All My Heart (The Clover Series)

by Stewart, Danielle

  “Give me a hand with this, son?” Dr. Patel asks as he hands me the crowbar and gestures for me to open the casket as though I’m popping off the top of a soda can. I take the cold metal bar into my hand but then hesitate. I know what dead bodies look like. Roadside bombs. Burned out buildings. The medic tent after a raid. But I’ve seen them all over there. Back here, at home, is supposed to be where I get away from all of that. I find the best way to cope with coming back from a war zone is to compartmentalize. My brain is full of boxes. Little boxes that I stuff thoughts and memories into. The images of dead bodies are stuffed down deep and I’m not ready to pry the lid off of it . . . or off this casket.

  “Weak stomach?” Patel asks, and I can tell he’s smiling behind his medical mask.

  “Flashbacks,” I admit, feeling like it’s better to say it out loud than try to hide it. That’s what they tell us anyway. When we’re heading home and they start broaching the topic of PTSD we all shrug it off like it won’t happen to us. But the nightmares do come. I just try not to let it consume me. And I know flipping this casket open is a sure fire trigger that I can’t afford.

  “Ah yes, sorry. Marine?” he asks as he waves Nick over and I step back out of view.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I thank you for your service.” Patel and Nick lift the top of the casket.

  “I thought this victim died in a fire? His body isn’t burned at all. Are we sure we have the right casket?” Patel walks around to the side and checks the plate indicating the name and identification number against the paperwork he had folded up in his pocket.

  Nick rubs his tired eyes as he recalls history. “The reports were all destroyed, but if my memory serves me, the cause of death was ruled smoke inhalation. He was knocked unconscious by a blunt object and then died during the fire. I remember seeing the house. It wasn’t badly burned—they found it quickly and put it out. The house is still standing. Hoyle lives in it. Repairs were started within a few days of the fire.”

  I bite my tongue, remembering that Nick knows nothing about the original medical examiner’s notes which indicate Brent was shot.

  “There is far less decomposition than I would have assumed. Cause of death and pathology should be fairly easy. There may even be trace forensics here on the body that could become evidence.” Patel reaches into his bag and pulls out a sealed plastic tarp. He rips it open and places it over the body, and then the lid of the casket is closed. “You have means to transport this to me, right?” he asks Lenny as he strips the rubber gloves off.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve got orders to bring it to the forensic lab in Oxberry, about twenty minutes from here.”

  “We’re going to have a security agent assigned to you as well. We have reason to believe parties involved do not want evidence to be uncovered and could possibly try to sabotage what you’re doing,” I say from a safe distance away from them, keeping my eyes fixed on the tree line.

  “Exciting.” Patel smiles as he unfastens the mask. I turn to get a look at his gap-toothed grin for the first time. He has a kind face and I wonder how anyone does what he does every day.

  “I should have preliminary findings to present tomorrow as long as the building in Oxberry has sufficient equipment. Thank you both for your assistance.”

  I wave over one of my men who has been patrolling the grounds, and he jogs over to me. “Ben, this is Dr. Patel. He’ll be handling the autopsy. You are not to let him or the body out of your sight. The location of the autopsy has not been made public but it wouldn’t be impossible for Hoyle to figure it out. It would be wise to expect some form of trouble from them. Take another man with you and treat this as though the threat were imminent.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben says and escorts Dr. Patel to his car.

  Nick steps to my side and folds his arms across his chest. “Flashbacks?” he asks in a slightly hushed voice.

  “They aren’t bad. I know a lot of guys who have them much worse. I just don’t think seeing another kid dead before his time would help me much.” I busy myself by brushing some invisible dirt off Brent’s headstone. “You think they’ll figure out who killed him?”

  “Dr. Patel seems very competent. I’m sure if anyone can get the evidence together it’s him.”

  “Who do you think did it?” I ask, wondering if Nick believes Rebecca had anything to do with the murder.

  “I don’t know. I think it probably was Hoyle, even though I don’t want to believe a man could kill his own son. I hold my boys at night and I can’t imagine how someone could hurt his own child. But I remember things were pretty intense between those two. I just want this settled in court. I know arresting him now wouldn’t have gotten us the answers we need.”

  “Brent doesn’t sound like he was a very good guy.” I don’t like speaking ill of the dead—my mother would slap me right now if she heard me—but I’m trying to work all this out in my head.

  “He was a good kid when we were little. He and I were in Boy Scouts together. Then we played baseball in the same league. He was always a mama’s boy. Mrs. Hoyle was his biggest cheerleader. I actually remember wishing she were my mom. She brought all the snacks to our games. She was just one of those moms who thought of everything. But once he started peewee football things started to change. He had a real knack for football and Hoyle pushed him hard. He was always a mean bastard but especially on the football field. A bully. When Brent made the junior varsity team at school he changed. That whole pack mentality kicked in and he started acting like an entitled ass, pushing his way through school, barreling everyone over like he owned the place. He bulked up really fast and turned into a gym rat. You could find him there every morning lifting weights before school, then again after practice. It seemed like he just started turning into his dad. He treated Rebecca like shit, and when Devin came to town he snapped. He had a terrible temper that came out of nowhere.”

