The Texas Soldier′s Son
The Texas Soldier's Son
Karen Whiddon
He never expected to live againOr have a family…Whilst Army ranger Kyle Benning was believed dead in an explosion, his widow, Nicole Shelton gave birth to his child. Now she’s a prime suspect in a murder case! Kyle battles trauma and a dangerous killer to rescue the woman he still loves…
“Jacob is your son.”
A thrilling new Top Secret Deliveries story
Army ranger Kyle Benning never expected to live again...or have a family. When he was believed dead in an explosion, Nicole Shelton gave birth to Kyle’s baby. Now she’s a widow and a prime suspect in a murder case! Everything Kyle once knew is as dangerous as a war zone, but he battles trauma and a killer to rescue the woman he still loves.
KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amid the gorgeous Catskill Mountains, then the majestic Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen now lives in north Texas, writes full-time and volunteers for a boxer dog rescue. She shares her life with her hero of a husband and four to five dogs, depending on if she is fostering. You can email Karen at kwhiddon1@aol.com. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com (http://www.karenwhiddon.com).
Also by Karen Whiddon
The CEO’s Secret BabyThe Cop’s Missing ChildThe Millionaire Cowboy’s SecretTexas Secrets, Lovers’ LiesThe Rancher’s ReturnThe Texan’s ReturnWyoming UndercoverThe Texas Soldier’s SonRunaway ColtonThe Temptation of Dr. Colton
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Texas Soldier’s Son
Karen Whiddon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07891-7
THE TEXAS SOLDIER’S SON
© 2018 Karen Whiddon
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicated to my daughter, Stephanie Waters.
One of the strongest women I know. I love you, Steph.
Contents
Cover (#u28d83b89-b78d-53df-b708-2c87469dbeef)
Back Cover Text (#ue06437a4-1c0c-5436-814b-ea1e2571383b)
About the Author (#ue1fca6d0-0e53-5443-b9de-082349c6dcf8)
Booklist (#u343534ed-989f-5b74-88a7-5b77ee7bf450)
Title Page (#uf7481a70-5403-5bbf-93af-aa93875c5878)
Copyright (#ua8df246c-ae94-5ebb-b961-6567ec3a7de5)
Dedication (#ubbfac2c1-6ef9-567a-84d3-9ad18049430f)
Chapter 1 (#u56de7933-0286-580a-881b-97bf756e2938)
Chapter 2 (#ue179a46e-607e-5005-ac72-084fb60b684f)
Chapter 3 (#uecf3b9c0-727a-53c4-8a9b-c02b1b30c0c0)
Chapter 4 (#u5ae37ea0-73df-5886-9869-c2cc71150d9a)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
“He’s dead?” Nicole Shelton-Mabry gripped the phone so hard she thought it might break. “What do you mean, he’s dead? He was fine when he left for work this morning.” If by fine, one meant hungover. Last night her husband Bill had staggered in at 3 a.m., slurring her name, already in a rage by the time she’d hurried downstairs. The black-and-blue bruise on her upper arm had been his response to her tentative hello. Luckily, once he’d vented his anger, he’d stumbled to the couch and passed out before he could hit her again.
The pain had blossomed like an explosion. Since she had experience covering bruises, and luckily this time he hadn’t got her face, she knew she needed to put ice on it. Wincing as she explored her arm and shoulder with tentative fingers, she supposed she ought to be glad he hadn’t broken anything this time.
Prone on the couch, he’d let out a snore. She’d stood staring at him for a moment, hatred mingling with her pain, and wished she’d had enough guts to grab her cast-iron skillet and slam it into his skull until he’d never be able to hurt her again. Instead, she’d gone to the freezer and wrapped ice in a dishtowel, glad baby Jacob still slept in his crib upstairs.
She’d taken a deep breath, crossed the room and carefully removed Bill’s wallet from his back pocket. He loved to carry wads of cash and his drinking made him careless with his money, so she’d been removing as much as she safely could each time he passed out.
This time she took an extra twenty in addition to the hundred and five. He’d never asked her about his money and she figured he probably thought he’d spent it at whatever hellhole he frequented the next town over. Topless bars were his favorite and he didn’t dare go anywhere around here where someone he knew might see him. After all, he had his position as church deacon to consider.
Replacing his wallet, she’d hurried to the laundry room and shoved the bills in her hiding place, a brown envelope tucked in the pocket on the back of the washer behind the laundry detergent, fabric softener and dryer sheets. The one place Bill never went was the laundry room. Instead, he’d shove his smoke-scented, bourbon-stained clothes at her with an order to get them clean.
She’d been taking money from him for several months. Soon, she hoped to have enough to get her and Jacob on a bus that would carry them to a new life somewhere far, far away.
“Nicole? Are you there?” Yates, an older man who worked for Bill, sounded tired. “I know this is a shock, but Dan and Theresa are too upset and I figured someone needed to let you know.”
Dan and Theresa were Bill’s parents. They all worked together at the trucking company Dan had started years ago.
Mabry Trucking. If they knew what kind of man their son had become, they never let on to Nicole.
“I’m here,” Nicole replied, her voice shaky and her mouth dry. She knew she needed to pretend the same way she pretended in church that she, Bill and Jacob were one big, happy family, but she couldn’t. Not yet, not now, with a bruise the size of a robin’s egg on her cheekbone underneath her swollen black eye. “What happened, Yates? Was he in an accident?”
“Nope.” Despite the somber tone, Yates didn’t sound like he was grieving too much either. She imagined Bill had made his life hell as well.
“He just keeled over at his desk,” Yate continued. “Cup of coffee in his hand. I called 911 and they tried to revive him, but he was already gone. I think maybe he had a massive heart attack.”
After thanking him for calling, Nicole hung up. She knew she should have felt something, anything instead of this awful numbness, but digging deep, the only emotion she felt was relief.
The next several hours passed in a blur. Nicole stuck to her house as much as possible, answering the phone and trying to regain her composure. She’d thought she’d have decisions to make over her husband’s funeral, but his mother had taken over all that, promising only to make sure Nicole got the details, along with the bill.
That afternoon, she’d had a few visitors, mainly from Bill’s church, where she assumed none of them had truly known her husband.
Her own parents even made a token appearance to express their condolences. Her mother had brought Nicole a chicken casserole, offered a mechanical hug and didn’t even ask to see the baby. Nicole went and got Jacob after his nap and brought him out, which immediately made her parents decide to leave.
Luckily, at three months old, Jacob was too young to be hurt. Nicole knew she wanted to make sure he never was. Her parents bore no love for her son. They, along with Bill himself, were the only ones who knew Bill wasn’t actually Jacob’s father. They’d all made sure not one word leaked about Jacob’s parentage. None of them wanted to deal with the shame. As for Nicole, if she could have, she’d have shouted the truth from the rooftops.
The phone rang, Nicole answered. Bill’s mother called several times and wept, sounding as if she was nearly prostrate from grief. Bill’s father, a man Nicole suspected was much like Bill himself, remained stoic, saying only that he’d be supporting his wife through it all. They’d begrudgingly allowed Nicole to make a few choices as to the final arrangements. She was their son’s wife after all, whether they liked her or not. She’d had Jacob after all, which helped her status in their eyes. The Mabrys doted on the infant, whom they believed to be the next Mabry heir.
Now alone in the big house, Nicole figured she’d eventually tell them the truth. She’d actually be glad to, because she’d grown weary of living such a bold-faced lie. Once, it had been a necessity. Now, as a new widow, she figured she’d be able to sell the house and combine that money with whatever was in the bank account and move far, far away from this place.
She went to bed early, slept deeply, and rose shortly after seven, when Jacob wanted his feeding.
After coffee and a shower, she debated simply unplugging the land line. But before she could, the phone rang, the shrill sound making her jump. Yesterday, she’d found the steady barrage of calls overwhelming. She’d actually stopped answering for a few hours and let the machine take care of it instead. After the sun set, the calls had died down to a trickle and then ceased altogether, giving her a quiet night.
Now with the morning, clearly they were starting up again.
Caller ID showed the Anniversary sheriff’s department, so she answered. “Missus Mabry, this is Sheriff Cantrell. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Your husband’s parents insisted on an autopsy, so we rushed one through. The Medical Examiner put Bill ahead of everything else, considering all the Mabrys have done for this community.” He took a deep breath. “Are you sitting down, ma’am?”
When she allowed that she wasn’t, he gently asked her to please do so. Her stomach churned, but she did as he asked and told him she’d done so.
“Good, good.” Now he cleared his throat. “The coroner’s report came back and Bill didn’t die of heart disease as originally believed.” He paused, probably for dramatic effect. “He was poisoned. We found high concentrations of arsenic in his coffee.”
“Poisoned?” Blinking, she struggled to process his words. “You’re saying someone at the office poisoned him?”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “However, several of his employees claim he brought the coffee with him. I don’t know if it came from home or if he stopped and bought some and poured it into his own cup. Do you have any idea?”
She shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t. He usually doesn’t have time to make coffee here, but I don’t know where he’d stop to buy it.”
“Gas station, maybe. Or fast food place.” Another dramatic pause. “Listen, Nicole. Do you know if Bill had any enemies? Anyone who might want to harm him?”
He meant murder him, she thought. With Bill’s abrasive, confrontational personality and his entitled, the-world-owes-me belief, she couldn’t imagine many people liked him. But she truly didn’t know. Bill kept her separated from his work life. Heck, Bill had kept her separated from everything and everyone, with the exception of the church his uncle had founded. And even there, he never allowed her to be alone with anyone. She guessed he was too worried she’d tell the truth about him.
“I’m sorry,” she finally admitted. “I have no idea.”
“I see.” The sheriff’s sigh told her he’d hoped for more. “You might want to go see your mother-in-law. She’s taking her son’s death pretty hard.”
“I imagine,” Nicole murmured. Bill had been Theresa Mabry’s entire world. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a car. I have no way to get over there.” Bill hadn’t liked her to have the freedom of her own vehicle, so they’d only owned one, which he took to work every day.
“Oh.” Apparently nonplussed, Sheriff Cantrell went silent for a few seconds. “I’ll have one of my guys bring your car back to you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, relieved when he ended the call.
Bill was dead. The words echoed over and over inside her head. Bill. Was. Dead. Never to hit her again. Never to scream invectives at her, never to force her to have sex whenever and wherever he felt like it. Gone.
She couldn’t bring herself to mourn the monster Bill had been, though she empathized with the pain his parents must feel. She imagined they’d search long and hard for whoever had done this to their beloved son. Once the perpetrator had been found, the Mabrys would enact a swift and merciless vengeance.
Not sure what else to do, Nicole stuck to her usual routine, taking care of Jacob and housecleaning while he slept. She did two loads of laundry and almost caught herself ironing Bill’s work shirts—he liked them well starched. She remembered in time and simply hung them up in his closet without pressing them.
One of the sheriff’s deputies delivered Bill’s car and keys around three. Another officer followed in a marked patrol car. Both of them expressed sympathy at her loss as they handed over the keys. Dry-eyed, she thanked them, staring at the BMW and hoping she remembered how to drive.
Once they were gone, she went back inside. Jacob’s car seat was still tucked in the closet under the stairs, since Bill refused to drive around with a car seat in his car. She carried it outside, glad Jacob was napping, and placed it in the backseat the way she always did before church. Once she had it properly attached, she stood back with some satisfaction and surveyed her handiwork. This time, she wouldn’t be pulling the car seat out.
After locking the car, she returned to her home and checked both her cell and the landline. No missed calls. Which meant neither of Bill’s parents had felt the need to call his wife to commiserate about his death.
Which meant that she should call them. While she wasn’t really close to either of Bill’s parents, she’d guessed they had no idea how their son treated her or what kind of activities he enjoyed in his spare time. She wouldn’t take that away from them, not in a million years.
So she took a deep breath and dialed Theresa’s cell phone. Theresa picked up on the third ring.
“Nicole,” she said, her voice husky from crying. “I assume you’ve heard. I can’t believe my Billy boy is gone.”
“I’m still trying to process the news,” Nicole admitted. “The Sheriff said they thought someone might have poisoned him?”
Theresa sniffled. “Yes. They’ve asked us to make a list of possible enemies who could be potential suspects.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Is it?” Theresa’s voice hardened. “I’m going to do you a favor and give you advance notice,” she continued. “Your name will be on that list.”
“What?” Nicole’s heart caught in her throat. Shocked, she struggled to find a response. Any response. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because my son told us about you. He said you’re a money-grubber, never satisfied with anything he gave you.” Vicious anger warred with grief in the older woman’s voice. “Now you have the house and the car and his bank account. But so help me, if we find one shred of evidence to indicate it was you, we will come after you. If you did anything to harm Bill, you will never be allowed to raise our grandson. Do you understand?”
* * *
Kyle Benning dragged his hand over his freshly-cut hair and struggled to relax the tension in his shoulders. Despite his honorable discharge from the army, he continued to wear his hair military-style. He felt more comfortable that way. Once an army ranger, always an army ranger.
That said, he couldn’t wait to get home. He had no choice but to surprise Nicole and show up without a phone call, since her number had changed. Worst of all, he hadn’t even had a cell phone until after he’d been discharged from the hospital. They’d flown him Afghanistan to Ramstein in Germany, where he’d remained until his condition was no longer considered critical. Months later, conscious and able to finally sit up and take solid foods, they’d deemed him on the road to recovery. Finally.
Then, they’d put him aboard another transport plane and he’d traveled from Ramstein to Walter Reed hospital in Bethesda, Maryland to continue his convalescence. Since he’d been in a medically induced coma for several months, he hadn’t been aware of any of this. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to him, but at least he knew who he was.
And who he wasn’t. The name tags around his neck weren’t his. After the enemy had taken most of the soldier’s dog tags, Hank Smith had managed to hang onto one of his and had pressed it into Kyle’s hand before dying.
No one would believe him at first. Then the IED had ripped their world apart in a single blaze of light. He’d learned Hank had been killed, torn apart by the blast, still wearing Kyle’s dog tags. Kyle had been believed dead.
The only family of his that they could locate, the foster family back in Anniversary, Texas, who had raised him, had already been notified of his passing. Kyle doubted they’d even cared, but he’d worried himself sick about Nicole, the love of his life and the woman he’d planned to marry someday.
He tried to call her, only to learn her cell phone had been disconnected. Her parents number had also been changed and apparently was unlisted,
Briefly, he wondered if she was safe. It had been an entire year since he’d held her in his arms. Through all his seemingly endless deployment, her picture and thoughts of her love had kept him sane. Despite losing the photograph in the explosion, she’d never left his heart or his memory.
These days, he might be all messed up, but he knew she would be able to help him get through this. PTSD, they’d told him, as if that acronym could cover his nightmares and jumpiness, the irritability and constant, pressing fear. Even here, away from the constant sound of gunfire and explosions, any innocent loud sound could have him instantly on alert.
