Beckett
Mia and I’ve been living together for a week. I’ve been working for Ryland and Hudson’s construction company. Part of my parole is I have to retain a full-time job. While I would love to resume my nursing duties, I’m pretty sure the medical community isn’t going to hire a felon convicted of murder, so I’m grateful to be working with my brothers.
Hudson gave me an advance so I could buy groceries and didn’t have to mooch off Mia, and I worked a few extra hours a day to make up for it, so today is the first day I’m home before seven.
Ryland drops me off, and I get the mail. There’s a large envelope for Mia, but she isn’t in the house.
At first, I get panicky, but when I go out back, I see her lying on a sun chair next to the small pool. It’s a warm, clear day, and the summer humidity mixes with the ocean breeze. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore can be heard from Mia’s backyard, and you can smell the saltwater in the air. She’s listening to music with her earbuds in, and I sneak up behind her and run my hands down her arms.
She practically jumps off the chair, and her eyes fly open. Pulling her earbuds out, she throws her hand over her heart. “You scared me half to death!”
I laugh and kiss her. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“You’re home early.”
“Did I interrupt your tanning time?” I lick my lips, checking her out in her black string bikini.
She wraps her arms around me and wiggles her eyebrows. “You’ll have to check out my tan lines to tell me if I need more sun.”
I run my finger between her skin and bikini tie, and she shivers slightly. “If I weren’t so dirty, I’d assess that right now.”
She scans me. “I don’t think you look that dirty.”
“Trust me. I’m dirty.”
“I like you dirty,” Mia murmurs against my lips.
I chuckle and hand her the envelope that was in the mailbox.
“What’s this?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. It looks important though. I’m going to go shower. Should we grill out and have a pool night?”
“Sure. I took chicken out of the freezer. I’m sure it’s defrosted by now.”
I peck her on the lips. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few.”
I don’t take a long time showering. After, I throw on my swimsuit, I pick up the plate of chicken, grilling utensils, and lighter. I ignite the grill and put the chicken down. When I turn, Mia is sitting up in the lounge chair, staring at the contents of the envelope. Her face is white as a ghost’s.
“Mia, you okay?”
She slowly looks up at me, as if in shock.
I sit on the lounger next to her and put my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”
She hands me the papers, and chills consume my body.
There are a dozen eight-by-ten, black-and-white photos of Mia over the years, dressed in warm clothes, with snow around her. In some of them, she has a bookbag. In others, she’s on campus with headphones in, oblivious anyone is watching her.
A piece of paper has typed:
Mia,
You need to go back. It’s not safe for you here. Leave now.
Someone who cares
Leave now. Is that a threat?
My stomach flips. “Who knew where you were all these years?”
Her lip quivers. “My grandparents. That’s it.”
“Someone else knew you were there. How else did they get these pictures?”
“Beckett, I don’t know.”
I look closer at the envelope. The postmark says The City of Anna Maria. “Someone local sent you this. Who could it be?”
Her voice trembles, and she repeats, “I don’t know!”
I pull her tight to me. “Okay. It’s okay,” I say, but I’m trying to convince myself as much as her.
“So someone has been monitoring me all these years?”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Do your grandparents have any close friends on the island? Maybe one of them knew?”
She shrugs. “A lot of them were older. Who knows if they are still alive, and I honestly don’t remember them.”
“I wonder if my parents would know anyone they hung out with? They were close before the shooting.”
Mia jerks her head at me. “Do you think Henry is trying to scare me?”
“I don’t think it could be him. How would he have gotten these pictures?”
She tugs on the ends of her black hair. “Let’s ask your parents.”
But then they are going to ask questions.
“Wait. Let’s not ask my parents.”
She tilts her head at me. “Why not?”
“If I ask questions about your grandparents, they’re going to want to know why I’m asking. Let’s go to my house, and we can pull out their photos. See who’s in the pictures with your grandparents. My mom always had her camera out when we were little.”
