Final Verdict

by Jessica R. Patch

Was that why she’d been so quiet? Not fear but guilt? Or both? “It’s—”

  “Your duty. I know. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty. But I do thank you.”

  Ah. Guilt. And a fair amount of fear. Was it just his duty? Something about that engine falling had sent his heart into a dizzying spiral. When was the last time he’d been that terrified for someone? That worried? That desperate to protect?

  His chest tightened and he clutched the wheel.

  Meghan.

  “So you want to talk about who was on that phone?”

  His phone rang. Beckett peeked at it lying on the console. Wilder Flynn. “Can you hit the decline button for me?”

  Aurora paused and gawked at him but then hit the red button. “Who are you avoiding?”

  Beckett sighed. “A friend who keeps offering me a spot on his team. Shoving it at me, really.”

  Aurora perked up and shifted in her seat. “What kind of team? Where?”

  He hadn’t talked about it with anyone. Briefly, he’d tossed it out to Mama while having Sunday dinner, but she’d ignored him as if it wasn’t worth hearing. Which meant it bothered her—him going off again to potentially hazardous assignments. He owed her a few years of peace.

  But he’d been pressing Aurora to open up, and fair was fair. He brushed off the fact he had a strange desire to confide in her. “Well, since you’re a lawyer, you have to keep it confidential, right?”

  “Only if you put me on retainer.” She rubbed her thumb against her index and middle fingers.

  “Saving your life counts as currency, I’d think,” he teased.

  “I suppose it does. Did you ever imagine having me as your attorney?” Her mouth opened as mock surprise filled her face.

  He chuckled. “Certainly not. But I don’t need a defense to decline this offer. I have one. I just need Wilder to take the hint.”

  “Wilder?”

  “Flynn. My best friend. We were SEALs together.” His voice strained as he fought to control his emotions. “And I was engaged to his sister Meghan.”

  “Oh.” Aurora tapped the end of her nose. “Didn’t work out between you? Afraid you’ll have to see her if you move down there?”

  Grief washed over him like white waters. “No,” he murmured. “She died the night before we got married.”

  Aurora rubbed his bicep. The small gesture eased the soreness. “I’m so sorry, Beckett.”

  He gave a solid nod. What was there to say? It’s okay? It wasn’t okay. Beckett could have saved Meghan, but he’d gotten there too late. He’d ignored his instincts earlier in the night to force her to stay in the same room with him for protection. Who cared about gossip? Who cared what people thought when she could be in danger? Who cared about traditions? But she’d thrown up every one of those. They were entering a pure marriage, and she didn’t want anyone to think they weren’t. Plus, yada, yada, yada, and he’d caved, knowing she’d been sent flowers that morning at the bed-and-breakfast with a note, reminding Meghan she belonged to someone else and demanding that she break off the wedding.

  He had thought being across the yard in a small guest cottage would be enough.

  But it hadn’t been.

  “Beckett, I didn’t mean to force you into talking about what is clearly a painful memory. I apologize.”

  For a shrewd, tough attorney, Aurora was turning out to be a very tender woman. He almost wished she wouldn’t be. It’d make the conflicting feelings inside him easier to deal with.

  “Meghan had been stalked for a year. The first several months, I was on a tour and didn’t know. But during the last two, I was home. I popped the question at the airport. Impulsive, but I knew what I wanted.”

  “To spend the rest of your life with her.”

  He clenched his teeth and gained some composure. “We went to dinner later that night. Afterward, I paid the bill and Meghan headed to the front door. A man approached her, and I could tell she was uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if it was the intimate way he got in her face and touched her or if it was because of me seeing it.”

  “She was cheating?”

  “No. She was being stalked. But I caused a scene with the guy.” He regretted that. Beckett was sure it was what had triggered the stalker’s swift aggression and violence. “She told me it had been going on awhile. Didn’t want to worry me. So the couple of times I’d called her while overseas, she’d never mentioned it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I found him and had more words.” Mistake. “He was the mayor’s son. So guess what?”