Nicole, Nicole, Nicole. He chanted her name in the middle of night sweats, the double syllables becoming his mantra, the single thing he clung to in order to keep from falling over the edge.
She was his rock.
He hated the fact that she’d been told he was dead. And that he hadn’t been able to reach out to her for so long. He took comfort in the knowledge that her parents would have at least let her know he still lived, even if he was only half the man he’d once been. At least he hoped they’d told her. Since she’d never taken the time to call him, he kind of doubted that they had.
No matter. He’d be setting things straight soon.
The 2013 Chevy Silverado he drove had been one of his lone expenditures. He’d paid cash for the used pickup, knowing he’d need something reliable for the drive west to Anniversary. Excitement jumped inside him, drowning out some of the ever-present anxiety. Excitement and, dare he say, joy. Because soon, he’d be with Nicole. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he knocked on her door, to pull her into his arms and breathe the fresh strawberry scent of her shampoo, to kiss her lips until they both felt as if they were drowning.
In his pocket, he had the only other thing he’d spent part of his savings on. An engagement ring. As soon as he and Nicole got caught up, he planned to get down on bended knee and ask her formally to be his wife.
They’d talked about marrying before he’d signed up for the army. He’d even given her his high school class ring as a token, proof that he was hers and vice versa. She’d taken to wearing it with a long chain around her neck, safely tucked under her shirt so her strict parents wouldn’t see.
God, he loved her. As his truck ate up the miles, he amused himself with imagining several different scenarios when they saw each other for the first time in over a year. His favorite was the one where she hopped into his truck, they drove out to the lake and made love right there in the cab.
Finally, he crossed from Louisiana into Texas. Not too much farther now. The hum of his tires on the asphalt soothed him and he felt more relaxed than he had since the explosion.
When the Anniversary city limits sign came into view, dusk had settled over the sky. The sunset colored the sky pink and orange, promising another hot East Texas day tomorrow. He remembered how everyone liked to complain about the summer heat. It would be a cakewalk compared to the temperatures in Kabul.
Instead of heading toward the small frame home he’d rented via the internet for the next six months, he drove directly to Nicole’s parents’ house, praying she’d be home. Parking out front, he jogged up the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his chest, and rang the bell.
A moment later, the door opened. Nicole’s mother stared at him, frowning. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the rancor in her voice startling.
“I’ve been discharged from the hospital, ma’am,” he said, figuring he’d kill her with kindness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see Nicole.”
“Nicole?” She recoiled as violently as if he’d struck her. “Nicole doesn’t live here. She’s over on Broad Street in the house she shared with her husband and son.” A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. “Bill Mabry? I’m thinking you might remember him?”
He hadn’t gotten much past the words husband and son. When he finally caught up, the name Bill Mabry made his stomach churn. That had been the same guy her parents had tried to force her to marry when he and Nicole had been together.
“Well?” The older woman stared, her gaze hard. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words out past the huge lump in his throat. Only when she’d started to close the huge oak door in his face did he think of the one other thing he needed to know. “Did Nicole even mourn me at all?”
“Of course not,” she said smoothly, without missing a beat. “Once the army notified your foster family of your death, she’d moved on. She was already married with a newborn by then. I didn’t want to disrupt her life.”
And then she waited, eying him with a certain mocking relish, waiting for him to reveal how devastating he found her answer. He refused to give her the pleasure.
Though his head spun, he turned on his heel, the military precision of the movement kicking in by instinctive habit. Somehow, he made it to his truck, unlocked the doors and slid inside. Turning the key, he started the engine, put the shifter into Drive and pulled away.
He started to head to the park by the lake, the same secluded place he’d intended to take Nicole, but instead he found himself heading toward Broad Street. He still couldn’t believe her mother’s words, couldn’t accept that she hadn’t waited barely any time at all before getting married and pregnant. For her to have a newborn, that meant she’d jumped into bed with this Bill Mabry guy right after getting the erroneous news of Kyle’s demise.
Had he truly meant that little to her?
Anguish turned to anger as he made the turn onto North Broad. Since he had no idea which house she lived in, he drove slowly up the street, feeling more and more like a stalker.
All his hopes, all his dreams, his entire freaking future, he’d pinned on her. On them. Now, she’d left him with nothing.
When he reached the intersection that separated North Broad from South, he made a decision. Why torture himself further with a confrontation? Signaling a right turn, he drove instead to his rental, the place where he’d be living for the next six months.
On the way there, he stopped at the downtown liquor mart and purchased a bottle of tequila, a twelve pack of beer and some moonshine. Thus fortified, he pulled up to his empty house, parked and took a deep breath before carrying his bags inside.
Apparently one part of his life was over. He’d need to come to terms with that before he could figure out where to go from here. Right now, he couldn’t even summon up the energy to care.
* * *
Despite everything her parents had put her through, after speaking with the Bill’s mom, Nicole had the overwhelming urge to call her own mother. She wasn’t sure why; the older woman had never been the slightest bit supportive or even caring. But Nicole had no one else to talk to and despite their differences, she had to believe blood would win out over water and her mother would be on her side.
Or would she? Fran Shelton had always adored and fawned over Bill, even before she’d finally gotten her way and forced her own daughter to marry him. Nicole had lost count over how many times she’d gushed about how lucky she was that he’d married her daughter. The implication being that Nicole should be grateful too.
At first, she had been. She’d been single and pregnant with parents who demanded she either marry their choice or be thrown out onto the streets. They hadn’t cared whether Nicole—or her baby—lived or died. And Nicole knew the only thing that kept them from demanding she get an abortion was their religion and the fact that she was a legal adult. For that at least, she was thankful. Bill had felt like her only choice to give her baby a safe start in life. Turned out she’d been wrong about that too.
In the end, Nicole decided against calling her mother. The last thing she needed right now was to hear the woman who’d given birth to her accuse her of murdering Bill.
The sniffles and soft cries coming from the baby monitor revealed baby Jacob was awake from his nap. Glad of a distraction, she hurried upstairs to get him before he started crying in earnest. He chortled when he saw her, filling her heart with so much love she thought she might burst.
For the first time, the enormity of the recent events hit her full force. She and Jacob were safe. No more beatings, her standing between him and the baby’s room just in case he decided to take his drunken rage out on her son. Despite his over the top infatuation with Nicole, Bill barely tolerated the infant, well aware he wasn’t the father, and had taken to referring to Jacob as that little bastard. And not in an affectionate way. He regarded Nicole as his possession and Jacob as an unfortunate addition he’d had to put up with in order to own her.
She’d dreaded the first time Bill tried to hurt her child, knowing she’d kill him if need be. Now, she no longer had to worry about that. While she knew it was morally wrong to be glad someone had been murdered, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.
She hadn’t had to run away to be free.
Picking up Jacob, she held him close, breathing in the baby powder scent of him, and allowed herself a smidgen of happiness. This house belonged to her now—not that she particularly liked it or wanted it—Bill had chosen it after all. But she had a roof over her head as long as she could pay the mortgage. And since Bill had loved to boast about their huge savings account, she figured she’d be okay. At least for a while. Long enough for Jacob to grow a bit. She didn’t want to get a job and put him in daycare until he was a little older.
Her doorbell chimed, again and again, startling her. Still holding Jacob, she hurried downstairs and looked out the peephole to see who’d come to call. Spotting the uniformed sheriff, her stomach twisted. Now what? Had Theresa Mabry called him with her unfounded accusations?
Nicole took a deep breath and opened the door. Sheriff Cantrell was new to the job, having only replaced Bleaker a few months ago. Prior to that, he’d been a deputy for years.
“Mrs. Mabry?” The formality in his normally friendly voice was her first warning. “I’d like to talk to you about the murder of your husband, Bill. Theresa Mabry has given us reason to believe you’re a potential person of interest.”
Chapter 2 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
That night, even tequila couldn’t dull Kyle’s night terrors. Though he’d never been a fan of alcohol, after the explosion he’d learned that self-medicating helped. The news about Nicole had been another kind of explosion, blowing up everything he’d had left to live for. Though for Nicole, an entire year had passed and she’d gone on with her life, for him it felt like barely a few months had passed. Being in a coma for a long time had that effect on a person.
He’d never seen this betrayal coming. Not in a million years. In a shaky world full of snipers and IEDs, Nicole’s love had been the one constant, the one certainty he’d believed he could count on. Clearly, their relationship had been nothing but a lie to her.
He drank enough to pass out, alternating with beer, before switching to the more potent moonshine. Once he couldn’t see straight, he staggered into the bedroom and the lumpy mattress that had come with the house and let his body fall onto the bed.
He prayed and hoped for at least a couple of hours oblivion, knowing he’d be lucky to get even that. But when he sat straight up in bed with a gasp, while thunder cracked and boomed outside, he hadn’t been surprised to find himself automatically reaching for his weapon. Thunder sounded like explosions. It took him a full twelve seconds to realize the flashes of light were actually lightning, accompanying the roar of steady rain.
A storm. East Texas thunder boomer. Like someone had sliced a hole in the clouds and let the water all dump out at once. It didn’t rain like this in Afghanistan. Proof positive that he was home, that it all hadn’t been a dream.
And then he remembered Nicole. The pain slicing through his gut had him doubling over, nausea coming in waves. Racing for the bathroom, he barely made it before retching up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.
Once he thought he was done, he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying to shut down his brain. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what a cluster his life had become.
He’d rented this house for six months, paying cash in advance including the deposit. According to the rental contract, he had to stay there the entire time or forfeit the money. He supposed he could walk away, but the truth of the matter was he had nowhere else to go. Anniversary was his hometown, where he’d grown up, gone to school and planned to settle and raise his own kids someday.
Kids. Another jolt, straight to the heart. The only woman he’d ever wanted to have children with now had one of her own, with another man.
Covering his eyes, he listened to the storm raging outside, matching the emotions inside.
Finally, he must have fallen asleep. When he next opened his eyes, sunshine streamed through the bedroom windows, relentlessly cheerful. With the morning came clarity. He knew what he had to do. Find Nicole and demand an explanation. She owed him that at least.
Since he hadn’t had time to stock the place with groceries, he decided he’d head downtown and have breakfast at the café. A couple of cups of coffee and some fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bacon would do wonders to banish the lingering nausea from the night before.
Stepping outside, the humidity and heat made him smile. Another sign he was home, because the desert heat had been brutal and dry. This was Texas, familiar and welcome.
Downtown hadn’t changed a bit. He lucked out and found a parking space right in front of the café. Inside, he saw Trudy Blevins, self-dubbed nosiest woman in Anniversary, apparently interviewing customers for either her newspaper column or her radio segment. Huge, flamboyant earrings swung from her ears and she chewed gum in between talking. Though he kept his back to her, he found the sight of her oddly reassuring. Proof that some things at least, never changed.
Taking a seat at the countertop, he grinned when the owner Jed Rodgers caught sight of him and did a double take. Jed made a beeline for him, hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand,” the older man exclaimed. When Kyle went to shake, instead Jed pulled him close for a quick guy hug. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life. Everyone thought you were dead.”
Kyle ducked his head. “Clearly, I’m not. What I am, though, is starving.”
“Tell me what you want.” Jed got out his order pad. “Whatever you get, it’s on the house.”
Touched, Kyle thanked him and placed his order. Jed carried it to the kitchen, returning with a mug and the pot of coffee. “Here you go. You still drink it black, right?”
“Yep.” The first sip tasted like it always had, strong and rich. “I don’t know what kind of coffee you brew, but it’s the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”
Jed acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. People had been after him for years to reveal his coffee’s secret. He claimed it was a secret he planned to carry to the grave.
Since the breakfast crowd had begun to thin out, the two waitresses were able to handle the rest of the customers. Jed leaned on the counter, settling in for a chat.
“Big news going on here in our small town,” Jed drawled. “The jaws are a’ waggin’, that’s for sure.”
“Because I’m back?” Kyle hoped not. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was Trudy Blevins shoving her microphone in his face and rattling off questions.
“Well, that too. But no, recently we had our first murder.”
Since Jed didn’t sound grief stricken, Kyle could only assume the deceased had been someone Jed didn’t know well.
The cook rang the little bell to signify an order was up. Jed grabbed it and slid the plate in front of Kyle. Two fried eggs, sunny-side up. Biscuits with creamy sausage gravy. Crispy bacon and a side of grits.
“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven—for real this time,” Kyle said. “We couldn’t get food like this in Afghanistan. Not in the hospital either.”
“Dig in, son.” Jed wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, before refilling Kyle’s coffee cup. “I’m going to go talk to Trudy and see if she’s heard anything new about the murder.”
Mouth full, Kyle waved him away. Gossip had always been a hot commodity in this town, though he figured most small communities were probably like that. As for him, he couldn’t have cared less. Once he’d inhaled his breakfast and sucked down some caffeine, he planned to figure out where exactly Nicole lived and pay her a visit. She at least owed him some sort of explanation.
Luckily, everyone left him alone to eat in peace. But the second he pushed his empty plate away, Trudy Blevins hustled over.
“Kyle Benning,” she trilled. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”
Taking a deep breath, Kyle turned to face her. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s great to finally be back in town.”
“I imagine it is.” She wore a cat-about-to-eat-a-canary look. “And I’m guessing you probably heard about the murder.”
He shrugged. “Jed mentioned something about a murder. I’m sorry to hear about that. Anniversary has always been such a safe place.”
“Oh, it still is, I’m thinking.” Expression turning sly, she climbed up on the stool next to him as if she meant to stay awhile. Which he supposed was fine, because he certainly did not. He signaled Jed for the check, but Jed waved him away, mouthing again that the meal was on the house.
“Word is, the killer was someone who knew the dead man all too well,” Trudy continued.
Kyle gave a polite nod, keeping his expression disinterested. He made a show out of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he began.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’d think this story would be a particular interest to you. In fact, I’d like to report on your reaction.”
“Trudy?” He stared pointedly at her hand on his forearm, making it clear her touch wasn’t exactly welcome. She finally huffed and removed it.
“Trudy,” he repeated. “Look, I just got back in town yesterday. While I’m sure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’ve got too much to do right now. I’ll catch up with everything on the local news later tonight.”
Was that a flash of disappointment in her gaze? But no, she shook her head, clearly undeterred. “Since this case involves your former girlfriend Nicole Shelton, I’d think you might find it a tiny bit interesting.”
Nicole? A shudder of foreboding ripped through him, though he worked hard to prevent that from showing. “Are you telling me Nicole was murdered?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Trudy cocked her head, sending those earrings of hers swinging. “Nicole isn’t dead, sugar. Nicole’s husband, Bill, is. And the talk around town is that she might be the one who killed him. The sheriff has already told her not to leave town. Can you imagine?”
Stunned, he could only stare, unable to think coherently enough to hide his shock. “I...”
