The Final Goodbye

by Brittney Sahin

  Riley grabbed the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. It was only their second round, but the bottle was now empty, thanks to the heavy pours.

  A few minutes of silence filled the room and a somber mood replaced the soft laughter. “You’re really going with Ben tomorrow to the mountains?” Mandy asked. “I don’t like you being alone with him.”

  “Really? And you just said—”

  “I was joking, babe. This is serious. That man burned a hole in your heart.”

  Mandy’s fierce loyalty was something Riley loved about her. It had taken her years to find a friend to trust again after Ben had left.

  “I have to do this for Ralph.”

  Mandy set her glass down and crossed her arms. “No, you don’t. Ralph probably wrote you that letter after he hit the bourbon too hard.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.” She’d gone back and forth on the decision to go all day and had finally ordered the ticket from her phone while still hunkered in bed.

  “If I didn’t have shifts all weekend, I’d be coming with you.” She stood, walked over to the window, and pulled back the curtains. Dust particles floated in the air, a reminder that Riley hadn’t cleaned her place since learning of Ralph’s death.

  “I’ll message you every day.”

  Mandy dropped the curtains and faced her. “How about every few hours. He could be an ax murderer for all we know.” Her hands became white-knuckled at her sides. “Speaking of, uh, murderers . . . any news on Ralph’s killer?”

  Her mouth went bone-dry at the mention of his death, and Mandy sat back beside her.

  “My mom found out the sheriff called in a homicide detective from a neighboring city.” Riley set her glass down. “The local department needed help, which was why it took so long for them to release Ralph’s body.”

  “Yeah, well, we don’t exactly witness a lot of crimes like this. I didn’t think the sheriff could handle such a gruesome—”

  Riley reached for her arm, cutting her off. “Wait, you know details?” Her heart raced, and her palms became clammy as she waited for Mandy to spill.

  “I work at a rumor mill, remember? Of course, I’ve heard stuff.” She pushed her long hair to her back. “I didn’t want to say anything unless you asked.”

  Riley stood and started pacing her small living room, torn as to whether she did, in fact, want to know.

  After a few minutes, she stopped and shook out the tension in her arms. “Tell me.”

  Mandy sat up straighter, pressing her palms to her light blue scrub pants, and expelled a deep breath.

  “Don’t sugarcoat it.” Riley bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to take back her words, because she knew, once she heard the truth, she’d be back in her PJs and in bed.

  How the hell would she be able to leave tomorrow while Ralph’s killer walked the streets? But what could she even do about it?

  Mandy stared at her lap. It was obvious that eye contact would be too difficult right now. “It looked personal, from what I heard. His aorta and pulmonary arteries were damaged from a stab wound to the chest. And, uh, his throat was slit.”

  He’d died.

  She knew that.

  But . . .

  The way he’d died—it didn’t seem possible.

  “Who would do that? Why?” She pressed her hands to her thighs, her chest rising and falling with quick inhalations.

  “What would you tell your patients right now? Deep breaths, right?” Mandy stood behind her, rubbing her back.

  She blew her cheeks full of air for a moment and stood upright. “I need to talk to Ben,” she announced and started for the door in a hurry.

  “Let’s think this through. It’s late, and someone was just murdered. You’re really going to walk outside . . . and to Ben’s, no less?”

  She didn’t have her purse, keys, or anything—but she was pissed, and she wanted to take her anger out on someone.

  Her palm landed on the door as she bowed her head against it. “I’m going there to yell at him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he deserves it,” she hissed.

  “Riley.”

  “Please, don’t try and stop me. He’s at the local inn down the street.” She knew Ben wouldn’t stay at his parents’ house—why would he? He’d left home and never looked back. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to get there.” Her chest began to tighten to the point of pain.

  “How do you even know what room he’s in?”

  “My mom told me—who else?” She whirled to face Mandy, noticing the faint lines of concern darting through her friend’s normally smooth forehead.