“You think the person who sent this will be in your mom’s photos?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but there’s a good chance there are a ton of pictures of your grandparents and whoever they were friends with.”
“Aren’t your parents going to want to know why we are looking at photos?”
I sit back for a moment, contemplating. I quietly say to Mia, “Let’s tell them we are looking for pictures of Clay.”
Mia closes her eyes briefly. “Okay.”
“I’ll put the chicken in the fridge.”
“I’ll go change.” Mia stands up.
I embrace her once more. “We’ll figure this out.”
Her turquoise eyes fill with worry. “What if we don’t? What if this is a warning?”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay?”
She takes a deep breath. “All right.”
I turn off the grill, throw the chicken in the fridge, change out of my bathing suit and into shorts and a T-shirt. Mia throws on a sundress. We lock up the house and stroll hand in hand to my parents’ house.
When we get inside, my mom is cooking dinner. She looks at us and teases, “Did you smell the food?”
“Funny. We came to look at your old pictures.”
She tilts her head at us. “They’re still in the family room cabinet. What made you interested in that?”
Mia squeezes my hand. “I wanted to see the pictures you might have of Clay.”
My mom gives us a sympathetic smile. “Sure. Anything you want to keep, take with you.”
“Really?” Mia softly asks.
My mom’s grin widens. “Yes. They are yours.”
“Thanks, Connie.”
Mia and I leave the kitchen and quickly find the boxes tucked away in the big cabinet.
“Wow. Your mom did take a lot of pictures.”
“Yep. She annoyed my brothers, sisters, and me.”
Mia smiles, but it’s a sad one. “I wish we had more pictures. Especially of my mom, Clay, and I together.”
“Maybe we’ll find one in here.”
“That would be nice. I don’t have any. I only have a few pictures of my mom and Clay or my mom and me. I know she wasn’t around that much, but...” She looks away.
I stroke her arm. “She’s still your mom.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if it exists, my mom will have taken it,” I joke.
We start to dig through the boxes. There are thousands of pictures my mom captured over the years. So many pictures of me have Clay in them. There are also a few with Mia, Gabriella, Clay, and me.
Photos from parties over the years and even events held at their friends’ homes are plentiful as well.
About an hour in, my mom comes into the room and sets down a TV tray with two plates of lasagna and garlic bread along with two glasses of water. “Finding anything interesting?”
Mia has a stack of pictures with Clay in them, and one of Mia and me wearing pajamas is on the top. Mia and I look like we are sleeping. Her head is on my lap, and I’m lying on the pillow against the armrest.
My mom holds the picture and starts to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“This was on your grandma’s birthday. She got a little tipsy, and we said we would watch you and Clay. It was the middle of the night, and Gabriella and Clay were both asleep, and you two wouldn’t go to bed. I figured you had way too much sugar. You had been playing video games and fell asleep. When I found you two, I took this picture before I woke you up and told you to get back in bed.”
I snap my fingers. “I remember that! You got mad and told me that I was ten and shouldn’t be keeping a six-year-old up all night.”
“I remember! Beckett snuck chocolate cake out of the kitchen, too.”
“He sure did. There was chocolate everywhere.” My mom picks up a pile out of the box. She sorts through a few then hands them to Mia. “These are all of your mother. You look just like her.”
Mia’s eyes light up as she looks at the pictures. “She looks so happy in these.”
“Take those if you want.”
She looks at my mom and smiles. “Thanks.”
“Sure, sweetie.” She pats Mia’s hand and stands up. “I’ll leave you both to it. There’s more food in the kitchen if you want seconds.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I scoot closer to Mia, and we look at the pictures from the box my mom gave us. Her mother is in many of them.
Who is that with her mother? He looks familiar.
“Can I see those for a minute?”
“Sure.” She hands me the pictures.
Is that...no, it can’t be. But it is. It’s him.
