Chapter 15

Never in her life had Beckett imagined that handing over drugs to the police could be such a polite, no-fuss affair. A desperate call to Bar Harbor’s sheriff had led to a meeting with two polite FBI agents who had relieved Beckett and Murphy of what they’d found in the three safety deposit boxes and the keys. They had taken their statement about everything else they knew. Promising to update them if anything came of the information, Beckett and Murphy were escorted out of the office the agents were using in the Atlanta Police Department and sent on their way.

Beckett soon discovered that trying to maintain some sense of normalcy was next to impossible with a police investigation, potential cartel connections, and the possibility her husband wasn’t dead after all hanging over her head. By the time Thanksgiving dawned with crisp weather and a hard frost on the grass, she was ready to forget the holidays even existed. Amidst excited cries from her children that they would be late for dinner at Savi’s, Beckett forced herself to dress for the occasion, allowed Murphy to hustle them all into the car, and put on a smile as she walked in the door with a pie in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

Savi embraced Beckett as she came through the door, grinning when Harlow and Rhys took off after Lyla, the three kids tromping up the stairs on their way to Lyla’s bedroom. Taking the pie from Beckett, she looked at her friend with a critical eye.

“You look tired.”

“Just stressed. We still don’t have the DNA back. I just want to know.” Sighing, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it next to the door. “Are Cassie and Alan here yet?”

“Not yet. Jax and Caleb are in the kitchen scarfing down the appetizers I made, so if lobster stuffed mushrooms are your thing, I’d move fast. There’s more than an hour yet on the turkey.” Savi grinned when Murphy bent to hug her. “There’s my favorite brother.”

“You just say that because I fixed your sink last week.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and made a beeline for the kitchen, his brothers, and the dwindling tray of mushrooms.

Beckett rolled her eyes and held up the bottle of wine. “Want to taste with me?”

“When have you ever known me to turn down wine?”

Despite herself, Beckett was having a good time surrounded by her family for the holiday. The boys ate too much and yelled about football with Alan riding herd to make sure the good-natured arguments didn’t turn into physical altercations. Cassie had settled herself into one of the chairs in the kitchen and sipped wine with Savi and Beckett, the three of them chatting about the opening of the Vive Café the following week.

Laughing over the retelling of a debacle with her liquor license, Beckett paid no attention when her phone rang. Fishing it from her pocket, she swiped to answer without looking at the number, pressing it to her ear with a grin on her face.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. McKenzie? This is Sheriff Rogers. I’m sorry to bother you on Thanksgiving, but I had to come in to process the Devlin boy for a DUI and had a fax in the machine. It came through late last night after I’d already left. It’s the DNA results from Ryan’s exhumation. Do you want to come down and look at them, or would you like me to just tell you?”

Beckett’s smile faded and she gripped the counter with her free hand. “Just tell me, Sheriff, please.”

The din in the room died down to absolute quiet. Sheriff Rogers took a deep breath before speaking.

“The DNA provided to the lab from the remains of Ryan McKenzie was not consistent as being a full-sibling with the comparison DNA provided by Murphy. It was also not consistent with being a half-sibling, or any other type of relative. Says here there are no more markers in common than they’d expect in any two random samples.”

Her voice a squeak, Beckett forced herself to talk. “What do we do now?”

“Well, I’ll notify the Army and the FBI we got the results, and I’ll open up an official investigation into this Robbins kid who’s been hanging around. Seems to me I ought to put out an APB on your husband since he’s got a lot of explaining to do. As for the remains, we can have them reburied or cremated if they can’t be identified. We’re working on it now, but given that this happened in Colombia, I wouldn’t hold out much hope we get an identification. Their record-keeping isn’t good under the best of circumstances, and my gut tells me Ryan didn’t pick someone who would be missed to replace him in that casket.” Rogers took another breath and sighed deeply. “If you know now what you want to do with the body I can make the arrangements.”

“The second one.” Beckett’s voice wavered and cracked. “Just burn him. I don’t want to deal with it.”

“I’ll make the arrangements. I figure you need to come in tomorrow and give me the keys to your storage unit. We’re going to have to go through everything. Pack up all his stuff you have at the house, have the boys and Cassie and Alan do the same. Murph still spending most nights at your place?”

Embarrassment warring with the shock, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’d see he keeps doing that. Do you have a gun, Beckett?”

“No, sir.”

“Might suggest you get one. I’ve got some literature I can give you on a concealed carry class. If you go take it, I’ll speed through a permit for you. Until then, I’ll tell my boys to look the other way on you carrying yourself a pistol. Get something you can handle but that carries a punch. .38 or a nine millimeter. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow with the stuff. Should I call the others, or do you want to tell them?”

“I’ll handle it. We’re all at Savi’s for dinner anyway.”