Her malicious smile widened. She pulled out her microphone, fumbling with her recorder before looking up at him again. “On the record, would you tell the good folks of Anniversary how you feel about this news?”
How he felt? He’d been through hell and back, only to return home to find the rug had not only been ripped out from under him, but set on fire as well. He used every bit of his ranger training to mentally pull himself up by his bootstraps. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and looked Trudy right in the eyes. “I’ve been gone a year, ma’am. And I haven’t talked to Nicole at all, not in all that time. While I’m not sure why folks believe she’d be capable of murder, I can tell you this. The Nicole Shelton I know wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, the woman even carried spiders outside if they got in the house. I can’t imagine her killing another human being. Not at all.”
Undeterred, Trudy licked her bright red lips. “Well, it appears you are wrong. But time will tell. The truth will come out in the end.”
Kyle stood, inclining his head politely. “I’m sure it will, ma’am.” With a quick wave at Jed, he strode off toward the door.
Outside, he squinted in the bright sunlight. He walked to his pickup, unlocked the doors and climbed up inside. Ignition on, AC up full blast. He had no idea where to go, just that he needed to drive.
He cruised slowly down Main Street, turning at the bank, and continued on until he’d reached a residential area. The houses here were large and well maintained, several sporting the brass historical plaques that marked them as restored homes of significance. Pulling over to the curb, he parked. Using his phone, he navigated to the county tax assessor website and put in the name Bill Mabry.
Bingo. Interesting, that the house title was only in Bill’s name. Nicole wasn’t included. And the date of purchase was a little more than one year ago, which meant he’d bought the house before he and Nicole were married.
He put the address into his GPS and punched Drive. To his surprise, the house was only a couple of blocks away. Driving slow, he went past, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. At the end of the street, he made a U-turn. This time, he parked in front of the house across the street. The two-story, rock-and-wood structure looked sleek and modern, yet somehow fit in perfectly with the restored historical homes surrounding it. The perfectly manicured lawn, numerous trees and flower gardens were all well-tended, like something out of a glossy magazine. No doubt the inside of the luxurious home was filled with expensive furniture and matching colors.
He tried to picture Nicole living there, her adoring husband at her side, her baby in her arms, and realized she’d fit right in. In fact, this kind of lifestyle was exactly what he’d wanted for her, for them, even if he’d imagined it would take a while to get to that place. While he’d saved every dollar he could from his military service, he’d planned for the two of them to start out like most young couples did, with a much more modest home.
Looks like she’d managed to skip right over all that by marrying Bill Mabry, the guy her parents had been trying to set her up with all through high school. She’d claimed to find him repulsive, describing several awkward Sunday night suppers when her parents had invited him over.
Kyle guessed she’d lied. Either that, or her parents and Bill Mabry had finally worn her down, probably while she was mourning over Kyle’s supposed death. At least he hoped she’d grieved for him. He studied the house again and came to a decision. There was only one way to find out.
He hustled up the sidewalk, moving fast so he wouldn’t reconsider and change his mind. He rang the bell, listening as sonorous chimes reverberated inside the house, followed immediately by a baby’s loud wailing.
No one came to the door. Instead, he imagined Nicole went to comfort her infant. Heart still racing, he waited, telling himself he’d count to thirty before ringing the doorbell again.
At twenty-nine, the door opened, just a tiny crack. “Go away.” Nicole’s voice, making his stomach do a somersault. “I’ve already told you people I’m not talking to any reporters. My husband just died. Leave me alone.”
“Nicole.” He spoke her name, knowing she’d recognize his voice. “It’s me. Kyle.”
Silence. “Kyle’s dead. What kind of monster would play a cruel trick like this?” she cried out, before slamming the door shut in his face.
Still he waited, trying for patience. Even though she’d married another man immediately after his supposed death, he battled an overwhelming urge to kick the door in and yank her into his arms. Every fiber of his being, every fighting instinct to live, had been about her. Getting back to her. Holding her.
He blinked, hard, his eyes stinging. The one thing he’d never expected had been this betrayal.
When she didn’t come back, he knocked. Not a quiet brush of his knuckles against the polished wood. No, this determined rapping was to let her know he wasn’t going away until she faced him. She at least owed him that.
Finally, she opened the door, all the way this time. “Kyle?” she croaked. She’d gone pale as a ghost and swayed on her feet, as if on the verge of fainting. At least she wasn’t holding her baby. Even though she’d borne another man’s child, he didn’t want her to inadvertently injure an infant.
“In the flesh.” He jerked his head in a nod, emotion warring inside him. He was furious with her, as he had every right to be, but his soul rejoiced at just the sight of her. Still tiny, slender and petite, she wore her long brown hair the same way she always had. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in red, as if she’d been crying—of course she had, her husband had just died—and even now tears made the ends of her long dark lashes glisten.
Despite all this, she was still just as beautiful. This pissed him off more than it should have. Damned if he could stomach seeing her while she mourned another man. “Did you cry for me too?” he asked—no, demanded. “Tell me you did, because it didn’t appear to be all that long after my supposed death when you went and got yourself married off to him.”
“Kyle,” she repeated, her voice breaking. All at once, he realized she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. He moved to help her without conscious thought.
At the last minute, when he would have reached her and hauled her up close against him, she stepped aside, shaking her head.
“This can’t be real,” she muttered. Just then, her baby began crying again and she hurried away, into the house. Though she hadn’t invited Kyle to follow, she hadn’t told him to leave either, so he went after her.
She picked up her son and put him to her shoulder, rubbing his back in soft circles and making soothing sounds. The baby’s crying tapered off, replaced with quiet hiccupping sounds. She glanced at Kyle, her child held protectively against her, and made a strangled sound.
“You’re still here? This isn’t just some kind of dream?”
Before he could reply, she continued talking, almost as if to herself rather than him. “Kyle, I’m not sure how this is possible, but you’re dead. And now you’re not.”
“Sit down,” he told her, his tone gentler than she deserved. Once she had, he told her what had happened to him, all of it. Beginning with the IED exploding, the fact that he’d been holding his friend’s dog tag, and the months he’d spent in a coma in a hospital. Then the rehab, learning to walk again and, finally, coming home to learn the woman he’d expected to marry had become the wife of another man. He didn’t tell her the rest of it, about the PTSD he battled, because it was no longer any of her concern.
She listened quietly, tears slipping down her cheeks to be wiped away with the back of her hand. Her baby rooted around her chest, clearly seeking her breast, and finally she grabbed a baby blanket and arranged it so the infant could nurse. She looked the picture of maternal perfection, gazing lovingly at her child while her body gave sustenance.
It was almost too much for Kyle. But he’d already been to hell and clawed his way back. He’d come here for explanations and damned if he’d go without getting them.
When the baby finally finished, she rearranged her clothing and the blanket and put his tiny body against her shoulder so he could burp. Kyle continued to watch her, willing himself to feel nothing, though he failed miserably. A tempest of emotion raged inside him, ranging from a kind of joyous relief that they once again occupied the same space, to disappointment, hurt and gut-wrenching jealously. This should have been his wife, his baby. All the plans he’d made, all the hard work and sweat and tears had been supposed to culminate in this.
Instead, he’d been given the middle finger.
They both sat silently for a moment. He took a deep breath and met her gaze, steeling himself against the attraction—still—he felt when he looked at her.
“Your turn,” he said, his tone harsh. “I get that your husband was murdered, but you at least owe me that.”
She nodded once. “My turn,” she repeated, her voice soft. “And I’ll explain. But first, give me a moment to digest the fact that you’re really alive, and here.”
He’d bet it was a shock. She must have thought since he’d been killed, he’d never find out how quickly she’d managed to move on with her life. As if he—and what they’d had—had never mattered. A blip on her lifeline, here one day, gone the next. While for him, she’d been everything. His entire world.
With a nod, he gave her the time she requested. While she burped her baby, he prowled around the room, looking for some clue about what her life with her husband had been like. There were no photos of the two of them, none of the baby either. Just impersonal modern art prints of a type that a year ago he would have sworn didn’t match her personality. She’d loved bold, vibrant colors. Not this watered-down neutral decoration surrounding her now.
In fact, the entire living room had an impersonal feel. It looked like they’d hired a decorator and let her have free rein, without any personal input. The blues and beige was tasteful; the faint touch of yellow put some color in just the right places, but none of it gave him any insight into the people who lived here.
Part of him was glad. Nicole and he had spent countless nights talking about what their first house would be like. She’d been carefree when with him, and had spoken of the bright, rich colors she’d use. She wanted, she’d said, each room to be a tapestry with a story to tell.
If this room told a story, it would be as boring as hell.
Finally, he’d had enough of the silence and turned. Her baby had finished burping and she had him in her arms, moving with a rocking motion as if to put him to sleep.
“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Let me put him down,” she said. “He’ll want to sleep now that he’s been fed and changed.”
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, heading toward a small room off a hallway downstairs. When she returned a moment later without the infant, she swallowed. “I keep a bassinette in the office downstairs so I’m not having to run him up to the nursery during the day. At night, since all the bedrooms are upstairs, he sleeps in his crib. Which is okay, since I have a baby monitor and am able to keep tabs on him.”
Apparently realizing she was babbling, she ceased talking and sighed. Walking toward him, she stopped a few feet away and stared up at him, her expression full of wonder. “Do you have any idea what I would have given to have known you were alive? I grieved your loss deeply.”
Anger blossomed inside him. Despite that, he still had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “When, Nicole?” he demanded. “Before you got married? How long did you wait after getting word I’d been killed in action? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem very long at all.”
Her mouth worked. Again, tears came. This time, she covered her face with her hands and wept, her shoulders shaking. The old Kyle would have rushed to console her, but she no longer belonged to him. Instead he took a step back.
He shouldn’t have come here, he realized. Nothing would change. Hearing her mouth whatever explanation she came up with would do little to assuage the rawness of his pain, the aching sense of betrayal by the one person he’d believed would always have his back. Still, he couldn’t seem to get his feet to moving, so he stood and watched her cry.
“I’m waiting,” he finally said, the rasp in his voice in keeping with his frustration. “How long, Nicole?”
“It’s not what you think,” she began, her voice thick and trembling. “I really had no choice.”
“Bull.” He snarled the word. “Spare me the crap. I joined the army for us. So we could have a future. Every waking moment, every mission, every return to base, my first thought was of you. If the situation had been reversed, do you honestly think I’d have gotten married a month after you’d died? Do you?” He didn’t shout the words, partly because he didn’t want to disturb her baby, but also because volume wouldn’t make any difference. She had to know he was right, yet the sorrowful look in her eyes didn’t contain remorse or guilt. Just pain. Something he’d grown intimately familiar with.
“I was pregnant, Kyle,” she said, her voice shaking. “My parents were going to throw me out onto the street. I had to do something to protect my baby, so I took the coward’s way out and married Bill as they insisted.”
He hadn’t thought she could hurt him any worse, but somehow she had. “You’re telling me you slept with Bill Mabry after you learned I’d been killed in action?”
If he expected her to hang her head, he was wrong. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “No. I’m telling you I was pregnant with your child when you left me the last time. You’d gone on a mission, so I couldn’t tell you. I’d planned to, the next time you called. Instead, I received word you’d been killed by an IED. Jacob is your son.”
Chapter 3 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
Nicole waited breathlessly for his reaction. If anything, his frown deepened.
“I don’t believe you,” he snarled. “I never would have guessed you’d become such an opportunistic little—”
“Stop.” She cut him off before he could call her whatever name he’d been about to use. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from doubling over with pain. “I can’t deal with this right now. You need to go.”
“Gladly.” He strode to the front without a backward look. She braced herself for the noise when he slammed it, aware it would probably wake the baby, but he surprised her by closing the door with a quiet click.
Heaven help her, after inhaling so quickly it felt like a hiccup, she found herself at the front window, hand to her aching chest, watching until he drove away. The pain was so great it felt like her heart had truly shattered. She felt almost the same as she had the day she’d learned he’d been killed. Almost.
Once he’d gone, she sank down on the couch and allowed herself to break down. She hadn’t cried over Bill’s passing, or over the way his horrible parents treated her. But she cried over this. The man she’d always loved was still alive. Joy and relief at knowing that Kyle Benning still walked the earth warred with sorrow and regret. Clearly, she’d managed to kill whatever he’d once felt for her. And the fact that he could honestly think she’d lie to him about something as vitally important as his own child told her how low she’d sunk in his estimation.
After crying herself out, a steadfast calm came over her. Her life might have become a crapfest, but she still had Jacob. She went into the office and watched him while he slept, letting the all-encompassing love she felt for him fill her heart, rather than pain or worry or regret.
When the doorbell chimed again an hour later, her heart skipped a beat. Now that he’d had time to think about it, had Kyle returned? Baby Jacob still slept, so she hurried to the door, her heart hammering.
Instead of Kyle, two uninformed sheriff’s deputies stood on her stoop. One of them handed her a paper.
“We have a warrant to search your premises, ma’am,” he said. “Please step aside.”
Numb, she did as he asked. She’d only thought this day couldn’t get any worse. Clearly, she’d been wrong.
Though she stood protectively over her son while one of the men searched the office, Jacob woke when the deputy banged a file cabinet drawer shut. Nicole picked him up and soothed him, realizing he needed a diaper change, which she attended to while trying to ignore the sometimes alarming sounds the deputies were making.
They took Bill’s computer and her laptop, promising they’d return it soon. They also took Bill’s expensive bourbon, the used coffee pod still in the machine and several files.
With Jacob in her arms, she followed them from room to room, hating the way this search made her feel violated. They didn’t speak and she didn’t either, except for admonishing them to be careful when it seemed like they were growing careless with some of her perfume bottles.
They took Bill’s cologne and aftershave. It finally dawned on her that they were looking for whatever poison had killed him. Which meant she’d become more than a person of interest—she’d apparently moved right into the position of primary suspect.
As they prepared to leave, the taller of the two turned to face her. “We searched his office at Mabry Trucking too,” he said. Like that would make her feel better. All she could do was nod.
After they’d finally gone, she went about the business of straightening her house, finding comfort in the busywork.
Then she bathed Jacob. After drying him off and putting him in a fresh diaper and onesie, she breathed deeply, loving the clean, baby powder scent of him. Her breasts tingled, reminding her it was nearly feeding time. Jacob latched on, suckling with gusto. Filled with love and finally, a little peace, she watched him drink his fill. After burping him, she placed him in his bassinette to rest and set about making herself something for dinner.
Bill had been a meat-and-potatoes sort of guy and she’d marinated a couple of ribeye steaks. But the thought of eating that made her stomach turn, so she fixed herself a salad with tuna on top instead.
As she carried her empty bowl to the sink, the house phone rang. Caller ID showed her in-laws. After the awful conversation with Theresa before, she decided not to answer. Bill’s mother could leave a voice mail. Nicole didn’t need any more grief after this long and horrible day.