  She huffed out an exasperated breath. “If you’re going to go charging off into the night to take your anger out on your ex-best friend the least you could do is put some shoes on. Maybe even a bra?”

  Chapter Five

  “Aiden talked, didn’t he?” Ben asked, pressing the phone to his ear.

  A low voice rumbled through the line. “You can’t go back home for the first time in nearly fifteen years without me finding out about it,” Jake said.

  Ben plopped back on the uncomfortable bed. The mattress probably dated back to when Nixon was president. “Is the sun even up in London? Go back to bed, and don’t worry about me.” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes closed, remembering the last time he and Jake worked together.

  Jake had asked for an assist in taking down a terrorist, and ever since, the seed of doubt about running Logan Securities had been planted.

  He wanted to do something more exciting. More important.

  “Yeah, well, Aiden forgot the time difference when he woke my ass up.” Jake laughed. “But I’m glad he phoned.” There was a pause on the line, and he knew exactly what was coming—a lecture of some sort.

  There were only a few people on the planet who knew why Ben had left Alabama after Nate’s death. Ben had confessed the news one drunken night to his Marine buddies during his second deployment. Truths always poured out like free-flowing water whenever tequila was involved.

  But now he was wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Jake would feel the need to intervene because that’s what he and his friends did. They looked out for each other.

  They helped each other, even as civilians. Hell, especially as civilians. It was a brotherhood few outside the military could probably understand.

  “Don’t even start. I’m fine. Everything is—”

  “Then why have Ava hack the local police department to get you a homicide case file?” Jake interrupted.

  Ava was Aiden’s fiancée, and not only had she once worked for Homeland, she was also brilliant with computers. So, Ben had called in a favor to Aiden, another friend from his Semper Fi days.

  “I’m in over my head with this agency Alexa and I are setting up, so it’d be tough to fly back to the States right now—but say the word, and I’ll make arrangements. Regardless, you should get an assist if you’ve decided to become a detective.” His voice was serious, not a hint of sarcasm coloring his words.

  Jake had once been a special agent for the FBI, and his current girlfriend, Alexa, had been the female version of Bond for MI6, working in the cyber terrorism division. She and Jake were both do-gooders who couldn’t help but continue to fight the war on terror, even without badges.

  And every time Ben thought about it, he wondered if protecting bratty pop singers or asshole billionaires was a waste of his time and his talent, even if the money was good. Jake phoned him every week asking him to join forces. Was it time to say yes?

  “I don’t need your help, but I’ll be sticking around until the son of a bitch is caught. I’m at a hotel since my dad has a full arsenal at his disposal, and I know he can keep my mom safe. Hell, he’s already polished his shotgun.”

  “Let me get this straight. You go back home for the first time and don’t even stay with your parents?” A light chuckle rose and fell through the phone. “Man, you’re as bad as me.”

&nb
sp; “Come on, if I give my mom even an inch of hope I’ll move back, she’ll turn my old room into a tribute to the nineties. Punk bands and supermodel posters and all.”

  “Could be worse.”

  Ben smiled and sat upright, blinking his eyes open. “You don’t know my mom.”

  “But that’s not really why you’re not home,” Jake said, peeling back Ben’s shitty cover story. “You’re near Riley, aren’t you?”

  Fourteen years had passed, and she looked even more beautiful in her thirties than at eighteen.

  At the sight of Riley yesterday, his heart had slammed against his ribcage so hard it was as if he’d run twenty miles with his rucksack on.

  “And how the hell do you still remember her name?”

  “Steel trap. Well, you know, minus my amnesia earlier this year . . .”

  He could visualize Jake smiling and tapping at the side of his head. “Yeah, sure.”

  “But, you need to stop deflecting,” Jake said. “Have you seen her yet?”

  “At the wake yesterday.” Ben let out a frustrated sigh, hating how things had played out between them. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d arrived in town, and he hadn’t worked out possible scenarios ahead of time like he should have.