  “No one did anything about it.” Her sour tone rang clear. She understood. According to her, no one had done anything to help Richie, either. After the interview earlier with Detective Holmstead, Beckett believed her.

  “No, they did not. But I got a warning. And a lecture on PTSD.” Anger surged again. Not that he didn’t have some PTSD, but that hadn’t been fueling his rage against Parker Hill, the stalker turned murderer. “Then in the middle of the night, he got into her room and strangled her. I was less than fifty feet away.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, then exhaled. “So this offer?”

  Relieved she’d moved on from that tragic night, Beckett sighed. “Wilder started a crisis-management firm after she died. In Atlanta. He was gonna go into private security anyway, but it’s how he’s dealt with her death. He’s got a great team and a great reputation. They’re doing excellent, but...”

  “You’ll be reminded every day of losing her. And not being able to help her.”

  Aurora had nailed it on the head. But, also, the tasks at times were high risk, and he had Mama to think about. And after what he’d almost done to Parker Hill...could he even trust himself if he got emotionally involved in a case?

  “Something like that,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault, you know.”

  He exited the ramp. “It’s not yours, either—about Richie dying in prison.” Seemed they had exceedingly more in common than he’d imagined. Pain. Loss. Regrets. Outrage.

  “Maybe not—”

  A terrible noise screeched through the car and the steering wheel shuddered.

  “What’s happening?” Aurora hollered and braced herself.

  The car jolted and Beckett put some muscle into the steering wheel.

  “Beckett!”

  They were headed straight for the overpass.

  He focused and fought to control the car and keep it from going over the side. If he could get to the edge.

  Metal scraping against concrete sent sparks flying around the driver’s side.

  They’d lost a wheel.

  “Hold on, Counselor!” he managed as the passenger side of the car smashed into the concrete guardrail, metal now crunching. Aurora shrieked.

  He guided the car past the overpass and careened into the ditch, narrowly missing a tree. He braked and they lurched forward, Aurora letting out a hiss as the seat belt cut into the tender skin around her neck.

  Beckett freed her from the constricting belt and tilted her head to the side for a better inspection of her injury. Blood had already surfaced, and skin had been rubbed away. He touched the wound and she winced. “Sorry.”

  “I’m fine.” She groaned and rubbed her thigh.

  He pointed to her leg. “Are you hurt? Do you need me to take a look?”

  “No.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I wish I could have guided us better.” Wished he could have kept her from being hurt altogether.

  “Beckett, what you did was incredible.”

  He opened the driver’s-side door, hopped out and then leaned in, reaching for her. “Your door isn’t going to open. Come on.”

  She maneuvered herself in his direction. He pla
ced his hands under her arms and lifted her out of the car. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m a little the worse for wear, but alive. And thankful.” Her arms rested on his biceps. He didn’t make a move to back up. She didn’t, either. After a few beats, she broke contact. “Did we have a blowout?”

  Beckett squatted and examined the front driver’s side where the wheel was missing. He viewed the wheel studs and ground his teeth. “No. Someone loosened the lug nuts.”

  “What?” She bent at the knees, inspecting. “You’re right. The wheel studs aren’t broken off. If it’d been a blowout, they would have been.” She shivered. “If I’d have been driving...I don’t know if I could have controlled the vehicle like you did. I would have gone straight off the overpass. I would have—”

  He cut off her sentence by wrapping his arms around her, offering her comfort. “Don’t go there. You’re here. You’re alive. And we’re going to get who did this.”

  She burrowed into his chest and he smoothed her hair until she finally spoke. “They had to have done this a day or so ago. It’d take that long for the lug nuts to release.”

  This woman knew her cars. He couldn’t control the flare of admiration and attraction. “You’re right.”

  “That night you chased the attacker. What if he’d loosened my lug nuts before entering my house?” She broke away from his embrace and wrapped her arms around her middle.