The answering machine picked up. “Nicole? It’s Theresa. We just wanted to let you know that we intend on filing for custody of our grandson.” And she ended the call.
Nicole had to remind herself to breathe. Her disbelief turned to anger. Who did these people think they were? How could they possibly believe any judge would give them custody of her son? She’d done nothing wrong. And she was a wonderful, devoted mother. On what basis did they think they could rip her baby away from her?
Then she realized the Mabrys must truly believe she’d murdered her husband. That would be the only scenario in which she could imagine a judge handing Jacob over to them. If she were convicted of murder and sent to prison, her son would need family to take care of him.
Except she hadn’t killed Bill and she wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Jacob. She’d fight to her dying breath to keep her boy by her side.
Failing that, there was one tiny fact Bill’s parents were unaware of. A simple DNA test would prove that Jacob wasn’t truly related to them. He carried none of their blood. Bill had known; it had been one of the conditions she’d insisted on when her parents got her to marry him. She wasn’t a liar and there’d been no way she’d try to pass Kyle’s child off as another man’s.
Now Bill’s parents—and the sheriff—clearly believed her capable of murder. Kyle was alive—and she’d rejoice in this knowledge once she could breathe again—and also considered her not only a cheat, but a liar. And she’d lived in Anniversary her entire life, so she knew soon the entire town would be talking and drawing up sides.
What a way to cap an already horrible day.
She truly didn’t know how much more she could take. At least the day was almost over. Soon, she could fall into her bed and escape into the land of dreams.
Right before darkness fell, she headed out front to get the mail from the mailbox. Bill’s credit card statement had arrived. He’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was never to open his mail, so she usually left these on the kitchen counter for him to open when he got home.
Now Bill was gone and she’d be cancelling all his credit cards. Until then, she’d need to pay all outstanding bills. She slit the envelope and pulled out the statement and blinked.
The total balance was quite a bit more than she’d expected. Nearly two thousand dollars. The list of charges made her stomach clench. Flowers from a florist, three times that month. A twelve-hundred-dollar charge at Guller’s Jewelry Store. Dinner at an expensive Italian restaurant, which mustn’t have been for business since he’d used his personal credit card.
And the final charge was the real kicker. Two hundred and thirty dollars in lingerie at Victoria’s Secret.
None of this had been for her. Bill hadn’t once brought her flowers or gifted her with jewelry or lingerie.
Which meant he had a mistress. Another woman. Which would explain all those nights when he hadn’t come home, claiming to have slept at the office.
A mistress. Rather than dismay or regret, all she felt was relief.
She needed to notify the sheriff. If they didn’t know about this woman, they needed to. Maybe they could get a search warrant for her home too.
* * *
All the way back to his rental house, Kyle muttered a running litany of curses. He’d been hurt and angry before. Now he was furious. How could it be possible that he’d never truly known Nicole at all?
When he passed the sign for the lake, he took a sharp left, catching the turn so fast for a moment he thought his wheels might leave the pavement. He drove to the park at the top of the bluff—once his and Nicole’s favorite spot, though he wouldn’t think of that night.
Out of the truck, he climbed down to the water’s edge, stripping off his clothes as he went. The hot Texas sun beat down on him unmercifully. Finally, clad only in his boxers, he jumped into the lake.
And swam. Clean, crisp strokes, the physical action of using his body to move helping to clear his head. Across the lake he went, all the way to the other shore, before turning around and heading back. He did this three times, until his chest and arms were screaming in protest.
When he finally climbed up on shore, his muscles quivering, he felt better. More like himself. As if he had a snowball’s chance in hell of being in control of his destiny.
Dressing, he climbed back up to his truck. He needed to get to the supermarket and stock up on provisions.
The H-E-B store looked unchanged. He parked and went inside, grabbing a cart. Though he hadn’t made a list, his little rental house was totally empty, so he’d need staples including cleaning supplies, as well as food.
As he perused the choices in paper towels, someone called his name.
He looked up, breaking into a grin. “Bret Atkinson. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
The two men shook hands. He and Bret had been buddies in high school. When Kyle went off after joining the army, Bret had stayed in town and gone to work at his father’s boot repair shop. Bret had married his high school sweetheart, Heather.
“I was pretty damn surprised yesterday when I heard you were in town,” Bret said. “Considering I went to your memorial service about a year ago.”
Once again, Kyle found himself explaining what had happened to him. He figured he might ought to consider printing up his story on paper and handing them out since his appearance clearly was a shock to everyone in town.
“Wow,” Bret marveled when he’d finished. “It’s a shame what’s happening with Nicole, isn’t it?”
“I heard about her husband getting murdered.” Kyle kept his tone noncommittal.
“Yeah, and she’s the prime suspect.”
Though Trudy had said something similar, this was his friend. Bret knew Nicole well. The two couples had spent a lot of time together.
Surely Bret didn’t truly believe Nicole could do such a thing. Kyle wasn’t sure how to react. He waited for Bret to laugh and say he’d been joking, but the expression on his old friend’s face was serious as dirt.
“Really?” Kyle finally asked. “Are you saying the guy had no other enemies?”
“That we know of. He was a deacon at his church, a well-respected community guy, and from what I hear, an easy boss to work for at the trucking company.”
Kyle nodded. “Were he and Nicole happy?” Inwardly, he winced. He hadn’t meant to ask that—the words had just slipped out.
“They appeared to be.” Bret shrugged. “But you know how that can be. Lots of folks just put on a happy face. No one really knows what goes on in private.”
Another stab straight to the gut. Yet Kyle managed an impersonal smile. “How’s Heather?”
Bret’s smile slipped a notch. “We’ve got just about one more month. She’s as big as a house, but hanging in there. She just finished decorating the nursery and says she’s ready. Heck, we both are.”
Then, apparently registering the stunned look on Kyle’s face, he shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. I forgot you didn’t know. Heather’s pregnant. It’s our first. She’s had a few issues, but nothing too serious. We’re hoping the last month will go quickly.”
“Aww, man. Congratulations!” Kyle pounded his friend on the back. “Are you having a boy or a girl?”
“Thanks.” Bret shook his head. “Neither one of us wanted to know the sex of our baby, so I have no idea. All I want is healthy and strong. Heather’s wavered a bit, especially when she started decorating, but she stuck with the plan.”
“Wow,” Kyle marveled. “This is just amazing. You and Heather will make great parents.” A shadow crossed his heart as he thought of Nicole, who’d become a single parent now.
Something must have shown on his face.
“You’ll get there too, Kyle,” Bret said. “Look at all you’ve been through. Yet here you are, back home and ready to start over.”
They talked a few minutes more, exchanged phone numbers and then Bret went on his way. While Kyle continued his shopping, he thought of his old friend’s words. Starting over. In a way, he’d come here to pick up where he and Nicole had left off, yet when he thought of the bright and shining future he’d envisioned for them, he wanted to punch something.
On the way to the checkout line, he ran into Bret again. Bret’s cart was nearly as full as his own. They shared a quick chuckle over that.
“Hey, if you get a chance, stop by for dinner sometime,” Bret invited. “Maybe we can invite Nicole too, so you two can catch up. She’s probably feeling pretty down, being a new widow and all. Though she has that baby of hers to keep her busy. I know Heather’s been dying for some baby time.”
Kyle shook his head. “I stopped by and saw her earlier today.”
“Oh, you did?” Bret eyed him. “Did you get a chance to see Jacob? At first, his eyes were hazel like Nicole’s, but the last time we saw him, they were changing to green. The exact same color as yours.” He laughed. “Heather and I always said he could have been your son.”
With a wave, Bret walked off, getting into one of the three open checkout lines.
Kyle did the same, deliberately choosing the one farthest from his friend. Nicole had said she’d gotten pregnant before he’d headed back to duty overseas. In his bitterness and hurt at her betrayal, he hadn’t believed her. A wave of shame swept through him, followed immediately by anger.
Was it possible he really did have a son? A simple DNA test would prove it.
* * *
Sheriff Cantrell took a look at the Visa bill and yawned. “How do you know these charges were for a mistress?” he asked.
Nicole stared at him in disbelief. “Um, maybe because I never saw any of the things listed.”
He looked again, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps he bought them for his mother. You know he and Theresa had a close relationship.”
“Victoria’s Secret lingerie?” She tapped the edge of his desk. “Do you really think they had that close of a relationship? That’s not only creepy, it’s sick.”
“Please, Ms. Mabry.” His tone went sharp. “This is your deceased husband we’re talking about. Please show some respect.”
She had to swallow twice to keep from telling him what she thought about his attitude. “Sheriff,” she began, keeping her voice level and reasonable. “My husband was murdered. His credit card bill indicates he bought expensive gifts for another woman. He took her to dinner. I haven’t checked his other months’ bills, but I have a feeling there will be more of the same. My husband had a mistress. There was another woman involved in his life. Since you’re investigating his murder, I’d think you’d want to check this out.”
Glumly, he once again considered the bill. “This opens up a whole can of worms.”
Oh for the love of... Deep breaths. “Do you or do you not want to find out who killed my husband?” she asked, refusing this time to curb her impatience.
“Of course I do,” he answered. “That’s my job. But I can’t help but feel you’re instigating this in order to deflect attention from you. Especially since you’re a person of interest.”
Shaking her head, she stood. “Sheriff, you’ve known me your entire life, not just since you were a deputy patrolman. I understand the pressure you’re under from the Mabrys wanting a quick resolution to this investigation. But you’re also our sheriff. You took an oath to uphold the law. I can’t help but feel you’re trying to railroad me so you can obtain an arrest. But I can assure you, I did not kill my husband. And I’d really like to know who did. So please, make a copy of the bill and look into it. Can you at least promise me you’ll do that?”
His mottled complexion revealed how little he cared for her disparaging comments. But she was right and he knew it. Moving with exaggerated slowness, he photocopied the statement and handed the original back to her. She tucked it into her diaper bag and reached down to pick up little Jacob in his infant carrier.
“Wait,” Sheriff Cantrell said, motioning her to sit back down. “I understand Kyle Benning is back in town.”
Holding his gaze, she waited to hear what this had to do with her.
“I was told he paid you a visit yesterday,” he continued. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
“Kyle and I are old friends,” she replied. “Like everyone else in town, I was told he died in Afghanistan. He wanted to let me know that wasn’t actually the case.”
How stiff she sounded. Still, her meeting with Kyle was none of his business.
“I know you two were more than just friends.” The faint mockery in his voice infuriated her, though she pushed it back down inside. “And now that poor Bill is out of the way, maybe now the two of you can pick up where you left off.”
This was too much, even for her. “That’s not only insulting,” she said. “But hurtful. We haven’t even buried Bill yet.”
Silence. Then, very slowly, Sheriff Cantrell nodded. “My apologies. Sometimes this job makes me think the worst of people.”
Except for Bill. You didn’t want to even consider he might have had a mistress. Of course, she didn’t voice this thought out loud.
She pushed to her feet again. “Please let me know what you find out,” she said, gesturing toward the credit card statement. Jacob’s carrier once again in hand, she turned to go.
The sheriff followed her to the door. “I’ll give you a call if I learn anything,” he said. His detached, professional tone had returned. Nicole wished she had confidence in him actually doing his job and checking the new lead out.
She didn’t understand his sudden loyalty to Bill’s reputation. Though they’d attended the same superstrict church, as far as she knew Bill and Sheriff Cantrell hadn’t been particularly good friends. Though of course, clearly she knew next to nothing about what her husband had done when he wasn’t at home with her. Anything and everything was possible. For all she knew, the two men could have gone bar hopping together. At this point, nothing would surprise her. The one thing marriage to Bill Mabry had taught her was that nothing was as it seemed on the surface.
Once she had Jacob buckled into his rear-facing infant seat, she started Bill’s car and drove away. It had been a long time since she’d driven, though her driver’s license hadn’t expired. Bill never let her drive his BMW and after one of the deputies had delivered it to her along with the keys, she’d felt extremely nervous sitting behind the steering wheel. Now she supposed she’d get used to it eventually.
She drove to Briggses’ Funeral Home. Despite not hearing anything from the Mabrys, she needed to see about making arrangements. Of course, Pastor Theodore would handle the funeral. That was a given. Her parents and Bill’s parents were founding members of The Church on Top of the Hill. Bill had been a deacon there. Of necessity, Nicole had attended as a child and then again once she and Bill had married. After the funeral, she never intended to go there again.
Since there were other things to attend to, such as choosing a casket and a burial plot, she asked to speak to the owner, Joe Wayne Briggs. His son Junior came out to greet her instead.
When she told him the reason for her visit, he led her to a tastefully decorated small office. She couldn’t help but notice the box of tissues placed conspicuously close to her chair.
“Now what can I help you with today?” Junior asked, his attempt to mimic his father’s sonorous tone coming off surprisingly well.
“I’m sure you know my husband, Bill Mabry, recently passed away. I need to see about selecting his casket and purchasing a burial plot.”
Confusion crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Dan and Theresa Mabry have already made all the selections. He’s going to be interred in the Mabry family plot.”
Made all the selections. Without her. One more slap in the face. “I’m his widow,” she began. “I should have been consulted.”
Then, as he stumbled all over himself trying to explain what had happened, she realized this was okay. All of it. Bill’s parents had adored their only son and mourned him, definitely far more than she did. If they knew his true character, their love for him superceded all that.
She, on the other hand, had only been married to him for one year. He’d bullied and abused her, regarded her as a possession rather than an equal partner, and in her heart of hearts, she felt relief rather than sorrow.
“Thank you very much,” she said, interrupting him. “I assume they’ve also handled the obituary?”
At his nod, she exhaled. “Do you happen to have anything printed out yet?”
“We do. We do. Let me get you a copy.” He scurried out of the room. When he returned, he handed her a sealed envelope. “Everything is in here. The casket, the burial plot number and a map to the area, and information on the service.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. “I do apologize for not realizing we should have contacted you. I assumed you were too grief stricken to attend any planning sessions.”
She let that one go. Thanking him, she once again picked up Jacob’s carrier and turned to go.
When she lifted him up to buckle the carrier into the backseat, she realized his little face was bright red. His eyes were closed, and she did a panicked test, wetting her finger and placing it under his nose to make sure he was still breathing.
The instant she did this, he began flailing his arms about and let out a loud cry. Once he got started, his crying increased in volume and intensity, letting her know something was very wrong.
She took him out of the carrier and checked his diaper, finding it dry. No amount of rocking or singing to him made any difference. When a bubbling rash of red welts appeared on his face and arms, she knew something was drastically wrong. Buckling him back into the carrier while he still wailed, she jumped into the car and drove straight for the hospital emergency room.
Chapter 4 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
Kyle finished unpacking his groceries, then stood back and eyed his full refrigerator. He knew he should feel some sort of satisfaction at having successfully begun his journey toward living on his own out of the military, but the best he could summon up was exhaustion.