  “And?”

  And we have to spread a families’ ashes together. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

  His knuckles pressed down onto his thigh as his gaze flicked over to the open laptop. The screensaver was on, so he stood and typed in the password before staring at the image of Ralph. Ralph was sprawled out on the floor at his college office in a puddle of his own blood.

  Bile rose thick in his throat. He’d seen a lot of bodies over the years, but he’d never become desensitized to it.

  “She hates me.”

  “Can you blame her?” A dry laugh made its way through the phone. “You did take off and never even answer one of her goddamn emails. Kind of a dick move.”

  “And how come you never called me on my bullshit in Helmand?” They’d been one of the first battalions stationed at Camp Leatherhead in Afghanistan in 2009. Hundred-man tents and shitty chow halls at first before the base got its act together.

  “And why would I bust your balls when you could have very well taken a bullet for me on any given Sunday?”

  “Hell, any day of the week.” Ben cracked a smile, but it faded fast when he thought about how much Riley truly hated him, and rightfully so. “But still, you had permission to rip me a new asshole, so why the hell didn’t you?”

  Jake cleared his throat. “Why don’t we get back to the situation at hand. What happened to Nate’s dad?”

  “I overheard the ME talking about the murder at the pub last night. He was stabbed, plus took a knife to the throat.”

  “Fuck. Sorry, man. But, uh, what’s your plan? I know you. You’re like me. You won’t sit and twiddle your damn thumbs and wait around for the locals to find the asshole.”

  A hard rap at the hotel door had his mouth tightening.

  “It’s me.” Riley’s voice, normally like silk, was heavy and weighed down by her loss.

  But why the hell was she standing outside his room?

  “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll be sure to have someone fly in and check on you. Or I’ll find a way to come myself.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Ben shoved the foreign feeling of nervousness so far down his throat he almost choked. “Later.”

  After ending the call, he tossed the phone on the bed and started for the door. “Coming.” He hated the sudden crack in his voice.

  He swung open the door, and her brows darted inward as her golden-brown eyes traveled from his face down the length of his body. He was still in jeans and a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt. Had he changed into his nightwear—aka commando—she’d be staring at a six-foot-three naked body right now.

  He tapped a fist against his mouth and sidestepped out of the way to allow her entrance. He’d be damned if he’d have her outside in the dark, only the twitchy lampposts to keep her company.

  She didn’t move, though. She remained like a statue, observing him now with heavy-lidded eyes.

  Skinny jeans disappeared into short brown ankle boots and damned if the denim didn’t look as if it were glued to her thighs, showing off the obvious tone beneath. Her long-sleeved white shirt shouldn’t have been so sexy. It was high-necked and cotton, for Christ’s sake. But still—she couldn’t hide her perfect breasts without swapping her wardrobe out for some heavy-duty garbage bags.

  “You do realize a killer is on the loose, and you, what, drove here alone?”

  “I didn’t drive. I walked.” She finally came inside, brushing against his shoulder as she strode past him.

  He shut and locked the door, sliding the chain in place, and faced her with crossed arms and a firm, square stance.

  But he couldn’t stop himself from focusing on her plump lips. “Being a doc and all . . . not too bright to walk here with a killer on the loose.”

  “Yeah, well, I couldn’t drive because I had a few glasses of wine.”

  “Just great. Out in the dark and inebriated. Really fucking smart.” He dragged his palms down his face, wishing he could lock her up in a secure location until the son of a bitch who’d killed Ralph was either dead or on death row. Option one was preferable.

  “Watch your language.” She swallowed.

  “What? You have a side job as a Sunday school teacher?”

  A breath of air rushed from her mouth, but no words came with it. She only stared at him with contempt.

  Beautiful. Stunning. Exquisite. And those were the adjectives that sprang to mind when he thought about her looks. When it came to what he remembered about her on the inside—there were enough words to inspire a novel, and he wasn’t even a writer.