  The time line matched.

  “It’s likely. We’ll print your car, but...”

  “Probably find zip. I know. Just like no prints on my bathroom window. No hits on the shoe treads you took from my bathtub or the trace on my phone.”

  “Well, you were right about one other thing, too,” Beckett said as he drew his phone to call a deputy to pick them up. They were about twenty minutes from Hope.

  “What’s that?”

  “The jerk wasn’t finished with your car. Be thankful you didn’t fork out the dough to have the paint fixed.”

  She stared at him a moment and chuckled before it turned into a full-blown belly laugh. He laughed with her until the dispatcher answered.

  Sighing, she leaned back against the car and quivered. He hung up and shrugged off his coat, wrapping it around her.

  “You’ll get cold,” she protested.

  He ignored her and tugged it tighter. “We could get in the backseat. Warm up.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Indignation rose in her voice.

  Beckett held up his hands. “I mean inside, where Old Man Winter can’t beat us to death.”

  The offensive glare transformed into graciousness. “After you.”

  “No, after you.” He opened the door and she crawled inside the car. No, he wasn’t going to put his arms around her and bring her warmth, but the yearning to do so needled his ribs, along with the worry that the attacks were escalating by the second and he had to do whatever was necessary to protect Aurora.

  * * *

  Aurora sat at the small corner table of Sufficient Grounds nursing a caffè mocha. She’d finally thawed out after the twenty-minute wait for Deputy Ferrell to arrive. Beckett had vouched for him, but Aurora had a hard time trusting anyone. She rolled her head around, working the stiffness from her neck. Her thigh was tender, but other than that she was operating on all cylinders.

  Beckett had her car towed, but it was totaled. Guess he was now her new chauffeur. Not that she couldn’t rent a car, but what was the point when he’d pretty much declared he was her new bodyguard? Surprisingly, she didn’t mind. Not that she wasn’t a strong, capable woman. But it was nice to have a man like Beckett come to her aid and show some chivalry. She closed her eyes. Could still smell the scent from his warm coat. Sweet and woodsy.

  “What are you all off in la-la land about?” Blair McKnight stood with a hand on her nonexistent baby bump.

  “Nothing. Have a seat. You here for a coffee?”

  “Fake coffee.”

  “Decaf?”

  “Ugh. Just put my order in.” She sat across from her. “I know that look, Aurora. I’ve had that look. I still get that look.”

  Heat filled Aurora’s cheeks. “And what look is that?”

  “You’re smitten.”

  Aurora snorted. “I don’t get smitten.”

  Blair slanted her eyes and poked a finger at her. “You do now. Because you are. Beckett’s a great guy. He can be intense sometimes, but that’s because he takes his job seriously.”

  There might not be a truer statement.

  “He’s not seeing anyone, either. Maybe he hasn’t met the right woman.” Her tone was laced with all sorts of innuendo.

  No. He had. She’d been killed or he’d be married right now. Speaking of right now, Aurora wasn’t comfortable with this conversation. She wasn’t smitten. She was too levelheaded. She was attracted to Beckett, admired and respected him. Appreciated him. But she wasn’t smitten. She couldn’t be.

  At the end of the day, they worked on two different sides of the law. They didn’t see eye to eye, and that would never work. Who knew, he might decide to move to Atlanta when all was said and done, which left her with an unsettling feeling. Hope wouldn’t be the same without Beckett Marsh.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, Aurora. I was teasing. Well, not really. You do seem smitten. Or...you did. Now you have upset written all over your face.”

  “No. I mean, I am upset.” She told her what had happened earlier. “But I can’t stop investigating. I have to bring justice to Richie’s name. I owe him that. He deserves it.”