His doorbell rang. A uniformed deputy stood outside. What now?
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“We have a warrant to search the premises,” the deputy said, handing him an envelope. “Please step aside.”
Stunned, Kyle didn’t move. “Search for what? Don’t I have the right to know what it is I’ve supposedly done?”
“It’s all in the warrant, sir.” Motioning to another uniformed officer, the deputy let his hand hover near his holstered weapon. “Now, please. Step aside.”
With a shrug, Kyle did as he was told.
While the two officers searched his small rental home—which wouldn’t take them very long since Kyle had very few belongings and only the basic furniture that had come with the house—Kyle read the search warrant. The reason given, and approved by a judge, was listed as Bill Mabry’s murder.
Which made absolutely zero sense. Kyle hadn’t even been in town when the guy had died.
Aware that arguing with the deputies wouldn’t change anything, he wandered out to his small back deck to wait until they’d finished their search. He only hoped they didn’t trash the place too badly.
“Sir?” The urgent tone of the deputy’s voice had him jumping to his feet. “Could you come in here please?”
Kyle hurried inside. The two deputies stood near his gun safe, one of the few purchases he’d made before driving back to Anniversary.
“Could you open this for us?”
He wondered if he could refuse. Probably not. A search warrant would definitely include firearms. Heaving a sigh, he dialed in the combination for the lock and opened it. He let the door swing wide and took a step back. “Please handle with care,” he said. “Those pieces were chosen carefully and I can’t afford to replace them.”
To his eternal relief, they treated his small gun collection with respect. All of his weapons were clean and well taken care of, something he’d learned to do while in the army.
“Great condition,” one of the deputies commented.
“And none of them have recently been fired,” said the other.
Kyle simply waited until they’d finished. When they moved away from the safe, he closed the door and locked it. “Anything else you need?” he asked.
“No. I think we’re done.” The two men left.
Once he’d watched them drive away, he inspected his living space. They’d been thorough, he saw, straightening a sofa cushion. But not unnecessarily messy. In fact, if he weren’t so meticulous about his home, he wouldn’t have even known it had been searched.
He had to wonder why anyone could possibly believe he’d been involved in the murder of a man he hadn’t even known. Simply because he’d visited Nicole? Did that mean she was under some sort of surveillance? Or were they probing her past for any kind of connection that might have compelled her to kill her husband?
Her husband. The words stuck in his craw. It was always supposed to be the two of them—Kyle and Nicole. Anyone who’d known them prior to one year ago would understand this. And might suspect that underneath the thin veneer of civility, strong emotions swirled and seethed.
It wouldn’t be too great of a leap of faith to wonder if he had returned home to Anniversary to find his woman married to another man, whom he’d killed in a fit of jealously. Kyle supposed he ought to thank his lucky stars that the timing was all wrong. The day Bill Mabry had died, Kyle had been in Mississippi. He had motel receipts to prove it. And Nicole had still believed him to be dead.
The sheriff had his deputies barking up the wrong tree.
His cell phone rang. “Kyle, it’s Bret. I’m at the hospital ER with Heather. She’s fine—it was false labor so we’re heading back home. I thought you might want to know I saw Nicole come in with her baby.” He paused. “If I’m bothering you, I’m sorry. I don’t know how things are between the two of you. But from what I can tell, Nicole is all alone. If you’re truly friends, I think she could use your help. Especially if something happens to the baby.”
The baby. Possibly his son. Though his gut clenched, Kyle forced himself to breathe deeply and calmly. “What happened? Was there some sort of an accident?”
“No idea. But judging from the way they rushed her and little Jacob into the back, he’s in bad shape.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” Kyle said, and ended the call. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure why exactly Bret had decided to call him, but figured his old friend would guess Kyle still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about Nicole.
And the baby. Who might or might not really be his son.
Snatching up his car keys, Kyle headed to the hospital. He didn’t bother analyzing why. He just knew he had to go. Whether or not Nicole wanted him there.
* * *
By the time Nicole had pulled up in front of the emergency room, Jacob had begun wheezing, as if he couldn’t suck in air.
Forcing down the panic, she’d managed to unbuckle him from his infant carrier, snatch him up and run into the ER, shouting for help. The triage nurse had taken one look at Jacob and paged for help.
She’d hustled Nicole through the double doors into the actual ER and a nurse came running. Nicole had handed over her precious baby and the nurse hustled him into a room, Nicole right on her heels.
Now someone came and asked for her insurance card, which she handed over. The doctor appeared, helping the nurse get Jacob’s clothing off, including his diaper. “Nurse,” the doctor ordered. “Use Broselow Tape to quickly get his weight and dose out epi based on that.”
As the nurse hurriedly complied, Jacob wheezed, his eyes huge, his face red with welts. He alternated between trying to breathe and attempting to cry. Frantic to help him any way she could, she watched the doctor as he accepted the syringe and injected it into Jacob’s thigh. “It’s epinephrine,” he told Nicole. “The nurse will start him on an IV with Benadryl and steroids.”
Terrified, Nicole nodded. While the nurse bustled around, carefully inserting an IV in Jacob’s wrist, the doctor turned his attention back to the infant, who squirmed and still appeared to be having a hard time breathing. His struggle broke Nicole’s heart. She realized she’d never truly known abject terror until this moment.
“Help him, please,” she implored the doctor.
“We’re doing everything we can,” he responded. “Look. He’s breathing better. And those hives will subside, too.”
Relieved, she clutched the side of the hospital bed to keep her knees from giving out.
“It’s already working, ma’am,” the nurse said, her tone soothing. “Look at him. We’ll have him back to normal soon.”
“Thank goodness,” Nicole said, swaying with relief.
“Was he bitten by something?” the doctor asked Nicole, his voice curt, all of his focus still on Jacob. “Or did you give him something different—formula or juice? This is definitely an allergic reaction.”
“There’s been no change in his diet. As for a bite, I don’t know,” she answered. “One minute, he cried out, then the hives appeared.”
“Sounds like a bee sting,” the doctor said. “Let me see if I can find the stinger.” He began a thorough search of Jacob’s skin, which was still covered in welts.
Careful to keep out of both the doctor’s and the nurse’s way, Nicole moved as close as she could to her baby. To her immense relief, Jacob’s wheezing disappeared. Once he could breathe again, he began crying, a confused and hurt wail that tore at her heart. She ached to gather him up and hold him close to her, but the ER doctor was busy inspecting him, searching for a sting or bite mark.
While he did this, the nurse finished hooking Jacob up to the machines. Gradually, his wailing turned into sniffles, and then little snuffling sounds. He latched his little hand on to her finger, holding on tightly. Chest tight with love, she gazed at her baby boy, aware she’d never survive losing him.
“Here it is,” the doctor pronounced, glancing up at her and adjusting his glasses with one finger. “This looks like either a wasp or a bee sting. I’ve removed the stinger. The meds are working and I think he’s going to be just fine.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Nicole said. She wanted to hug the man. And the nurse too. “Can I take him home now?”
“Not yet. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him for several hours.”
Puzzled, she frowned. “Why?”
“We need to monitor his heart due to the epinephrine. We also need to make sure he doesn’t have a rebound reaction once the epi wears off. Then, if all looks good, you can both go home.”
Grateful, she nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” The doctor wrote something in the chart, handed it to the nurse and left the room.
“You can hold him now,” the nurse told her. “Just be careful of the IV and the other wires. Press the call button if you need anything. We’ll be checking on you periodically.”
Once the nurse had gone, Nicole carefully reached for Jacob. As soon as she had him in her arms, she felt the last bit of tension leave his tiny body. She climbed up to sit on his hospital bed, careful of all the apparatus, and held him close. Singing soft, she rocked him to sleep.
When the door swung open again about twenty minutes later, she looked up with a smile, assuming either the nurse or doctor had returned. Instead, Kyle stood framed in the doorway, his gaze locking on hers.
She froze, not sure what to think or say. He came into the room, closed the door carefully and quietly behind him.
“Is he all right?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
Slowly, she nodded. “I think so. Right now, they want us to stay so they can monitor him.”
“What happened?”
Instead of answering his question, she frowned at him. “Why are you here?”
“One of my friends happened to see you come in and called me.” He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “I came by because...” He paused. “I don’t know why I’m here. I thought maybe you could use a friend right now.”
Touched despite herself, she blinked back tears. Which infuriated her. She would not cry in front of him. Never again. “Is that what you are?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Because you sure didn’t act like it earlier.”
In her arms, Jacob stirred. Instantly, she began making soothing sounds and rocking him again. Once he’d settled back into sleep, she looked up and met Kyle’s intense gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was shocked. And, I’ll admit, hurt. I’ve had some time to think about what you said.”
Unsure whether or not to be appeased, she finally nodded. “You can do a DNA test, you know. It’s a simple thing to prove or disprove, these days.”
“I know it is.” He paused, eyeing her sleeping son. “Tell me, does he have green eyes?”
“He’s only three months old,” she pointed out. “Babies are usually born with light-colored eyes. Around six to nine months old is when it’s easier to predict their final color. I’m hoping he gets your green eyes. But it’s too early to tell.”
“I see.” He leaned closer, resting his elbow on the edge of the bed near her knee. “Are you going to tell me what brought you here?”
She told him what had happened and what the doctor had said.
“He’s allergic to bee stings?” he repeated, his expression shocked.
“Yep. Like you were as a kid. I have to find out if I need to keep an EpiPen or something with me at all times.”
“I still am.” His voice husky, he shook his head. “Allergic to bees. Stuff like that never goes away.”
Chest tight, heart aching, she let her gaze roam over him. He had some new lines on his face, some wear and tear from whatever had happened to him in Afghanistan. He looked older, wearier, almost battle-hardened, yet he was still the tall broad-shouldered man with the bright green eyes she’d once loved.
How badly she wished they could go back in time and change some of the choices they’d made. She wouldn’t have let him join the army, for one. They should have taken a chance on the future with each other, even if they were too young and broke to know better. Getting pregnant with Jacob was something she’d never give up, not for anything in the world, but how much sweeter those nine months would have been with Kyle by her side.
Since she’d learned the hard way that dwelling on the past accomplished nothing, she forced those thoughts away and focused on the here and now.
“What happened to your husband?” he asked. “I’m sorry—I know that’s a personal question, but since sheriff’s deputies showed up at my house with a search warrant earlier, I figure I have a right to know.”
“A search warrant?” Aware her mouth had fallen open, she closed it, continuing to rock her son so he wouldn’t sense her rising agitation. “Why on earth would they think you had anything to do with Bill’s death?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you could tell me?”
Jacob stirred in her arms, making that little mewling sound he sometimes made to indicate his hunger. He opened his eyes and nuzzled her arm, seeking his meal. A rush of milk coming in made her breast tingle. She grabbed the baby blanket she’d wrapped around her son earlier and arranged it so she could nurse him.
Once little Jacob was happily drinking, she looked at Kyle and shook her head. “I’d be happy to tell you about it, but not here. Right now I just want Jacob to be released so I can take him home.”
Though he nodded, she could tell from the tightness in his jaw that he didn’t care for her response.
The nurse came in then, smiling. “Well, hello there,” she said. “I’m glad Daddy got to come in too. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that so far, everything is looking good. We should be able to discharge you soon.”
Daddy. The word brought a lump to her throat.
Nicole glanced at the clock on the wall. Ninety minutes had passed. “Thank you.”
Instead of leaving, the nurse went over to check on Jacob. Kyle pushed to his feet, moving out of the way and going to stand near the doorway. Nicole couldn’t help but notice how he filled up the room with his sheer size and masculine presence. Evidently the nurse noticed as well, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Nicole, as if to say Men!
“I hope it’s okay that I fed him,” Nicole said. “He was hungry.”
The nurse chuckled. “I can see that. Nothing has changed as far as his vitals, so let me go round up the doctor and get him to sign the form so you can all go home.”
* * *
Watching Nicole give the baby nourishment again stirred up a rush of complicated emotions. Kyle wasn’t certain of the etiquette—should he look away—but Nicole’s quiet competence and the fact that she kept herself covered put him at ease.
Though he tried unobtrusively to study Jacob, looking for some sort of resemblance, the infant looked like an infant. He supposed three months might be too young for the baby to start showing his parents’ features.
Right now, it didn’t really matter. He believed Nicole. After all, she had no real reason to lie to him. Especially since Jacob’s parentage could be easily proven with a simple DNA test.
Which meant Kyle had a son. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. Children with Nicole had always been part of his long-range plans, but her marriage to another man sent those completely out the window. She’d sworn to wait for him and damned if she hadn’t gotten married a month after he’d been erroneously declared dead. Kyle knew he could never get past that huge betrayal.
In addition, she’d apparently passed Jacob off as Bill Mabry’s child. This both infuriated him and saddened him. Clearly, he hadn’t known Nicole as well as he’d believed.
Getting Jacob released to leave took a lot longer than he’d thought. The way the nurse had talked, the doctor would sign some paper and that was that. He figured it’d take a couple of minutes, but when a half hour turned into forty-five, he could barely keep his frustration under control.
To make matters worse, someone dropped something metal out in the hall, and Kyle found himself on the floor, in full defensive cover position. While at Walter Reed hospital, they’d told him he’d need therapy to get help with his PTSD. He’d have to find someone local, once he got settled in.
Slowly, he got to his feet. Stone-faced, he hoped his expression hadn’t revealed his embarrassment, but all of Nicole’s attention was focused on her baby. As if she hadn’t even noticed. He had a sneaking suspicion she was doing this to spare his feelings, but couldn’t ask her.
Finally, after nearly an hour had passed, the nurse returned, along with the doctor. They gave Nicole instructions, what to watch for, that sort of thing, and then informed her she could go.
He followed her outside. When she reached her car, a late model shiny black BMW, she turned to face him. “I know we need to talk,” she began. “But I’m exhausted and really would like to go home and get some rest. Let’s plan on meeting up some time tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”
She gave it to him and he entered it into his contacts. “I’ll text you mine,” he said.
“Thank you.” She unlocked her car.
Feeling out of sorts, he watched her while she buckled little Jacob into his infant carrier. She barely looked at Kyle once she’d done that, getting into the driver’s side, starting the engine and buckling herself in. Finally, she waved before driving away.
Fool that he was, he watched her go and wondered how he could both love and hate someone at the same time.
The next morning, while he drank a cup of strong black coffee made in his new coffeepot, he texted Nicole his number. Thirty minutes later, she texted back, asking him if he had some free time to sit down and talk. She’d prefer to come to his place. When he asked why, she texted that she had a strong suspicion someone was watching her house.
He gave her the address and told her to come over in about an hour. That’d give him time to shower and get dressed.
Exactly fifty-nine minutes later, the black BMW pulled up in front of his little house. He watched from the front window, keeping his eye on the street so he could see if she’d been followed.
