Every Last Secret

by Christa Wick

  It doesn't matter that I now know and understand his reasons. Since my return home, I have viewed him as nothing more than a ghost, his presence less noticeable than my dead sister's absence.

  Starting today, that all changes—for Jake's sake and for Leah's.

  Cupping the side of my face, she looks up.

  "Do you think my mama heard me?"

  Holding Leah to me, I kiss her cheek.

  "Honey Bee, I know she did."

  29

  Sutton

  Leaving Leah's room, I find Madigan in the hall. She holds her lips rolled tight. Her eyes are downcast, her cheeks flushed. When she looks up, her topaz gaze is shiny with the threat of tears.

  I yearn for the right to take her in my arms and offer her the comfort she so clearly needs.

  "Doctor Nygård is done with Caiden," she rasps. "He's ready to see you."

  "And you?" I ask, remembering her unusual behavior after the helicopter landed. Of all the people there, I was the only one she touched, albeit fleetingly.

  "Can we talk a little later?" She delivers the request with a jittery sigh. "Your mom is driving Adler and Emerson crazy, but I'm pretty sure it's you she wants to keep hugging."

  I nod. Maddy eyes the rip in my shirt, her gaze contouring its bloodied edges and the size of the bandage beneath.

  Taking a firm grip on my hand, she leads me down the hall.

  "Doctor first."

  Madigan leaves me with Nygård. When he finishes, Mama is there to claim me. She squeezes me then rubs her hands over my face like she's gone blind. When she cups the sides of my head, it is with considerable pressure.

  She offers a little shake.

  It's hard to tell if I'm in a hell of a lot of trouble with her, or if she just wants to chain me to her side so I won't do anything like yesterday ever again.

  I get my answer when Mama hugs me.

  "I think you have some things to make up for with Teddy."

  "I was just the angel sitting on his shoulder, Mama. He came back a hero. He's got bragging rights for the rest of his life for how he kept that bird up in the air!"

  She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Angel my double-wide biscuits. And he's sixty-nine…so you better make sure he has plenty of opportunities to brag while he still can."

  I kiss her forehead then extricate myself from her arms.

  "I believe I have another niece hiding somewhere in this house—and I haven't seen her, let alone held her in my arms."

  Mama drops the lecture and leads me to the nursery. Sage sits in a cozy chair with her feet up and a contented smile on her face. The baby is in Siobhan's arms as she sits in the rocking chair.

  Grinning, my cousin looks up at me. "Told you I'd get to hold her first, loser."

  Reaching the rocking chair, I motion her to get off her butt and hand me the baby.

  "Come on, give her up."

  "Fine," Siobhan laughs as the infant grunts. "I'm pretty sure she just made a homecoming present for her Uncle Sutty."

  Taking the baby, I lower my weary body onto the rocking chair. Her red hair is fine as down. The midnight blue eyes are open and slowly blinking.

  Sage moves until she is perched on the edge of the ottoman and within arm's reach of her daughter. She strokes the infant's head once then meets my gaze.

  "Sutton Lee Turk, allow me to introduce you to your niece, Dorothea Isabelle Turk."

  I stroke at the baby's hand until her fingers uncurl.

  "Hello, Dotty Belle."

  Mama laughs.

  Sage groans.

  Dotty Belle just squirms and offers another grunt. This time it's clear what the little stinker has done.

  "I've got her," Mama offers. Bending to retrieve the baby, she feathers a kiss on my forehead. "You and I aren't done talking, but I'll give you a day's reprieve."

  A look at Sage reveals that she is still fatigued from the birth and the chaos that followed. I give her hand a gentle pat.

  "You need to get some rest, little mama. Nygård said the last of the searchers are rounded up, moving together in large groups and safely on their way back. All the excitement is done. Enjoy your daughter and take care of yourself."

  She rolls her hand so her palm curls upward around mine. There's a flash of reprimand in her eyes, but then she laughs and clasps my hand more firmly.

  "I seem to remember that your last return home after some scary heroics were followed by a wedding not long after."

