Jessica Patch - Final Verdict

But Aurora might be.

He skidded to a halt and doubled back to Aurora’s, his pulse pounding in his temples.

He cautiously opened her front door.

He should have fought harder—demanded she stay elsewhere, done a drive-by sooner, staked out her place. He continued to mentally kick himself as he inched through her house.

His phone rang.

He ignored it.

“Counselor?” he called from the dining room, then worked his way warily down the hall.

Training his gun on her bedroom door, he toed it open a crack.

A pop sounded and he hit the floor. “Aurora! It’s Beckett!”

The door opened wider and she peered down at him, wild-eyed, gun in hand.

“Could you point that somewhere besides my head, please, ma’am?”

She slid her finger across the safety and lowered it. “Sorry. I tried to call you.”

Must have been the call he ignored. He stood. She was safe. “I heard a gunshot and saw someone running from the house.” He closed the distance between them and touched her cheek. “I’m sorry for letting you down.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s not your fault.”

Except it 100 percent was. “What happened?”

Aurora bit her bottom lip. “You’re going to be livid. I might have withheld some information.”

“What information?”

“Before you start getting all alpha male on me, let me tell the whole story.”

Alpha male? He’d laugh if he wasn’t half scared out of his mind. “Fine.”

She explained everything and with each word his blood pressure rose. “So you couldn’t identify him?”

“Like I said, he wore a ski mask.”

“And you’re not holdin’ back anything else? I know everything?” He clenched his teeth.

“Yes.”

He restrained from blowing a gasket, balled and released his fists, then repeated. “So I don’t need to remind you that if something else happens, even minor to you, I’m to be informed. Immediately.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” She huffed.

She hated being bossed. He wasn’t bossing. He was used to being in charge and people following orders. Aurora was a little alpha herself. Total type A. He’d have to work on his approach with her.

“Please,” he offered as politely as possible.

She placated him. “I will.”

Why would someone upset about the verdict yesterday dig through her dead brother’s case files? What would be the point?

“Were your filing cabinets disturbed?” Maybe someone was hunting down a file on Austin Bledsoe.

“Not that I could tell. Not like Richie’s files.”

So it was probable that the other files hadn’t been snooped through. He couldn’t connect the dots. Frustration forced him to grind his jaw and growl under his breath. “Well, you can’t stay here the rest of the night. I never liked that idea anyway. He could come back.” Whoever he was.

“It’s one a.m. I’d rather not wake up Kelly or the McKnights.” She hung her head. “I can’t believe I’m going to run scared.”

“You’re not. You’re being smart and taking precautions. How did he get in your garage? Would you have heard it being manually opened?”

“Yes.”

Beckett searched entry points while concocting a plan to protect her. At the bathroom, he stopped and pointed to the guest bathroom window. “Point of entry.” Dusty footprints lined the tub. He gnawed the inside of his cheek. “I can have the bathroom printed.”

“He wore gloves.”

“Still.” But she was right. It would probably be a dead end like she said would happen with the trace on her phone last night. Burner phone. Untraceable.

How long had this guy been inside her house, waiting until she went to sleep before creeping to the garage and tripping the breaker?

Aurora’s wide eyes and pale cheeks testified that she was thinking the same thing. “I should have checked all my locks after the threats.”

Beckett touched the windowsill. “See these slivers of wood and paint? He used something to pry it open. It was locked.”

She gawked at the chipped sill.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Not for one second.

She nodded. “What do we do about the rest of the night?”

He’d been thinking about that. “I’d stay here, but I don’t need any gossip. I’ll take you to the Magnolia Inn. Pack a bag.” He waited while she packed, then he loaded her up and drove her over to the Magnolia. Claire MacKay stood behind the desk sipping coffee.

“Hey, Sheriff. What brings you in this time of night?” She yawned and held up her cup. “I need a stronger brew.”

“I need two adjoining rooms.”

“Why?” Aurora marched up to the desk.

Beckett cut his eyes at her and she tilted her head, hesitantly resigning to the fact he was getting a room next door. Period.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“Anyone rings the desk or calls for Aurora, patch them through to my room.” Beckett was taking every precaution.

“Of course.” She handed them keys and didn’t ask questions. He liked that about her. He was glad it wasn’t her sister, Keeley, working tonight’s shift. She was an entirely different story. “Breakfast is served from six until nine.”

“You serve eggs?” he asked.

“We do.” She gave him a puzzled expression.

“We’ll be down for our courage at eight.”

A puff of air escaped Aurora’s nose and Claire stood befuddled. “Off with ya’ then. Enjoy your sleep.”

Upstairs. Safer. He led Aurora to her room and set down her bags, then unlocked the door leading to his room. “Don’t lock this.”

Her nostrils flared.

He’d ordered her again. “Please,” he added.

Aurora sat on the edge of the queen-size bed. “I won’t. Thank you, Beckett.”

For what? Showing up late? “You defended yourself. Nice work, Counselor.”

“I think you could call me Aurora. I’d be comfortable with that.” She half smiled and his chest tightened.

“Aurora,” he rasped. Felt entirely too right rolling off his tongue. “Doesn’t fit.” He tipped an invisible hat. “Night, Counselor.”

She kicked off her shoes. “Night, Sheriff.”

Beckett closed the door and laid his gun on the nightstand. What if Aurora hadn’t been the shooter but the victim? The assailant had gotten into her house. Lain in wait. God had spared her life. Too bad He hadn’t spared Meghan’s. Didn’t they all deserve to be rescued? Why did some receive help and some didn’t? He’d been struggling with that question while trying to maintain his faith and trust in God. But the more he questioned, the more he doubted.

At 7:45 a.m. he knocked on Aurora’s door. She opened it. The same dark circles drooped under her eyes as his and she was paler than usual, her hair pulled back in that tight knot on her neck. Her room held that flowery signature scent of hers. “Ready?”

“Yes. Thank you for accompanying me today. I know you have a county to take care of.” She grabbed her purse and briefcase.

“Today, I’m taking care of you. No protests.” He motioned for her to exit the room and he followed her downstairs where she ate poached eggs and he helped himself to a stack of pancakes. “We better hit the road if we want to make that ten o’clock appointment.”

“I’d like to take my car. I don’t want to make it obvious I’m investigating, and riding around in a sheriff’s vehicle does exactly that—although by now all of Richfield knows. It’s not much bigger than Hope.” Aurora pulled her scarf tight around her neck as he paid, then they walked to the Tahoe.

“You want to drive your keyed car around? I can run it by Wallace’s shop. Get it repainted. Set you up with a rental.”

“I thought about having it fixed, but then I figured someone might do something else to it and I might as well wait until the threats die down and have it repaired in one fell swoop. Besides, I need whoever did it to know it doesn’t bother me.”