When no other vehicle showed up, he opened his front door and went out to help her. She unlocked the trunk, asking him if he’d mind getting the portable Pack n’ Play. While he wrestled this out onto the sidewalk, she handled the baby and a large diaper bag.
Inside the house, he set down the contraption in the middle of the living room. To his surprise, once he opened it, the thing practically set itself up.
“Thank you.” Nicole smiled at him, and the entire world shifted.
He blinked, turning away until he could ground himself back in reality. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he intended.
Barely looking up from getting her baby settled, she responded. “Water would be great.”
Listen to them. Talking in careful platitudes as if they were complete strangers. In a way, they actually were.
Except that only one year—one stinking year—had passed since he’d kissed her goodbye and gone off to serve his country. How could so much have changed in such a short period of time?
But it had. Returning with two bottled waters, he handed one to her before taking a seat in the armchair, leaving the entire couch for her.
“Nice place,” she commented, glancing around the small room.
“Yours is much nicer,” he pointed out. Not to be cruel, but because it was. But her smile faltered and for one second she looked sad.
But then she lifted her chin and willed herself out of it. “Thank you. It isn’t what I would have chosen, but it’s a decent house.”
Decent.
A flash of anger ripped through him. He realized he couldn’t just sit there and act as if they were casual acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them. As though she hadn’t been his entire reason for living.
“I can’t do this,” he growled. “I know you’ve moved on—I get it. For you, it’s been a long time. For me, it feels like it was just yesterday when you kissed me and told me you’d love me forever.”
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Karen Whiddon
He never expected to live againOr have a family…Whilst Army ranger Kyle Benning was believed dead in an explosion, his widow, Nicole Shelton gave birth to his child. Now she’s a prime suspect in a murder case! Kyle battles trauma and a dangerous killer to rescue the woman he still loves…
“Jacob is your son.”
A thrilling new Top Secret Deliveries story
Army ranger Kyle Benning never expected to live again...or have a family. When he was believed dead in an explosion, Nicole Shelton gave birth to Kyle’s baby. Now she’s a widow and a prime suspect in a murder case! Everything Kyle once knew is as dangerous as a war zone, but he battles trauma and a killer to rescue the woman he still loves.
KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amid the gorgeous Catskill Mountains, then the majestic Rocky Mountains, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty surrounding her. Karen now lives in north Texas, writes full-time and volunteers for a boxer dog rescue. She shares her life with her hero of a husband and four to five dogs, depending on if she is fostering. You can email Karen at kwhiddon1@aol.com. Fans can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com (http://www.karenwhiddon.com).
Also by Karen Whiddon
The CEO’s Secret BabyThe Cop’s Missing ChildThe Millionaire Cowboy’s SecretTexas Secrets, Lovers’ LiesThe Rancher’s ReturnThe Texan’s ReturnWyoming UndercoverThe Texas Soldier’s SonRunaway ColtonThe Temptation of Dr. Colton
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Texas Soldier’s Son
Karen Whiddon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07891-7
THE TEXAS SOLDIER’S SON
© 2018 Karen Whiddon
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicated to my daughter, Stephanie Waters.
One of the strongest women I know. I love you, Steph.
Contents
Cover (#u28d83b89-b78d-53df-b708-2c87469dbeef)
Back Cover Text (#ue06437a4-1c0c-5436-814b-ea1e2571383b)
About the Author (#ue1fca6d0-0e53-5443-b9de-082349c6dcf8)
Booklist (#u343534ed-989f-5b74-88a7-5b77ee7bf450)
Title Page (#uf7481a70-5403-5bbf-93af-aa93875c5878)
Copyright (#ua8df246c-ae94-5ebb-b961-6567ec3a7de5)
Dedication (#ubbfac2c1-6ef9-567a-84d3-9ad18049430f)
Chapter 1 (#u56de7933-0286-580a-881b-97bf756e2938)
Chapter 2 (#ue179a46e-607e-5005-ac72-084fb60b684f)
Chapter 3 (#uecf3b9c0-727a-53c4-8a9b-c02b1b30c0c0)
Chapter 4 (#u5ae37ea0-73df-5886-9869-c2cc71150d9a)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
“He’s dead?” Nicole Shelton-Mabry gripped the phone so hard she thought it might break. “What do you mean, he’s dead? He was fine when he left for work this morning.” If by fine, one meant hungover. Last night her husband Bill had staggered in at 3 a.m., slurring her name, already in a rage by the time she’d hurried downstairs. The black-and-blue bruise on her upper arm had been his response to her tentative hello. Luckily, once he’d vented his anger, he’d stumbled to the couch and passed out before he could hit her again.
The pain had blossomed like an explosion. Since she had experience covering bruises, and luckily this time he hadn’t got her face, she knew she needed to put ice on it. Wincing as she explored her arm and shoulder with tentative fingers, she supposed she ought to be glad he hadn’t broken anything this time.
Prone on the couch, he’d let out a snore. She’d stood staring at him for a moment, hatred mingling with her pain, and wished she’d had enough guts to grab her cast-iron skillet and slam it into his skull until he’d never be able to hurt her again. Instead, she’d gone to the freezer and wrapped ice in a dishtowel, glad baby Jacob still slept in his crib upstairs.
She’d taken a deep breath, crossed the room and carefully removed Bill’s wallet from his back pocket. He loved to carry wads of cash and his drinking made him careless with his money, so she’d been removing as much as she safely could each time he passed out.
This time she took an extra twenty in addition to the hundred and five. He’d never asked her about his money and she figured he probably thought he’d spent it at whatever hellhole he frequented the next town over. Topless bars were his favorite and he didn’t dare go anywhere around here where someone he knew might see him. After all, he had his position as church deacon to consider.
Replacing his wallet, she’d hurried to the laundry room and shoved the bills in her hiding place, a brown envelope tucked in the pocket on the back of the washer behind the laundry detergent, fabric softener and dryer sheets. The one place Bill never went was the laundry room. Instead, he’d shove his smoke-scented, bourbon-stained clothes at her with an order to get them clean.
She’d been taking money from him for several months. Soon, she hoped to have enough to get her and Jacob on a bus that would carry them to a new life somewhere far, far away.
“Nicole? Are you there?” Yates, an older man who worked for Bill, sounded tired. “I know this is a shock, but Dan and Theresa are too upset and I figured someone needed to let you know.”
Dan and Theresa were Bill’s parents. They all worked together at the trucking company Dan had started years ago.
Mabry Trucking. If they knew what kind of man their son had become, they never let on to Nicole.
“I’m here,” Nicole replied, her voice shaky and her mouth dry. She knew she needed to pretend the same way she pretended in church that she, Bill and Jacob were one big, happy family, but she couldn’t. Not yet, not now, with a bruise the size of a robin’s egg on her cheekbone underneath her swollen black eye. “What happened, Yates? Was he in an accident?”
“Nope.” Despite the somber tone, Yates didn’t sound like he was grieving too much either. She imagined Bill had made his life hell as well.
“He just keeled over at his desk,” Yate continued. “Cup of coffee in his hand. I called 911 and they tried to revive him, but he was already gone. I think maybe he had a massive heart attack.”
After thanking him for calling, Nicole hung up. She knew she should have felt something, anything instead of this awful numbness, but digging deep, the only emotion she felt was relief.
The next several hours passed in a blur. Nicole stuck to her house as much as possible, answering the phone and trying to regain her composure. She’d thought she’d have decisions to make over her husband’s funeral, but his mother had taken over all that, promising only to make sure Nicole got the details, along with the bill.
That afternoon, she’d had a few visitors, mainly from Bill’s church, where she assumed none of them had truly known her husband.
Her own parents even made a token appearance to express their condolences. Her mother had brought Nicole a chicken casserole, offered a mechanical hug and didn’t even ask to see the baby. Nicole went and got Jacob after his nap and brought him out, which immediately made her parents decide to leave.
Luckily, at three months old, Jacob was too young to be hurt. Nicole knew she wanted to make sure he never was. Her parents bore no love for her son. They, along with Bill himself, were the only ones who knew Bill wasn’t actually Jacob’s father. They’d all made sure not one word leaked about Jacob’s parentage. None of them wanted to deal with the shame. As for Nicole, if she could have, she’d have shouted the truth from the rooftops.
The phone rang, Nicole answered. Bill’s mother called several times and wept, sounding as if she was nearly prostrate from grief. Bill’s father, a man Nicole suspected was much like Bill himself, remained stoic, saying only that he’d be supporting his wife through it all. They’d begrudgingly allowed Nicole to make a few choices as to the final arrangements. She was their son’s wife after all, whether they liked her or not. She’d had Jacob after all, which helped her status in their eyes. The Mabrys doted on the infant, whom they believed to be the next Mabry heir.
Now alone in the big house, Nicole figured she’d eventually tell them the truth. She’d actually be glad to, because she’d grown weary of living such a bold-faced lie. Once, it had been a necessity. Now, as a new widow, she figured she’d be able to sell the house and combine that money with whatever was in the bank account and move far, far away from this place.
She went to bed early, slept deeply, and rose shortly after seven, when Jacob wanted his feeding.
After coffee and a shower, she debated simply unplugging the land line. But before she could, the phone rang, the shrill sound making her jump. Yesterday, she’d found the steady barrage of calls overwhelming. She’d actually stopped answering for a few hours and let the machine take care of it instead. After the sun set, the calls had died down to a trickle and then ceased altogether, giving her a quiet night.
Now with the morning, clearly they were starting up again.
Caller ID showed the Anniversary sheriff’s department, so she answered. “Missus Mabry, this is Sheriff Cantrell. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Your husband’s parents insisted on an autopsy, so we rushed one through. The Medical Examiner put Bill ahead of everything else, considering all the Mabrys have done for this community.” He took a deep breath. “Are you sitting down, ma’am?”
When she allowed that she wasn’t, he gently asked her to please do so. Her stomach churned, but she did as he asked and told him she’d done so.
“Good, good.” Now he cleared his throat. “The coroner’s report came back and Bill didn’t die of heart disease as originally believed.” He paused, probably for dramatic effect. “He was poisoned. We found high concentrations of arsenic in his coffee.”
“Poisoned?” Blinking, she struggled to process his words. “You’re saying someone at the office poisoned him?”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “However, several of his employees claim he brought the coffee with him. I don’t know if it came from home or if he stopped and bought some and poured it into his own cup. Do you have any idea?”
She shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see her. “No, I don’t. He usually doesn’t have time to make coffee here, but I don’t know where he’d stop to buy it.”
“Gas station, maybe. Or fast food place.” Another dramatic pause. “Listen, Nicole. Do you know if Bill had any enemies? Anyone who might want to harm him?”
He meant murder him, she thought. With Bill’s abrasive, confrontational personality and his entitled, the-world-owes-me belief, she couldn’t imagine many people liked him. But she truly didn’t know. Bill kept her separated from his work life. Heck, Bill had kept her separated from everything and everyone, with the exception of the church his uncle had founded. And even there, he never allowed her to be alone with anyone. She guessed he was too worried she’d tell the truth about him.
“I’m sorry,” she finally admitted. “I have no idea.”
“I see.” The sheriff’s sigh told her he’d hoped for more. “You might want to go see your mother-in-law. She’s taking her son’s death pretty hard.”
“I imagine,” Nicole murmured. Bill had been Theresa Mabry’s entire world. “Unfortunately, I don’t have a car. I have no way to get over there.” Bill hadn’t liked her to have the freedom of her own vehicle, so they’d only owned one, which he took to work every day.
“Oh.” Apparently nonplussed, Sheriff Cantrell went silent for a few seconds. “I’ll have one of my guys bring your car back to you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, relieved when he ended the call.
Bill was dead. The words echoed over and over inside her head. Bill. Was. Dead. Never to hit her again. Never to scream invectives at her, never to force her to have sex whenever and wherever he felt like it. Gone.
She couldn’t bring herself to mourn the monster Bill had been, though she empathized with the pain his parents must feel. She imagined they’d search long and hard for whoever had done this to their beloved son. Once the perpetrator had been found, the Mabrys would enact a swift and merciless vengeance.
Not sure what else to do, Nicole stuck to her usual routine, taking care of Jacob and housecleaning while he slept. She did two loads of laundry and almost caught herself ironing Bill’s work shirts—he liked them well starched. She remembered in time and simply hung them up in his closet without pressing them.
One of the sheriff’s deputies delivered Bill’s car and keys around three. Another officer followed in a marked patrol car. Both of them expressed sympathy at her loss as they handed over the keys. Dry-eyed, she thanked them, staring at the BMW and hoping she remembered how to drive.
Once they were gone, she went back inside. Jacob’s car seat was still tucked in the closet under the stairs, since Bill refused to drive around with a car seat in his car. She carried it outside, glad Jacob was napping, and placed it in the backseat the way she always did before church. Once she had it properly attached, she stood back with some satisfaction and surveyed her handiwork. This time, she wouldn’t be pulling the car seat out.
After locking the car, she returned to her home and checked both her cell and the landline. No missed calls. Which meant neither of Bill’s parents had felt the need to call his wife to commiserate about his death.
Which meant that she should call them. While she wasn’t really close to either of Bill’s parents, she’d guessed they had no idea how their son treated her or what kind of activities he enjoyed in his spare time. She wouldn’t take that away from them, not in a million years.
So she took a deep breath and dialed Theresa’s cell phone. Theresa picked up on the third ring.
“Nicole,” she said, her voice husky from crying. “I assume you’ve heard. I can’t believe my Billy boy is gone.”
“I’m still trying to process the news,” Nicole admitted. “The Sheriff said they thought someone might have poisoned him?”
Theresa sniffled. “Yes. They’ve asked us to make a list of possible enemies who could be potential suspects.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Is it?” Theresa’s voice hardened. “I’m going to do you a favor and give you advance notice,” she continued. “Your name will be on that list.”
“What?” Nicole’s heart caught in her throat. Shocked, she struggled to find a response. Any response. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because my son told us about you. He said you’re a money-grubber, never satisfied with anything he gave you.” Vicious anger warred with grief in the older woman’s voice. “Now you have the house and the car and his bank account. But so help me, if we find one shred of evidence to indicate it was you, we will come after you. If you did anything to harm Bill, you will never be allowed to raise our grandson. Do you understand?”
* * *
Kyle Benning dragged his hand over his freshly-cut hair and struggled to relax the tension in his shoulders. Despite his honorable discharge from the army, he continued to wear his hair military-style. He felt more comfortable that way. Once an army ranger, always an army ranger.
That said, he couldn’t wait to get home. He had no choice but to surprise Nicole and show up without a phone call, since her number had changed. Worst of all, he hadn’t even had a cell phone until after he’d been discharged from the hospital. They’d flown him Afghanistan to Ramstein in Germany, where he’d remained until his condition was no longer considered critical. Months later, conscious and able to finally sit up and take solid foods, they’d deemed him on the road to recovery. Finally.