  “Why did Mrs. Hoyle leave town?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but the rumor was she just couldn’t stay here anymore. She was going kind of crazy I think. She and Hoyle were never the same after Brent’s death, and I can understand that. I don’t know how I’d cope. That was her only child, her baby. If Hoyle did kill Brent, I don’t think his wife knows about it. I can’t imagine what she’ll do when she finds out.”

  “You don’t think Rebecca had anything to do with it, do you?” I’m treading lightly but I think it’s important to know where Nick stands.

  “I think we’ll find out more tomorrow. And unfortunately, no matter what it is, it won’t bring Brent back. It won’t make Devin feel any better, even though he’s convinced it will.”

  “You don’t think finding the real killer will give him some peace, some justice?”

  “No. I’ve lived long enough to realize the real peace doesn’t come from chasing ghosts and vendettas. It comes from tucking your kids in and dancing around the kitchen with your wife. When you spend your time trying to make sense of what’s behind you, it’s easy to lose a grip on what’s in front of you. That’s what Devin is doing. I don’t know what he did to piss Rebecca off, but I saw her that day she kicked him out at the jail, and she meant business.”

  “He’ll fix it. He has to.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Nick asks, pulling his car keys from his pocket.

  “None of this works if they don’t find a way to be together. We can fix Clover, we can help people, even solve this murder, but if the two of them don’t find their way, it won’t matter. He has to fix this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rebecca

  I see Olivia holding a white envelope and I already know what it is. I can tell by the handwriting, the curve in the way my name is scrawled across the front, that it’s from Devin.

  “I’m sorry it’s already been opened, but that’s the protocol here,” Olivia explains apologetically as she slides it through the bars and into my hands. I want to tell her to take it back, return to sender, but I can’t. It’s so painfull
y quiet and lonely in here that this letter, this glimpse into the outside world, feels like a meal to my starving heart.

  Olivia steps out of view and I peer into the torn open envelope and see a piece of Adeline’s construction paper. I pull it out and it smells like her crayons. Tears fill my eyes instantly. I have this illogical fear she’ll forget me. She’ll think Jeannie is her mother now. I know a few more days apart won’t cause that, but still, when I let the thought creep into my brain I can feel my airway closing.

  I unfold the paper and see Devin has written over a few swirls of Adeline’s blue crayon marks. It feels perfect to me, as though the letter is from both of them. I don’t have high hopes Devin will have the right words or will understand what he did to hurt me so deeply. But the fact that he wrote to me means something. Or at least I hope it will.

  Dear Rebecca,

  I am a fool. A reckless, selfish, blind fool who does not deserve your love or the love of your daughter. I know that now as I sit here in the house I bought you and then deserted you in. It’s so empty without you in it. So is my heart. So are my arms. There are things I should have told you, things I should have been telling you all along; I just didn’t know how to say them.

  I fell in love with you outside chemistry class and never once, for all these years, did I fall out of love with you. You became the most important and special thing in my life, even when we weren’t together. I measured everything against my love for you and it always fell short. Work, money, other women—they were nothing compared to the love I have for you. And for a long time that terrified me. I didn’t want to love that much, to need so deeply. But now, as I realize the mistakes I have made with your heart, I understand the fear I thought I felt is nothing compared to the fear of losing you forever.

  It looked easier to be the one on the outside writing to the one on the inside, but I can see now it is not. Feeling helpless, being alone even in a sea of people, is as hard as it was being locked in prison. I didn’t give that enough consideration. I didn’t put myself in your shoes. Another way I’ve underestimated your strength.

  I do not deserve you, but I hope that is something you can overlook, because I need you. I’m sorry for what I said. For how irresponsible I was with your love. The only thing scarier than having so much of your love is having none of it. I will make this right. I’m not talking about getting you out of jail or righting old wrongs, I am talking about what I did to you. How badly it must have hurt to sit across from me and realize you didn’t have my complete support and trust. How awful it must have been to hear me accuse you, even if that wasn’t my intention. When I was in your shoes years ago, if you had done that to me, I would have been destroyed. I’m not sure I would have recovered. But you are infinitely stronger than I am. You’re more compassionate and forgiving. I’ve never been more confused and tangled up in my life, and I am eternally sorry those feelings spilled over onto you.

  I promise you when we are together again you will have the man you always hoped I could be. The person you always dreamed of. You have my word that I will spend all my time and all my energy making sure you and Adeline have all my love, and not just half my heart, but all of it. You both own all my heart.

  Love, Devin

  I read the letter three or four more times, trying to savor every word as I catch my tears, not wanting them to stain the paper. I vowed to be angry with him forever. To bottle up the love I have for him and store it away, because he is not worthy of it. There is a very good chance he still has miles left to go on this journey, but I want to be there to see him turn into the man I know he can be. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I’ve asked myself a hundred times how many chances I’d give him. How long I’d wait, how far I’d go, and I still don’t have the answer. All I know is it must be a little farther, a little longer, because I’m not ready to give up on him yet.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Click

  “Well you all look anxious,” Kurt says as he steps into the house and sees Devin, Jordan, Nick, Luke, and me.