  “You shaved.” She tossed her small purse on the bed and faced him again, anger glinting in her eyes. “And cut your hair.”

  “Don’t go thinking you had anything to do with this.” He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw.

  A smile tugged at the edges of her lips, but it only lasted a fraction of a second. “Your mother, huh?”

  He rolled his eyes, not wanting to admit he’d shaved and gotten a haircut because his mom had driven him crazy about it from the moment he’d arrived.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Because this is your fault.”

  He pointed a finger at his chest. “What is ‘my fault’? And how much exactly did you drink?”

  “If you had stayed in Ralph’s life, maybe he’d still be alive,” she said pointedly, but then her lip tucked between her teeth.

  She didn’t mean it, and he knew it. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to take out her pain on someone. He didn’t mind being the target if it’d help her, and he also understood why he was such an easy target. He hated himself for having caused her any pain, but at eighteen, he’d thought he’d been making the right move.

  Looking at her now, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Shit, I shouldn’t be here. I’m pissed, and I want to yell at someone.”

  He moved to stand before her. “Be pissed at me.” His chest tightened at the sight of her quivering lip and the sheen in her eyes. She was going to cry. It was something that had shredded him when he was younger, and it had the same effect on him now. “I mean it.”

  Her hands pressed to his chest, and she clenched her jaw. “I hate you.”

  “I know,” he whispered.

  She pressed her balled hands even harder against his pecs, but he could take it. He could take everything she had in order to spend just two minutes with her.

  He missed her more than she could possibly know. More than he could ever allow her to know.

  She lifted her hands, closed her eyes, and tapped her fists gently against his chest. “Harder,” he commanded, and she barreled a few jabs that were more like featherweight punches.

  And then sh
e collapsed against him, a sudden sob seizing hold of her.

  With his arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on her head, he closed his eyes and sifted through the memories of their past when they were sixteen and at the school dance.

  “You’re everything to me; you know that, right?” Riley asked.

  “I couldn’t imagine my life without you, Ri.” Ben winked and stepped back when Nate appeared at their side. He allowed Nate to take over, knowing that his buddy was hopelessly in love with her.

  And so, right now, Ben used all of his strength to tear his arms free of her and to step back, even though she needed him.

  Even now, he couldn’t trust himself to be the good guy.

  Nate was the good man, the better man.

  Ben couldn’t be him.

  Riley swiped at her face, trying to dry the tears still on her cheeks. “I should go.” She turned to grab her purse off the bed, but then she stopped, and her attention focused on his open laptop.

  Damn the twenty-minute time setting on his screensaver because that meant the image of Ralph was still there.

  He rushed to the desk and snapped the laptop closed. “You don’t need to see that.”

  She pointed to the computer, the sadness gone, replaced by irritation again. “How do you have that picture?”

  He didn’t know what to say. He knew she wouldn’t back down now. Fourteen years or not, Riley was still Riley. Beautifully stubborn.

  “Did the police give you access to the files?” Her mouth remained open even after she finished talking, disbelief in the faint lines of her forehead.

  He turned his back and gripped the top of the desk chair. “Not exactly.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” She huffed out a breath. “Ugh, never mind. Just tell me if there are any suspects.”

  He cleared this throat. “The police are working their way through Ralph’s student roster. They’re assuming it was a crime of anger. His home and office weren’t touched.”

  “Who the hell kills their teacher because of grades or whatnot? Ralph was the nicest guy. It’s not like he’d ever heckle a student or something. This is absurd.”

  He agreed, but . . . “Look at the world we live in today. It really shouldn’t be all that surprising, unfortunately.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “I checked into the detective the sheriff brought into town. He has twenty years of experience. He’s good.” Ben hoped she’d believe him. Hell, he hoped he could believe his own words. “This guy will catch the killer.”