Then, they’d put him aboard another transport plane and he’d traveled from Ramstein to Walter Reed hospital in Bethesda, Maryland to continue his convalescence. Since he’d been in a medically induced coma for several months, he hadn’t been aware of any of this. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to him, but at least he knew who he was.
And who he wasn’t. The name tags around his neck weren’t his. After the enemy had taken most of the soldier’s dog tags, Hank Smith had managed to hang onto one of his and had pressed it into Kyle’s hand before dying.
No one would believe him at first. Then the IED had ripped their world apart in a single blaze of light. He’d learned Hank had been killed, torn apart by the blast, still wearing Kyle’s dog tags. Kyle had been believed dead.
The only family of his that they could locate, the foster family back in Anniversary, Texas, who had raised him, had already been notified of his passing. Kyle doubted they’d even cared, but he’d worried himself sick about Nicole, the love of his life and the woman he’d planned to marry someday.
He tried to call her, only to learn her cell phone had been disconnected. Her parents number had also been changed and apparently was unlisted,
Briefly, he wondered if she was safe. It had been an entire year since he’d held her in his arms. Through all his seemingly endless deployment, her picture and thoughts of her love had kept him sane. Despite losing the photograph in the explosion, she’d never left his heart or his memory.
These days, he might be all messed up, but he knew she would be able to help him get through this. PTSD, they’d told him, as if that acronym could cover his nightmares and jumpiness, the irritability and constant, pressing fear. Even here, away from the constant sound of gunfire and explosions, any innocent loud sound could have him instantly on alert.
Nicole, Nicole, Nicole. He chanted her name in the middle of night sweats, the double syllables becoming his mantra, the single thing he clung to in order to keep from falling over the edge.
She was his rock.
He hated the fact that she’d been told he was dead. And that he hadn’t been able to reach out to her for so long. He took comfort in the knowledge that her parents would have at least let her know he still lived, even if he was only half the man he’d once been. At least he hoped they’d told her. Since she’d never taken the time to call him, he kind of doubted that they had.
No matter. He’d be setting things straight soon.
The 2013 Chevy Silverado he drove had been one of his lone expenditures. He’d paid cash for the used pickup, knowing he’d need something reliable for the drive west to Anniversary. Excitement jumped inside him, drowning out some of the ever-present anxiety. Excitement and, dare he say, joy. Because soon, he’d be with Nicole. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he knocked on her door, to pull her into his arms and breathe the fresh strawberry scent of her shampoo, to kiss her lips until they both felt as if they were drowning.
In his pocket, he had the only other thing he’d spent part of his savings on. An engagement ring. As soon as he and Nicole got caught up, he planned to get down on bended knee and ask her formally to be his wife.
They’d talked about marrying before he’d signed up for the army. He’d even given her his high school class ring as a token, proof that he was hers and vice versa. She’d taken to wearing it with a long chain around her neck, safely tucked under her shirt so her strict parents wouldn’t see.
God, he loved her. As his truck ate up the miles, he amused himself with imagining several different scenarios when they saw each other for the first time in over a year. His favorite was the one where she hopped into his truck, they drove out to the lake and made love right there in the cab.
Finally, he crossed from Louisiana into Texas. Not too much farther now. The hum of his tires on the asphalt soothed him and he felt more relaxed than he had since the explosion.
When the Anniversary city limits sign came into view, dusk had settled over the sky. The sunset colored the sky pink and orange, promising another hot East Texas day tomorrow. He remembered how everyone liked to complain about the summer heat. It would be a cakewalk compared to the temperatures in Kabul.
Instead of heading toward the small frame home he’d rented via the internet for the next six months, he drove directly to Nicole’s parents’ house, praying she’d be home. Parking out front, he jogged up the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his chest, and rang the bell.
A moment later, the door opened. Nicole’s mother stared at him, frowning. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the rancor in her voice startling.
“I’ve been discharged from the hospital, ma’am,” he said, figuring he’d kill her with kindness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see Nicole.”
“Nicole?” She recoiled as violently as if he’d struck her. “Nicole doesn’t live here. She’s over on Broad Street in the house she shared with her husband and son.” A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. “Bill Mabry? I’m thinking you might remember him?”
He hadn’t gotten much past the words husband and son. When he finally caught up, the name Bill Mabry made his stomach churn. That had been the same guy her parents had tried to force her to marry when he and Nicole had been together.
“Well?” The older woman stared, her gaze hard. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words out past the huge lump in his throat. Only when she’d started to close the huge oak door in his face did he think of the one other thing he needed to know. “Did Nicole even mourn me at all?”
“Of course not,” she said smoothly, without missing a beat. “Once the army notified your foster family of your death, she’d moved on. She was already married with a newborn by then. I didn’t want to disrupt her life.”
And then she waited, eying him with a certain mocking relish, waiting for him to reveal how devastating he found her answer. He refused to give her the pleasure.
Though his head spun, he turned on his heel, the military precision of the movement kicking in by instinctive habit. Somehow, he made it to his truck, unlocked the doors and slid inside. Turning the key, he started the engine, put the shifter into Drive and pulled away.
He started to head to the park by the lake, the same secluded place he’d intended to take Nicole, but instead he found himself heading toward Broad Street. He still couldn’t believe her mother’s words, couldn’t accept that she hadn’t waited barely any time at all before getting married and pregnant. For her to have a newborn, that meant she’d jumped into bed with this Bill Mabry guy right after getting the erroneous news of Kyle’s demise.
Had he truly meant that little to her?
Anguish turned to anger as he made the turn onto North Broad. Since he had no idea which house she lived in, he drove slowly up the street, feeling more and more like a stalker.
All his hopes, all his dreams, his entire freaking future, he’d pinned on her. On them. Now, she’d left him with nothing.
When he reached the intersection that separated North Broad from South, he made a decision. Why torture himself further with a confrontation? Signaling a right turn, he drove instead to his rental, the place where he’d be living for the next six months.
On the way there, he stopped at the downtown liquor mart and purchased a bottle of tequila, a twelve pack of beer and some moonshine. Thus fortified, he pulled up to his empty house, parked and took a deep breath before carrying his bags inside.
Apparently one part of his life was over. He’d need to come to terms with that before he could figure out where to go from here. Right now, he couldn’t even summon up the energy to care.
* * *
Despite everything her parents had put her through, after speaking with the Bill’s mom, Nicole had the overwhelming urge to call her own mother. She wasn’t sure why; the older woman had never been the slightest bit supportive or even caring. But Nicole had no one else to talk to and despite their differences, she had to believe blood would win out over water and her mother would be on her side.
Or would she? Fran Shelton had always adored and fawned over Bill, even before she’d finally gotten her way and forced her own daughter to marry him. Nicole had lost count over how many times she’d gushed about how lucky she was that he’d married her daughter. The implication being that Nicole should be grateful too.
At first, she had been. She’d been single and pregnant with parents who demanded she either marry their choice or be thrown out onto the streets. They hadn’t cared whether Nicole—or her baby—lived or died. And Nicole knew the only thing that kept them from demanding she get an abortion was their religion and the fact that she was a legal adult. For that at least, she was thankful. Bill had felt like her only choice to give her baby a safe start in life. Turned out she’d been wrong about that too.
In the end, Nicole decided against calling her mother. The last thing she needed right now was to hear the woman who’d given birth to her accuse her of murdering Bill.
The sniffles and soft cries coming from the baby monitor revealed baby Jacob was awake from his nap. Glad of a distraction, she hurried upstairs to get him before he started crying in earnest. He chortled when he saw her, filling her heart with so much love she thought she might burst.
For the first time, the enormity of the recent events hit her full force. She and Jacob were safe. No more beatings, her standing between him and the baby’s room just in case he decided to take his drunken rage out on her son. Despite his over the top infatuation with Nicole, Bill barely tolerated the infant, well aware he wasn’t the father, and had taken to referring to Jacob as that little bastard. And not in an affectionate way. He regarded Nicole as his possession and Jacob as an unfortunate addition he’d had to put up with in order to own her.
She’d dreaded the first time Bill tried to hurt her child, knowing she’d kill him if need be. Now, she no longer had to worry about that. While she knew it was morally wrong to be glad someone had been murdered, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.
She hadn’t had to run away to be free.
Picking up Jacob, she held him close, breathing in the baby powder scent of him, and allowed herself a smidgen of happiness. This house belonged to her now—not that she particularly liked it or wanted it—Bill had chosen it after all. But she had a roof over her head as long as she could pay the mortgage. And since Bill had loved to boast about their huge savings account, she figured she’d be okay. At least for a while. Long enough for Jacob to grow a bit. She didn’t want to get a job and put him in daycare until he was a little older.
Her doorbell chimed, again and again, startling her. Still holding Jacob, she hurried downstairs and looked out the peephole to see who’d come to call. Spotting the uniformed sheriff, her stomach twisted. Now what? Had Theresa Mabry called him with her unfounded accusations?
Nicole took a deep breath and opened the door. Sheriff Cantrell was new to the job, having only replaced Bleaker a few months ago. Prior to that, he’d been a deputy for years.
“Mrs. Mabry?” The formality in his normally friendly voice was her first warning. “I’d like to talk to you about the murder of your husband, Bill. Theresa Mabry has given us reason to believe you’re a potential person of interest.”
Chapter 2 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
That night, even tequila couldn’t dull Kyle’s night terrors. Though he’d never been a fan of alcohol, after the explosion he’d learned that self-medicating helped. The news about Nicole had been another kind of explosion, blowing up everything he’d had left to live for. Though for Nicole, an entire year had passed and she’d gone on with her life, for him it felt like barely a few months had passed. Being in a coma for a long time had that effect on a person.
He’d never seen this betrayal coming. Not in a million years. In a shaky world full of snipers and IEDs, Nicole’s love had been the one constant, the one certainty he’d believed he could count on. Clearly, their relationship had been nothing but a lie to her.
He drank enough to pass out, alternating with beer, before switching to the more potent moonshine. Once he couldn’t see straight, he staggered into the bedroom and the lumpy mattress that had come with the house and let his body fall onto the bed.
He prayed and hoped for at least a couple of hours oblivion, knowing he’d be lucky to get even that. But when he sat straight up in bed with a gasp, while thunder cracked and boomed outside, he hadn’t been surprised to find himself automatically reaching for his weapon. Thunder sounded like explosions. It took him a full twelve seconds to realize the flashes of light were actually lightning, accompanying the roar of steady rain.
A storm. East Texas thunder boomer. Like someone had sliced a hole in the clouds and let the water all dump out at once. It didn’t rain like this in Afghanistan. Proof positive that he was home, that it all hadn’t been a dream.
And then he remembered Nicole. The pain slicing through his gut had him doubling over, nausea coming in waves. Racing for the bathroom, he barely made it before retching up the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.
Once he thought he was done, he rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed, pulling the covers over his head and trying to shut down his brain. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what a cluster his life had become.
He’d rented this house for six months, paying cash in advance including the deposit. According to the rental contract, he had to stay there the entire time or forfeit the money. He supposed he could walk away, but the truth of the matter was he had nowhere else to go. Anniversary was his hometown, where he’d grown up, gone to school and planned to settle and raise his own kids someday.
Kids. Another jolt, straight to the heart. The only woman he’d ever wanted to have children with now had one of her own, with another man.
Covering his eyes, he listened to the storm raging outside, matching the emotions inside.
Finally, he must have fallen asleep. When he next opened his eyes, sunshine streamed through the bedroom windows, relentlessly cheerful. With the morning came clarity. He knew what he had to do. Find Nicole and demand an explanation. She owed him that at least.
Since he hadn’t had time to stock the place with groceries, he decided he’d head downtown and have breakfast at the café. A couple of cups of coffee and some fried eggs, biscuits and gravy, and bacon would do wonders to banish the lingering nausea from the night before.
Stepping outside, the humidity and heat made him smile. Another sign he was home, because the desert heat had been brutal and dry. This was Texas, familiar and welcome.
Downtown hadn’t changed a bit. He lucked out and found a parking space right in front of the café. Inside, he saw Trudy Blevins, self-dubbed nosiest woman in Anniversary, apparently interviewing customers for either her newspaper column or her radio segment. Huge, flamboyant earrings swung from her ears and she chewed gum in between talking. Though he kept his back to her, he found the sight of her oddly reassuring. Proof that some things at least, never changed.
Taking a seat at the countertop, he grinned when the owner Jed Rodgers caught sight of him and did a double take. Jed made a beeline for him, hand outstretched. “Let me shake your hand,” the older man exclaimed. When Kyle went to shake, instead Jed pulled him close for a quick guy hug. “I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life. Everyone thought you were dead.”
Kyle ducked his head. “Clearly, I’m not. What I am, though, is starving.”
“Tell me what you want.” Jed got out his order pad. “Whatever you get, it’s on the house.”
Touched, Kyle thanked him and placed his order. Jed carried it to the kitchen, returning with a mug and the pot of coffee. “Here you go. You still drink it black, right?”
“Yep.” The first sip tasted like it always had, strong and rich. “I don’t know what kind of coffee you brew, but it’s the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”
Jed acknowledged the compliment with a shrug. People had been after him for years to reveal his coffee’s secret. He claimed it was a secret he planned to carry to the grave.
Since the breakfast crowd had begun to thin out, the two waitresses were able to handle the rest of the customers. Jed leaned on the counter, settling in for a chat.
“Big news going on here in our small town,” Jed drawled. “The jaws are a’ waggin’, that’s for sure.”
“Because I’m back?” Kyle hoped not. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was Trudy Blevins shoving her microphone in his face and rattling off questions.
“Well, that too. But no, recently we had our first murder.”
Since Jed didn’t sound grief stricken, Kyle could only assume the deceased had been someone Jed didn’t know well.
The cook rang the little bell to signify an order was up. Jed grabbed it and slid the plate in front of Kyle. Two fried eggs, sunny-side up. Biscuits with creamy sausage gravy. Crispy bacon and a side of grits.
“I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven—for real this time,” Kyle said. “We couldn’t get food like this in Afghanistan. Not in the hospital either.”
“Dig in, son.” Jed wiped his hands on his apron and smiled, before refilling Kyle’s coffee cup. “I’m going to go talk to Trudy and see if she’s heard anything new about the murder.”
Mouth full, Kyle waved him away. Gossip had always been a hot commodity in this town, though he figured most small communities were probably like that. As for him, he couldn’t have cared less. Once he’d inhaled his breakfast and sucked down some caffeine, he planned to figure out where exactly Nicole lived and pay her a visit. She at least owed him some sort of explanation.
Luckily, everyone left him alone to eat in peace. But the second he pushed his empty plate away, Trudy Blevins hustled over.
“Kyle Benning,” she trilled. “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”
Taking a deep breath, Kyle turned to face her. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s great to finally be back in town.”
“I imagine it is.” She wore a cat-about-to-eat-a-canary look. “And I’m guessing you probably heard about the murder.”