  Her tired face brightens with an ear-to-ear grin.

  I kiss her cheek and whisper.

  "Don't jinx it, dear sister."

  Feeling like I have a short window of time before someone drags me somewhere to lecture or advise or hug the stuffing out of me, I go in search of Madigan.

  I check the guest rooms, the library, the great room and kitchen. When I do find Maddy, it is nowhere I would have expected—in the playroom next to Sage's office.

  Leah is not only with her, but resting in Madigan's arms. They sit on a jumbo bean bag, one of the preschooler's beloved books closed and to the side.

  They don't notice me at first. I stand quietly and watch. Leah is whispering, telling Madigan about my sister Dawn. Madigan listens intently. The exchange between them is sweet to watch—and wholly remarkable.

  It is remarkable because Leah is touching Madigan, the trace of the child's fingers against the curve of Maddy's cheek as soft as her whispers. She touches Maddy's ear, examines a lock of the thick red hair, then plants a palm against Maddy's cheek before repeating the process.

  From the little I know of Maddy's past reactions to my own touches and from observations of the same sensory issues with Caiden, Maddy should be climbing the wall.

  But she is serene—serene in such a way that I doubt my memory of what she looked like that day in Seattle as she stood in the lobby with Emerson, her bags at her side so she could leave me once again.

  That was a trance. This is something else.

  "Hey, is there a tea party I wasn't invited to?"

  The question isn't mine. It belongs to Jake as he comes out of Adler's office and spots me in the playroom's doorway.

  "I need a pot of coffee, not a cup of tea," I laugh as my gaze flicks to Madigan. "I just need to talk to Agent Armstrong for a few minutes before I crash for a couple hours…or days."

  Jake claps me on the back then squeezes past me to reclaim his daughter. "I think Uncle Sutty isn't the only person who needs a nap."

  "Stay with me, daddy?"

  "Until you fall asleep," he agrees. "Gam-Gam is planning a big barbecue to thank everyone who searched. So I need to help her get it set up."

  I stand to the side so Jake can pass with Leah cradled against his chest. She reaches out, her small hand brushing my arm.

  "Love you, Sutty."

  It takes me a second to reply because the sweet gesture chokes me up.

  "Love you, too, baby girl."

  I wait until father and daughter turn the corner before I look at Madigan. She hasn't moved from the bean bag. I enter the room and plop a second bag next to her then collapse onto it.

  "You said we could talk."

  She turns to face me. Her lips roll and then she bites at the bottom one to stop the contortions. I take her hand and hold it tightly between both of mine.

  "You have to understand," she starts, her voice kept low. "There is no fairytale ending. It's not like we kiss three times and I'm cured. There is no cure."

  I bring her hand to my mouth and press my lips against her flesh.

  "No cure," I agree, eyelids growing heavy. "But there can be progress. And you sitting with Leah sure looked like progress."

  Her head bobs and she inches closer.

  "And I want to make as much progress as I can. The moment I found out Caiden was missing, I finally understood how much he means to me."

  I give her a smile and a nod but don't interrupt the flow of her words. I could have told Maddy how much the boy meant to her after she showed up on my front
porch wearing a summery dress but with her demeanor approaching panic.

  "And then," she continues, "you go out on a helicopter that's not supposed to be flying, in weather no one should be rappelling in…with cougars in the vicinity!"

  For a second, she turns green, but then her cheeks flush a soft pink.

  "I understand no one is perfect. I see it every day in my job. But I want to be good enough for you, for kids."

  She looks away, mouth flattening, throat tightening.

  "But I will always need reminders and coaching. I need called out when I retreat. I need someone who understands that, if I seem remote at times, I am not angry or hurt or depressed. I just…am. I am. That's all."

  Having Maddy share these feelings is too much to bear without holding her. I roll, capture her soft curves in an embrace and squeeze. I brush the hair obscuring her face, press my lips to hers.

  Maddy yields to the kiss. Endorphins rush through my body, dragging me toward sleep.

