, Beckett headed for the mail to look through it when the sound of a key in the lock froze her to her spot. The door swung open and she was faced with another woman. The woman was taller and thinner than Beckett, with long legs showcased in stiletto heels and her wildly curly hair loose around her shoulders. Her skin was the color of café au lait, and her eyes rich and brown. As they focused on Beckett, she saw a flash of surprise, recognition, then resignation.

  “Beckett. How did you find me?”

  Murphy, drawn from the other room at the sound of another voice, entered the foyer and stood behind Beckett. The woman, Alana, glanced at him appraisingly.

  “You’re one of the brothers. I apologize, but I don’t know which one.”

  “Murphy.”

  Alana closed the door. “How did you get in here? How did you find me?”

  Beckett silently lifted the keys out of her pocket and shook them. “Safety deposit box. I’ve been learning a lot about my husband in the past few weeks.”

  Alana smiled sympathetically. “Your husband? Honey, I married Ryan five years before he even knew who you were. You were never married to him. You just thought you were.” She gestured to the couch. “Have a seat before you faint. Do you want some coffee? Or scotch. I can provide either.”

  Murphy shook his head. “We want an explanation.”

  “And you’ll get one. Let me get these heels off and change into something more comfortable. I figured one of you would find me eventually. Didn’t think Ryan was stupid enough to leave keys laying around, but there we have it. Give me two minutes.”

  Beckett stared at Murphy when Alana left the room. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Murphy led her to the couch. “I wish I knew.”

  ****

  Settled on the couch in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt, Alana pulled her legs beneath her and faced Murphy and Beckett.

  “I know you have a lot of questions. I would, too, in your shoes. I married Ryan seventeen years ago. He was twenty-seven, I was nineteen. I know you’re seeing the pattern there, too.” She stopped and smiled, picking at lint on her leggings as she turned to look at Murphy, addressing him. “You’ll likely remember Ryan served for six years, then got out, was a civilian for a couple years, and re-enlisted after the attack on New York. He and I married in the time he wasn’t in the Army. When he re-enlisted, he didn’t disclose the marriage, which is how my name was kept off his official records.”

  She took a deep breath and shifted to look at Beckett, again choosing to address only one of them at a time.

  “We separated after I found out about you, Beckett. That was when he married you down in Texas. Texas is one of those states that doesn’t check to see if someone was married in another state, which is how he was able to get a marriage license. Two years later, he was back at Fort Benning without you and we reconciled. By then, I knew who and what he was and figured you did too. I know there were others, a lot of others, both before and after me. He had a kid with one of them. Some druggie at a base bar.”

  “Elaina Montgomery.”

  Approval warming her eyes, Alana nodded. “So you do know. Good.” She paused and cleared her throat. “I was sad to hear when he died. Ryan was an asshole, but I was fond of him. I was hoping to fly up for the funeral, but I couldn’t get off work for it.”

  Beckett shook her head to clear it. “My brain hurts. He married you here in Georgia, then re-enlisted in the Army, got transferred to Texas where he met me. You found out, left him, he married me, while still being married to you, and then you got back together when he got stationed here?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “And you knew he was married to me.”

  Her gaze hardening slightly, Alana sighed. “I’ll remind you that you were the one who broke up my happy marriage. I wasn’t the other woman. I’m the original wife. All the life-insurance, those death benefits, the checks for your kids? All of it is because I didn’t make a fuss. If I’d have pushed it, I’d have gotten it all, but I figured you were the one with his kids, and I knew you hadn’t known about me, so I thought you deserved the benefits. Don’t try to paint me as a mistress or a home-wrecker. The image doesn’t fit.”

  Murphy cleared his throat. “Do you know anything about what he was doing in Colombia and Pakistan?”

  “Be more specific.”

  Beckett rubbed her hands over her face. “Did you know he was muling drugs for a cartel?”

  Alana leaned back and laid her arm across the back of the couch. “You know more than I figured. I knew he was involved in something bad. It wasn’t until some punk ass kid showed up a few weeks ago that I knew the rest. Jason Robbins. He filled me in on our boy’s escapades. I figured you probably knew about it.”

  “Jason came to visit us, too.” Her eyes hard, Beckett stared at Alana. “Is Ryan really dead? Or is he still alive, using one of the seemingly endless identities he had stored, living the high-life on money he stole from criminals who are now after me and my children?”

  “I’d be one of the last people he’d come to if he was still alive. Obviously if you found the identities, he couldn’t come back to get them, so he’s either dead or hiding. Would I put it past him? Honey, you’re talking about a man with two wives, a dozen mistresses, who was also finding time to smuggle drugs under the guise of being a military officer. Ryan was a man too smart for his own good, who could talk himself out of any situation, and who knew exactly how to manipulate people until they were right where he wanted them. There is nothing I would put past him. Not one damn thing.” Alana levelled her gaze at Beckett. “Including faking his own death.”

  Beckett took a deep breath, and her voice wavered, but she didn’t cry. “Other than what this Robbins told you, do you know of anything he was doing that was illegal?”

  Alana lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Do you really want to know? If you’re here trying to solve some mystery to assuage your guilt at banging your brother-in-law, trust me when I tell you there’s no reason to feel guilty. You were conned by one of the best manipulators I ever met, so take some solace in that and get on with your nice, little life. But if you’re here to track his sorry ass down, whether it’s in Hell or Timbuktu, then we can talk.”

 
Her eyes bright with a mixture of grief and hatred, Beckett leaned forward. “Right now, I’d like nothing more than to choke Ryan with my own bare hands. If he’s still alive, I’m afraid I’ll end up doing just that.”

  Pleased, Alana leaned back into the couch cushions. “When he was in Pakistan, I got a letter from him wanting to reconcile. He talked about having a lot of money, that things were good, and he wanted me back. I don’t know where the money came from. When he got with the addict girl, he kept her in coke. He was getting it somewhere, and he wasn’t worried about getting caught. When he left for Colombia, he left a brick with me and strict instructions to make sure his side piece got what she needed while he was gone. Another one arrived in the mail the week after he died. You do the math. I have.”

  Chapter 15

  Never in her life had Beckett imagined that handing over drugs to the police could be such a polite, no-fuss affair. A desperate call to Bar Harbor’s sheriff had led to a meeting with two polite FBI agents who had relieved Beckett and Murphy of what they’d found in the three safety deposit boxes and the keys. They had taken their statement about everything else they knew. Promising to update them if anything came of the information, Beckett and Murphy were escorted out of the office the agents were using in the Atlanta Police Department and sent on their way.

  Beckett soon discovered that trying to maintain some sense of normalcy was next to impossible with a police investigation, potential cartel connections, and the possibility her husband wasn’t dead after all hanging over her head. By the time Thanksgiving dawned with crisp weather and a hard frost on the grass, she was ready to forget the holidays even existed. Amidst excited cries from her children that they would be late for dinner at Savi’s, Beckett forced herself to dress for the occasion, allowed Murphy to hustle them all into the car, and put on a smile as she walked in the door with a pie in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.