“Good. Tell Savi the same on the gun. I know she registered one through here when she moved up, but tell her it does her no good if she doesn’t have it with her. I’ll tell the boys to do a few extra sweeps of the houses during the night, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be down tomorrow.”

“Good girl. Enjoy the rest of the holiday if you can.”

“You, too. Thanks again.” Pressing the button to end the call, she looked up to find six pairs of eyes on her. Her voice still trembling, she managed to tell it. “The DNA is in. It doesn’t match. It’s not Ryan we buried. He’s still alive.”

Cassie reached over the island and gripped Beckett’s hand in her own. Tears shining in her eyes, she blinked them back and spoke, her voice strained with effort from not crying. “Okay. Now we know. Nothing’s changed.”

Jax stood and walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his mother. Cassie held strong for several moments then dissolved into sobs, her hands gripping her son’s shirt tightly and her face pressed into his chest.

Beckett swiveled and met Murphy’s gaze, his hot with anger and hers filled with sadness. Standing, he reached out, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head beneath his.

“I’m not a widow.” She glanced up at him. “I’m still married. I have to get a divorce. I don’t want the kids to know I cheated on their father.”

Savi’s head snapped up, fire flashing in her eyes. “You’re doing no such thing! We are talking about a man who abandoned his children, faked his own death, and left you, his second wife, at the same time, might I add, to clean up the mess he made. You can’t get a divorce if you were never married, and you can’t cheat on a man you were never really with. Cassie, Alan, I’m sorry for all you’re going through, but your son deserves to rot in a cage for everything he’s done.”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Let’s table this for when little ears aren’t right upstairs. Rhys knows too much as it is, and the girls aren’t old enough to understand any of this at all.” He gripped Beckett’s shoulders and pulled her from his brother, staring down at her. “I will say one thing to you, though. No one here begrudges you one moment of happiness. No one here doubts you loved Ryan.”

He rubbed her shoulders gently, continuing to stare down at her. When tears spilled from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks, he gently wiped them from her face. Reaching down, he took both her hands in his and held them securely.

“I saw you at his funeral; I saw the way you crumbled when they brought his coffin covered in a flag off the plane. We all watched you raise Rhys on your own, then Harlow, too. I’d have never thought it was Murphy who would make you happy, but even with all this going on, I like seeing you smile. No one here is going to think any less of you for anything that’s happened. We love you. You’re more our family than he ever was.”

With a glance around the room at the faces she loved so much, Beckett wrapped her arms around Caleb and laid her head on his chest.

“How do we find the son of a bitch?”

****

Murphy woke in the middle of the night with Beckett wrapped in his arms, her head crammed onto his pillow with his own. Smiling at the feel of her sleepily pressed against him, he blinked to clear his eyes and squinted at the clock. Scowling at the numbers, he shifted to get more pillow real estate and closed his eyes to go back to sleep. An entire day dedicated to providing the sheriff with all the information they possessed had exhausted them both and four forty-three a.m. was entirely too early to be awake.

A noise downstairs ended any aspirations of additional sleep.

Bolting upright, he threw back the covers and went to the window, moving the curtains and looking down. Seeing no cars on the street, he went to the lockbox in the nightstand drawer and keyed it open to remove the pistol inside. Holding it in one hand, he slowly crept into the hallway and peeked in on first Rhys, then Harlow, making sure both were asleep in their beds.

Descending the steps, he turned left to check the kitchen and dining room, his eyes well-adjusted to the dim light. Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he pivoted, lifting the gun. Something heavy slammed into his head and Murphy crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

****

The man looked up the stairs when Murphy hit the floor, listening hard for sounds indicating anyone else was awake. Sensing nothing, he stepped over Murphy and dropped onto the couch, continuing with his methodical search of both laptops and cell phones he’d found. Using the flash drives he’d brought in, he copied everything on the hard-drives and idly scrolled through the contacts on each phone, making note of who both Beckett and Murphy called.

“Call each other a lot, don’t you?” Mumbling under his breath, the man glanced through text messages, scowling at the exchange between the two. Grocery lists and kid pick-up schedules.

Finishing what he’d been doing, the man did a quick search of the rest of the first floor before daring to ascend the stairs and go into Beckett’s bedroom. He stood for thirty seconds watching her sleep, her red hair curling wildly on the pillows and her face smooth and youthful in sleep. She lay on her side with a pillow tucked between her knees and one arm tossed to the side, the blanket bunched around her waist, revealing a tank that had been tugged down to reveal her cleavage.

Forcing himself to continue the search, the man rifled through drawers, checked the bathroom, and poked his head in to each child’s bedroom. He stared at the young boy and girl sleeping before he slipped back down the steps and out the door, turning the key in the lock to secure it behind himself.

Humming, he pulled off his gloves, tucked his hands in his pockets, and strode down the street to the car he’d parked just out of sight. He didn’t see the curtains twitch in the house across the street, or Hattie Plunkett’s eyes widen as she watched the man disappear around the corner.