  "You need to be in bed," she teases. "Not snogging in a child's playroom with an FBI agent."

  "You're right. Well…sorta."

  I stand up, haul her to her feet and lead her to my childhood bedroom.

  "Mama and Daddy wouldn't let us have girls in the room with the door closed," I warn as I leave the door open.

  Maddy replies with a snort and an eye roll. "I definitely remember different rules with Ashley and Quinn before the weddings."

  "Yeah." I swipe at my grin but don't move to shut the door.

  Collapsing on the bed, I pat the space next to me. Madigan stretches out. I roll toward the wall, dragging her hand and half her arm with me. She presses her face against my shoulder. She takes a deep breath, her breasts pushing at my back, the air filtering past the fresh t-shirt I changed into.

  Before I know it, I am asleep. Deeply so. I don't feel Maddy get up and leave. But, when I wake, she is gone.

  A folded sheet of lilac paper rests against her pillow. I open the note. The handwriting is Maddy's, but the glitter and some of the language is Leah's.

  Helping Gam-Gam with the groceries for tonight's barbecue. Join us when you wake up, Sutty!

  Madigan returns before I leave the room. She finds me sitting up and stretching. I don't quite get the smile from her that I expect.

  Taking a seat on the bed, she rests her head on my shoulder and spills the bad news.

  "Teddy is flying us to the Billings airport. We have a flight booked for California. Our target is on the move."

  As I kiss the crown of her head, I offer her knee a light squeeze.

  "Okay."

  A note of disappointment colors my tone. She meets my gaze, cups my face and kisses me. Pulling back, she graces me with a tentative smile.

  "When I return from California, I'm putting in for a permanent assignment to the Billings office." She hesitates, lips sliding around like she has something else to say but shouldn't.

  It takes a few more seconds before she tells me.

  "This target we're chasing…he's a big catch. Emerson will probably get his Resident Agent in Charge. Most likely the Minneapolis office."

  She shrugs, puts her head on my shoulder again. "I don't care if it's Honolulu. I don't want to leave. I don't want to leave Caiden or Delia…"

  She looks up and holds my gaze, irrevocably capturing my heart at the same time.

  "I don't want to leave you."

  I am struck dumb by the admission. My throat tries to swallow my tongue. With the words trapped inside me, I kiss Madigan until I can manage to squeak out a few syllables.

  "When do you have to go?"

  There's a throat clearing. It's neither mine nor hers. Emerson steps into view. Seeing me and Maddy and the close proximity of our bodies, he rolls his eyes and answers my question.

  "Right now. I'm dropping a kiss on Leah's cheek then Mama's."

  His attention jumps from me to Madigan.

  "Teddy should be touching down at the stables in about twenty minutes."

  Not waiting for her reply, Emerson disappears from my doorway. Holding Maddy's hand, I walk with her to fetch her luggage. Then we head to the kitchen so she can say goodbye to Delia and Caiden.

  Ten minutes later, I stand in the dust and pray that the Maddy I'm waving goodbye to is the same Maddy who returns to me.

  30

  Maddy

  Throwing the rental car in park, I glance at my phone sitting in the cupholder. I've been running dark for days as Emerson and I chased Sprankle all the way down Interstate 5 toward Mexico. We might have lost him, too, if he hadn't craved one last sourdough burger and a side of onion rings from the Jack-in-the-Box located some eighteen-hundred feet from the border crossing.

  Criminals, no matter how successful, really are the biggest idiots on the planet.

  Grinning at the memory of Sprankle's takedown, I grab the phone and call Delia.

  She picks up within the first few rings.

  "Tell me you busted that nasty thug and are coming home."

  I'm delighted to tell her that is exactly why I called.

  "Great! How long do I have to wait to hug you?"

  Studying the structure in front of me, I try to tame my grin before answering.

  "Sometime tomorrow. Probably before afternoon. Depends on transportation and a thing or two I have to do first."

  "Oh…"

  "Plans?" I ask.