  Blair gripped Aurora’s hand. “I understand. I’ll be praying for you and Beckett. You know, you may not know who is doing this, but God does. So I’m believing He’ll lead you guys to the savage and keep you safe in the meantime. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

  Blair had been through a lot when the cartel had come after her. It’s when she’d fallen in love with Holt. “Thank you for the prayers.” She wasn’t sure they’d reach heaven’s ears. She’d prayed God would help Richie hold on until she could come to his aid. But He hadn’t heard. Or had chosen not to listen. He’d let Richie die, an innocent man deemed guilty.

  She needed a subject change or she might break down right here. And Aurora Daniels didn’t have breakdowns. Although she’d come close after the car wreck, when Beckett’s arms had lifted her into his safety and comfort. “How did you know you were in love with Holt and not just appreciative of him or swept up because of all the drama? I mean, it’s hard not to admire a man who’s sacrificing his life for you.” Not that she was in love with Beckett. Hardly.

  Blair laid her hand on her chest. “A man who’s willing to sacrifice his life for you is more than worth admiring. He’s worth loving. If it’s going down that road, you’ll know.”

  Katelynn called Blair’s name and she stood.

  “Hey, you won’t—”

  “Say anything to Holt? No way. Us girls got to stick together. Besides, he’d just shrug and say, ‘Sweet. What’s for dinner?’” She laughed and strolled to the counter.

  If she and Beckett didn’t have such opposing views, she might consider a relationship. But if he wouldn’t move because it was too painful, then was he even over Meghan? Good grief. Here she was contemplating falling for Beckett and he didn’t even think of her in a romantic way. He’d never once indicated he was attracted to Aurora. Comfort? Protection? Yes. Could she call those things romantic feelings for her? No.

  He was doing his duty. Beckett had as much as told her so and on more than one occasion. She was acting like a schoolgirl. She was no schoolgirl.

  What she needed was a good dose of reality, and she wasn’t going to get that from a newlywed. She placed her coffee cup in the tub by the door and walked across the street to the courthouse to talk to Kelly. If anyone would give
it to her straight, it was the judge.

  She ignored gawks from people hanging around the square, people still angry with her for defending Austin Bledsoe, and entered the courthouse, the smell of wood polish and something spicy smacking her senses. She strolled down the corridor to Kelly’s chambers, knocked and waited.

  No answer. She wouldn’t be in court this late in the afternoon. Aurora turned the knob and cracked the door. “Kelly?” She pushed it open and froze, blood whooshing in her ears and her head whirling.

  Kelly slumped in her leather chair, head lolling to the side.

  No. No.

  Something caught her eye; she blinked to make sure she was seeing straight. The room tilted. On the wall behind Kelly, the words Aurora Daniels Is Guilty had been spray-painted. She hoped it was spray paint. It was in bold red letters.

  She grappled for oxygen but forced herself to rush to Kelly’s limp side. She checked her pulse, though she knew it was too late.

  Kelly was dead. A brand-new grandmother. An important judge. Her mentor. The whole reason she’d come to Hope.

  And Aurora was to blame.

  Who could have gotten in here? Same man who’d gotten into her office. Beckett had said he hadn’t splintered the wood like at her home, but it could still be one and the same man. How could no one have seen him?

  And once he got inside, why hadn’t Kelly hit the security button under her desk to call a bailiff? Had she been blindsided? Had she known her attacker? If it had been Trevor Russell or another local citizen, she might have trusted them.

  Aurora fumbled for her phone and dialed the only person she did trust.

  Beckett.

  He answered on the second ring. “Counselor. The judge good with you spending a few nights with her?”

  Aurora closed her eyes, pushing back the burning tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Beckett.” Her voice cracked.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Kelly’s—Kelly’s dead.” She covered her mouth and turned away from the sight.

  “I’m pulling up to the courthouse now.” The line went dead and before she’d stumbled all the way to the door, Beckett bounded inside and wrapped Aurora in his arms. He stroked her hair and nestled her closer to him, his masculine scent bringing a steady rhythm to her wildly beating heart. “I’m so sorry, Aurora. But this isn’t your fault.”