He’s younger, and I haven’t seen him in over ten years, but sure enough, it’s him. Picture after picture of Mia’s mom also has Casey Cline. Her mom looks almost identical to how Mia looks now but slightly younger. I’m guessing she isn’t even in her twenties. Casey, with his salt-and-pepper hair, seems to be nearing fifty.
Why do they look so cozy?
“What are you looking at, Beckett?”
I scan Mia’s eyes. “Is it just me, or do your mom and Casey Cline seem kind of cozy?”
“That’s Casey Cline? As in Skates’ dad?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
Mia sifts through the pictures and angrily says, “Why is he in all these pictures with my mom?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence fills the room. She finally says, “My mom died from a heroin overdose. Casey Cline is a heroin dealer. Do you think he was her dealer?”
“There’s a good possibility.”
She blinks tears. “So Casey Cline not only murdered my brother, but he also killed my mother?”
“I don’t know, but it’s possible. But, Mia, don’t you think we should ask my mom about their relationship? See how your mom is focused on him in this picture. And he seeems like he’s flirting with her in this one.”
“Okay, that’s gross. He has to be double my mom’s age.”
“Let’s go talk to my mom.” I stand up, take her hands, and tug her up off the ground.
Mom and Dad are finishing up dinner when we get into the kitchen.
“Mom, what can you tell us about Mia’s mom and Casey Cline?”
My mother chokes on her food. After coughing like a maniac, she takes a big sip of water.
“Why are you asking this?”
“All these pictures of Mia’s mom have Casey in them, and they look pretty cozy.” I lay the pictures out on the table.
My parents exchange a glance. I’ve seen it before. It’s the oh crap, the kids know something we don’t want them to know glance.
Do my parents know Casey is involved with heroin? It’s common knowledge Mia’s mom died of an overdose, but no one I’m aware of knows about Casey’s drug business.
“Please tell me whatever you know,” Mia quietly asks.
My parents look at each other again.
“Mom!”
She jerks her head at me. “What?”
“Tell us what you know.”
She sighs and drags the chair next to her away from the table. “Sit down, Mia.”
Mia looks at me, almost scared, but sits. I take the seat next to her and put my arm around her. She leans back against my chest. We wait for my Mom to talk.
She fidgets with her hands, which is what she does when she’s nervous. My dad’s leg is bouncing under the table, which is what he does when he’s anxious.
What do they know about their relationship?
“Mia, your mom and Casey...well...” She blows out a big breath. “They had a secret affair.”
“Secret affair?” Mia mutters.
My mom nervously glances at my father again. “Your mom was only in high school and got pregnant. She wouldn’t tell anyone who the father was, and between Clay’s birth and yours is when those pictures were taken. I think your mom might have been eighteen or so...”
Mia looks at me with the color draining from her face.
“Your grandmother figured it out from these same photos and confronted your mom and Casey. They denied the affair, but then your mom got pregnant again about a year later with you.”
“Wait. Are you saying that Casey is Mia and Clay’s father?”
My mom only stares at us. My dad’s leg bounces faster.
“No,” Mia whispers.
My mom holds her hand, and I tighten my arm around Mia.
“Your mother never confirmed it. There is no evidence to prove that, and Casey has always denied the affair,” my dad tells us.
“But you don’t believe that? You think they had an affair?” I ask.
My mom takes a deep breath. “I think the chances are high.”
“You think he’s my father?” Mia asks.
My parents look at each other, and my mom quietly says, “I think it’s very possible.”
Mia turns slightly green and suddenly jumps up and runs to the bathroom. I run after her and hold her hair back as she throws up in the toilet.
When she’s done, she washes her hands and rinses her mouth out and spins. Her eyes are bloodshot from being sick, and a few tears fall down her face.
I hold her in my arms.
“Do you know what this means if he’s my father?” she cries.
“Yes.”
I don’t need to say anything more. Casey Cline played a role in the murder of his own son.
“Skates is my half-brother,” Mia whispers then turns and starts throwing up again.