  "We were supposed to be at the ranch."

  My grin becomes unmanageable again.

  "No problem. I'll meet you there."

  "Lindy will be ecstatic to see Emerson."

  There is an ever-so-slightly droll undercurrent to her voice as she speaks of my boss. It has crept into her tone since Caiden's rescue. Once I get her alone in person, I'll work on figuring out what it all means.

  "I imagine Sutton won't mind seeing you," she teases.

  "I imagine he won't," I agree. "But the boss won't be with me. He's assisting with prisoner transport on this one."

  "Doesn't want the big fish to slip off the hook?"

  "Exactly." Glancing around me, I spot activity the next building over. An older woman is giving me the stink eye.

  "Have to go," I tell Delia. "Locals are getting suspicious."

  She laughs but then her tone sobers. "Wherever you are, love, stay safe."

  "Always," I agree. "Love you."

  She offers the same goodbye, the cheer in her voice genuine. Two weeks have passed since Caiden's rescue and she now sounds like her old self. If it weren't for Sutton and the rest of the Turk family in Willow Gap, I don't think she or Caiden would have recovered so quickly after his rescue.

  I bounce the phone in my hand. There's another call to make, but I'm nervous about it. Tension grips my spine and I want to be relaxed when I talk to Sutton.

  I slide the phone between my thighs then stretch for a few seconds. Pressing my palms against the sedan's ceiling, I walk them back until my shoulders are fully stretched. Then I wrap a hand around the opposing elbow and stretch the captured arm in the direction of the other shoulder.

  With the extended manhunt for Sprankle and all the attendant hours in vehicles and planes, I have perfected the art of car yoga. At least when it comes to the upper body.

  My butt, on the other hand, feels like it has turned to concrete.

  Dropping my arms, I let my shoulders sag and roll my neck. On the last roll, I look to find the woman standing in the same spot. Her attempt at spying on me, however, has moved from surreptitious to overt.

  I wave effusively then retrieve my phone and pull Sutton's number up from the contact list.

  Other than the last three days, we have spent a lot of time talking on the phone since Emerson and I left to hunt Sprankle.

  Calling anyone other than Delia used to be hell. I have a hard time reading people. Take away more than half of my clues as to what the person on the other end of the call might be thinking and I start to shut down.

  But that's not how it is with Sut
ton. Not anymore. He doesn't mind the long silences on the line that arise when I dive too deep into processing what he says. He doesn't retreat and hang up, doesn't rush to gloss over the silence. He just lets it be, secure in the knowledge that I have to think through certain things longer than others.

  Talking to him is its own therapy. Truly, I don't think there will ever be a cure. And I don't know that there actually needs to be one. I now see that, when surrounded by people who love and understand me, who know when to call me out or, better yet, how to draw me in, my Asperger's stops being a "condition."

  I no longer feel the need to analyze every last possible thing that has been said or could have been said or how someone who was neurotypical would reply so I can craft a normal sounding conversation.

  I am, at long last, living in the moment.

  That presence in the present gives me access to my feelings that I've never had. All the anxiety and fear about my place in the world and among people has surrendered space to other emotions. I have room to explore other feelings.

  Now I want to express those other feelings to Sutton.

  Cheeks hurting from how hard I'm smiling, I press the CALL icon on my phone.

  "Hey, Maddy baby!"

  Sutton's voice infuses me with instant warmth.

  "Hey," I answer back.

  "Buzzsaw was just about to dial you," he laughs.

  I have yet to meet the horse, but I have a lot to thank the beast for.

  "So you're at the ranch?"

  "Yeah. The vet just finished up with him. Buzz hates his tetanus shot. He needs me or Mama with him or the vet will be in for a spot of trouble."

  "You catch that guy?" he asks after a couple seconds too many of silence.

  "Yes," I answer. "Hey, listen, I thought I should tell you before someone else does."

  For the first time in two weeks, Sutton's voice fills with hesitation. "What is it?"

  I want to play my answer straight, but it's hard not to grin or laugh.