  “We’re eager to get an update on how your team is doing,” I say as I offer him a seat at the table.

  “Couldn’t be better. Just as we figured, having Rebecca behind bars and rumors spreading that Krylon might pull out of the deal has them all feeling very cocky. We’ve got at least nine people who’ve incriminated themselves over the phone. We have four Marshals that have been identified by Duncan, your informant, and we’ve got tails on them. Each one has had contact with the drug ring or someone involved and we have enough evidence to at least get them tied to conspiracy. There has been chatter about Rebecca but no concrete threats considering the security you have on her. They don’t seem too happy about that. Now, did you address the issue at the medical examiner’s office?” he asks me as I scroll through the messages on my phone.

  “Yes, once you alerted me, Hoyle made phone calls trying to identify where Brent’s body was being taken. He alluded to the fact that he intended to stop the autopsy, so I added four additional men to the scene. They are heavily armed and I’ve gotten word things are all clear so far,” Click asserts.

  Luke pulls up a chair as he fills us in as well. “I heard from the lawyer. He said the medical examiner gave an update and he’ll have the report ready in the morning. The judge has ordered a hearing for first thing so he can present his findings.”

  “We’ll be ready in the morning as well,” Kurt says, jotting down some notes on a small pad he’s pulled from his pocket. “We have teams ready to strike each trailer. We have a boatload of audio and video evidence, and one of these guys will eventually flip on Hoyle.”

  “Are you banking on that? Shouldn’t we have hard evidence on him first?” Devin asks, skeptical of the plan.

  “In an ideal scenario, yes, but he’s very smart with his communications. We’ve had a tail on him since the moment we rolled into town and he hasn’t slipped up. We could wait a few more days or weeks but we can’t run the risk of spooking someone and ruining the investigation we have. And, I’m sure Rebecca doesn’t want to spend that long in jail. There is no loyalty among these guys. We already have a sworn statement from Duncan that Hoyle is the boss. If we get one more guy to verify that, he’s done. We’ll link the money to him, and it will be over. Shit, who knows, by tomorrow morning it sounds like he could be going to jail for killing his own son. In my opinion it’s best we round this all out in one day. Let all the hammers come down at once and not risk anyone being tipped off. We have the element of surprise and need to take advantage of it.”

  Devin nods his head, looking unconvinced but obviously without a good rebuttal.

  “Well, I’ll head out then. I’ll be in touch a few times tonight to see if anything’s changed. Otherwise, I’ll be here first thing in the morning.” Kurt pulls his coat on and heads out the door, a cigarette already between his lips and anxious for a light.

  “I’ll try to have everything decoded in the book by then in case there is any need for more information or to corroborate what’s been found,” Jordan says as she pulls her hair into a messy knot and rubs her tired eyes. I know she’s been working hard to find the answers and has taken her eye off the job she was sent here to do, but she doesn’t seem to mind it. She seems dedicated to this and it makes me want to kiss her. I don’t get easily distracted from the task at hand, but I find myself staring at her neck and aching to touch her. Then I remember where Rebecca is and get my ass focused on what needs to be done.

  “I need everyone’s help with one more thing,” Devin says uneasily. “I really believe Rebecca will be coming home tomorrow, that all of this will be resolved and she’ll be freed. I have some work to do to make things right between us. I already have a lot of it started, but I need more help to pull it off.”

  “What are you going to do?” Jordan asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him.

  Devin reaches in his bag and pulls out the stack of letters Rebecca sent him while he was in prison. “I’ve been carrying th
ese around with me for years . . . reading them over and over again . . . and I always looked at them as something she did for me. But when I really looked closer I realized they were a road map to the life she always wanted for herself. Right here is a list of her hopes and dreams and I want to give them to her.”

  “Like what?” Luke asks, taking a couple of the letters from Devin and scanning them quickly.

  “Everything. Every detail of what she wanted for herself is right there.”

  “And you want to pull this stuff off by tomorrow?”

  “No. I know I won’t be able to do that. But I want to take her away from here, with Adeline. We could go on a vacation and when we come back all of this could be waiting for her.”

  The hopefulness in Devin’s voice is such a dramatic change from what we are all used to hearing that the looks on all our faces match. It’s a mix of surprise and tentative happiness.

  Jordan is the first to speak as she takes a few of the letters. “I’ll help. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get fired for how this deal is turning out so far. Delays, injuries, and all this bad press, I’m sure they’re already looking for my replacement. So I’ll need something to keep me busy. This could be fun. We’ll have a week?”

  “Yes. I’ll take Adeline and Rebecca away on a trip and when we come back I’ll be able to give her the life she’s always wanted.” Devin hands Jordan the rest of the letters. “It’s all in there. Every detail.”

  “I’m heading home. This isn’t up my alley. But Jeannie will be happy to pitch in, I’m sure,” Nick says as he tips his hat goodbye. “It’s a big day tomorrow. Everything we’ve been working for comes to a head. Keep your guards up, eyes open. Stay alert.” Nick disappears and I watch Devin point out important things in the letters to Jordan. His excitement is so out of character, yet suits him so perfectly.