He shrugged. “Jed mentioned something about a murder. I’m sorry to hear about that. Anniversary has always been such a safe place.”
“Oh, it still is, I’m thinking.” Expression turning sly, she climbed up on the stool next to him as if she meant to stay awhile. Which he supposed was fine, because he certainly did not. He signaled Jed for the check, but Jed waved him away, mouthing again that the meal was on the house.
“Word is, the killer was someone who knew the dead man all too well,” Trudy continued.
Kyle gave a polite nod, keeping his expression disinterested. He made a show out of checking his watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to run,” he began.
She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’d think this story would be a particular interest to you. In fact, I’d like to report on your reaction.”
“Trudy?” He stared pointedly at her hand on his forearm, making it clear her touch wasn’t exactly welcome. She finally huffed and removed it.
“Trudy,” he repeated. “Look, I just got back in town yesterday. While I’m sure I’ve got a lot to catch up on, I’ve got too much to do right now. I’ll catch up with everything on the local news later tonight.”
Was that a flash of disappointment in her gaze? But no, she shook her head, clearly undeterred. “Since this case involves your former girlfriend Nicole Shelton, I’d think you might find it a tiny bit interesting.”
Nicole? A shudder of foreboding ripped through him, though he worked hard to prevent that from showing. “Are you telling me Nicole was murdered?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Trudy cocked her head, sending those earrings of hers swinging. “Nicole isn’t dead, sugar. Nicole’s husband, Bill, is. And the talk around town is that she might be the one who killed him. The sheriff has already told her not to leave town. Can you imagine?”
Stunned, he could only stare, unable to think coherently enough to hide his shock. “I...”
Her malicious smile widened. She pulled out her microphone, fumbling with her recorder before looking up at him again. “On the record, would you tell the good folks of Anniversary how you feel about this news?”
How he felt? He’d been through hell and back, only to return home to find the rug had not only been ripped out from under him, but set on fire as well. He used every bit of his ranger training to mentally pull himself up by his bootstraps. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and looked Trudy right in the eyes. “I’ve been gone a year, ma’am. And I haven’t talked to Nicole at all, not in all that time. While I’m not sure why folks believe she’d be capable of murder, I can tell you this. The Nicole Shelton I know wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hell, the woman even carried spiders outside if they got in the house. I can’t imagine her killing another human being. Not at all.”
Undeterred, Trudy licked her bright red lips. “Well, it appears you are wrong. But time will tell. The truth will come out in the end.”
Kyle stood, inclining his head politely. “I’m sure it will, ma’am.” With a quick wave at Jed, he strode off toward the door.
Outside, he squinted in the bright sunlight. He walked to his pickup, unlocked the doors and climbed up inside. Ignition on, AC up full blast. He had no idea where to go, just that he needed to drive.
He cruised slowly down Main Street, turning at the bank, and continued on until he’d reached a residential area. The houses here were large and well maintained, several sporting the brass historical plaques that marked them as restored homes of significance. Pulling over to the curb, he parked. Using his phone, he navigated to the county tax assessor website and put in the name Bill Mabry.
Bingo. Interesting, that the house title was only in Bill’s name. Nicole wasn’t included. And the date of purchase was a little more than one year ago, which meant he’d bought the house before he and Nicole were married.
He put the address into his GPS and punched Drive. To his surprise, the house was only a couple of blocks away. Driving slow, he went past, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might leap out of his chest. At the end of the street, he made a U-turn. This time, he parked in front of the house across the street. The two-story, rock-and-wood structure looked sleek and modern, yet somehow fit in perfectly with the restored historical homes surrounding it. The perfectly manicured lawn, numerous trees and flower gardens were all well-tended, like something out of a glossy magazine. No doubt the inside of the luxurious home was filled with expensive furniture and matching colors.
He tried to picture Nicole living there, her adoring husband at her side, her baby in her arms, and realized she’d fit right in. In fact, this kind of lifestyle was exactly what he’d wanted for her, for them, even if he’d imagined it would take a while to get to that place. While he’d saved every dollar he could from his military service, he’d planned for the two of them to start out like most young couples did, with a much more modest home.
Looks like she’d managed to skip right over all that by marrying Bill Mabry, the guy her parents had been trying to set her up with all through high school. She’d claimed to find him repulsive, describing several awkward Sunday night suppers when her parents had invited him over.
Kyle guessed she’d lied. Either that, or her parents and Bill Mabry had finally worn her down, probably while she was mourning over Kyle’s supposed death. At least he hoped she’d grieved for him. He studied the house again and came to a decision. There was only one way to find out.
He hustled up the sidewalk, moving fast so he wouldn’t reconsider and change his mind. He rang the bell, listening as sonorous chimes reverberated inside the house, followed immediately by a baby’s loud wailing.
No one came to the door. Instead, he imagined Nicole went to comfort her infant. Heart still racing, he waited, telling himself he’d count to thirty before ringing the doorbell again.
At twenty-nine, the door opened, just a tiny crack. “Go away.” Nicole’s voice, making his stomach do a somersault. “I’ve already told you people I’m not talking to any reporters. My husband just died. Leave me alone.”
“Nicole.” He spoke her name, knowing she’d recognize his voice. “It’s me. Kyle.”
Silence. “Kyle’s dead. What kind of monster would play a cruel trick like this?” she cried out, before slamming the door shut in his face.
Still he waited, trying for patience. Even though she’d married another man immediately after his supposed death, he battled an overwhelming urge to kick the door in and yank her into his arms. Every fiber of his being, every fighting instinct to live, had been about her. Getting back to her. Holding her.
He blinked, hard, his eyes stinging. The one thing he’d never expected had been this betrayal.
When she didn’t come back, he knocked. Not a quiet brush of his knuckles against the polished wood. No, this determined rapping was to let her know he wasn’t going away until she faced him. She at least owed him that.
Finally, she opened the door, all the way this time. “Kyle?” she croaked. She’d gone pale as a ghost and swayed on her feet, as if on the verge of fainting. At least she wasn’t holding her baby. Even though she’d borne another man’s child, he didn’t want her to inadvertently injure an infant.
“In the flesh.” He jerked his head in a nod, emotion warring inside him. He was furious with her, as he had every right to be, but his soul rejoiced at just the sight of her. Still tiny, slender and petite, she wore her long brown hair the same way she always had. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in red, as if she’d been crying—of course she had, her husband had just died—and even now tears made the ends of her long dark lashes glisten.
Despite all this, she was still just as beautiful. This pissed him off more than it should have. Damned if he could stomach seeing her while she mourned another man. “Did you cry for me too?” he asked—no, demanded. “Tell me you did, because it didn’t appear to be all that long after my supposed death when you went and got yourself married off to him.”
“Kyle,” she repeated, her voice breaking. All at once, he realized she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. He moved to help her without conscious thought.
At the last minute, when he would have reached her and hauled her up close against him, she stepped aside, shaking her head.
“This can’t be real,” she muttered. Just then, her baby began crying again and she hurried away, into the house. Though she hadn’t invited Kyle to follow, she hadn’t told him to leave either, so he went after her.
She picked up her son and put him to her shoulder, rubbing his back in soft circles and making soothing sounds. The baby’s crying tapered off, replaced with quiet hiccupping sounds. She glanced at Kyle, her child held protectively against her, and made a strangled sound.
“You’re still here? This isn’t just some kind of dream?”
Before he could reply, she continued talking, almost as if to herself rather than him. “Kyle, I’m not sure how this is possible, but you’re dead. And now you’re not.”
“Sit down,” he told her, his tone gentler than she deserved. Once she had, he told her what had happened to him, all of it. Beginning with the IED exploding, the fact that he’d been holding his friend’s dog tag, and the months he’d spent in a coma in a hospital. Then the rehab, learning to walk again and, finally, coming home to learn the woman he’d expected to marry had become the wife of another man. He didn’t tell her the rest of it, about the PTSD he battled, because it was no longer any of her concern.
She listened quietly, tears slipping down her cheeks to be wiped away with the back of her hand. Her baby rooted around her chest, clearly seeking her breast, and finally she grabbed a baby blanket and arranged it so the infant could nurse. She looked the picture of maternal perfection, gazing lovingly at her child while her body gave sustenance.
It was almost too much for Kyle. But he’d already been to hell and clawed his way back. He’d come here for explanations and damned if he’d go without getting them.
When the baby finally finished, she rearranged her clothing and the blanket and put his tiny body against her shoulder so he could burp. Kyle continued to watch her, willing himself to feel nothing, though he failed miserably. A tempest of emotion raged inside him, ranging from a kind of joyous relief that they once again occupied the same space, to disappointment, hurt and gut-wrenching jealously. This should have been his wife, his baby. All the plans he’d made, all the hard work and sweat and tears had been supposed to culminate in this.
Instead, he’d been given the middle finger.
They both sat silently for a moment. He took a deep breath and met her gaze, steeling himself against the attraction—still—he felt when he looked at her.
“Your turn,” he said, his tone harsh. “I get that your husband was murdered, but you at least owe me that.”
She nodded once. “My turn,” she repeated, her voice soft. “And I’ll explain. But first, give me a moment to digest the fact that you’re really alive, and here.”
He’d bet it was a shock. She must have thought since he’d been killed, he’d never find out how quickly she’d managed to move on with her life. As if he—and what they’d had—had never mattered. A blip on her lifeline, here one day, gone the next. While for him, she’d been everything. His entire world.
With a nod, he gave her the time she requested. While she burped her baby, he prowled around the room, looking for some clue about what her life with her husband had been like. There were no photos of the two of them, none of the baby either. Just impersonal modern art prints of a type that a year ago he would have sworn didn’t match her personality. She’d loved bold, vibrant colors. Not this watered-down neutral decoration surrounding her now.
In fact, the entire living room had an impersonal feel. It looked like they’d hired a decorator and let her have free rein, without any personal input. The blues and beige was tasteful; the faint touch of yellow put some color in just the right places, but none of it gave him any insight into the people who lived here.
Part of him was glad. Nicole and he had spent countless nights talking about what their first house would be like. She’d been carefree when with him, and had spoken of the bright, rich colors she’d use. She wanted, she’d said, each room to be a tapestry with a story to tell.
If this room told a story, it would be as boring as hell.
Finally, he’d had enough of the silence and turned. Her baby had finished burping and she had him in her arms, moving with a rocking motion as if to put him to sleep.
“Well?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“Let me put him down,” she said. “He’ll want to sleep now that he’s been fed and changed.”
Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, heading toward a small room off a hallway downstairs. When she returned a moment later without the infant, she swallowed. “I keep a bassinette in the office downstairs so I’m not having to run him up to the nursery during the day. At night, since all the bedrooms are upstairs, he sleeps in his crib. Which is okay, since I have a baby monitor and am able to keep tabs on him.”
Apparently realizing she was babbling, she ceased talking and sighed. Walking toward him, she stopped a few feet away and stared up at him, her expression full of wonder. “Do you have any idea what I would have given to have known you were alive? I grieved your loss deeply.”
Anger blossomed inside him. Despite that, he still had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “When, Nicole?” he demanded. “Before you got married? How long did you wait after getting word I’d been killed in action? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem very long at all.”
Her mouth worked. Again, tears came. This time, she covered her face with her hands and wept, her shoulders shaking. The old Kyle would have rushed to console her, but she no longer belonged to him. Instead he took a step back.
He shouldn’t have come here, he realized. Nothing would change. Hearing her mouth whatever explanation she came up with would do little to assuage the rawness of his pain, the aching sense of betrayal by the one person he’d believed would always have his back. Still, he couldn’t seem to get his feet to moving, so he stood and watched her cry.
“I’m waiting,” he finally said, the rasp in his voice in keeping with his frustration. “How long, Nicole?”
“It’s not what you think,” she began, her voice thick and trembling. “I really had no choice.”
“Bull.” He snarled the word. “Spare me the crap. I joined the army for us. So we could have a future. Every waking moment, every mission, every return to base, my first thought was of you. If the situation had been reversed, do you honestly think I’d have gotten married a month after you’d died? Do you?” He didn’t shout the words, partly because he didn’t want to disturb her baby, but also because volume wouldn’t make any difference. She had to know he was right, yet the sorrowful look in her eyes didn’t contain remorse or guilt. Just pain. Something he’d grown intimately familiar with.
“I was pregnant, Kyle,” she said, her voice shaking. “My parents were going to throw me out onto the street. I had to do something to protect my baby, so I took the coward’s way out and married Bill as they insisted.”
He hadn’t thought she could hurt him any worse, but somehow she had. “You’re telling me you slept with Bill Mabry after you learned I’d been killed in action?”
If he expected her to hang her head, he was wrong. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked him square in the eyes. “No. I’m telling you I was pregnant with your child when you left me the last time. You’d gone on a mission, so I couldn’t tell you. I’d planned to, the next time you called. Instead, I received word you’d been killed by an IED. Jacob is your son.”
Chapter 3 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
Nicole waited breathlessly for his reaction. If anything, his frown deepened.
“I don’t believe you,” he snarled. “I never would have guessed you’d become such an opportunistic little—”
“Stop.” She cut him off before he could call her whatever name he’d been about to use. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from doubling over with pain. “I can’t deal with this right now. You need to go.”
“Gladly.” He strode to the front without a backward look. She braced herself for the noise when he slammed it, aware it would probably wake the baby, but he surprised her by closing the door with a quiet click.
Heaven help her, after inhaling so quickly it felt like a hiccup, she found herself at the front window, hand to her aching chest, watching until he drove away. The pain was so great it felt like her heart had truly shattered. She felt almost the same as she had the day she’d learned he’d been killed. Almost.
Once he’d gone, she sank down on the couch and allowed herself to break down. She hadn’t cried over Bill’s passing, or over the way his horrible parents treated her. But she cried over this. The man she’d always loved was still alive. Joy and relief at knowing that Kyle Benning still walked the earth warred with sorrow and regret. Clearly, she’d managed to kill whatever he’d once felt for her. And the fact that he could honestly think she’d lie to him about something as vitally important as his own child told her how low she’d sunk in his estimation.
After crying herself out, a steadfast calm came over her. Her life might have become a crapfest, but she still had Jacob. She went into the office and watched him while he slept, letting the all-encompassing love she felt for him fill her heart, rather than pain or worry or regret.
When the doorbell chimed again an hour later, her heart skipped a beat. Now that he’d had time to think about it, had Kyle returned? Baby Jacob still slept, so she hurried to the door, her heart hammering.
Instead of Kyle, two uninformed sheriff’s deputies stood on her stoop. One of them handed her a paper.
“We have a warrant to search your premises, ma’am,” he said. “Please step aside.”
Numb, she did as he asked. She’d only thought this day couldn’t get any worse. Clearly, she’d been wrong.
Though she stood protectively over her son while one of the men searched the office, Jacob woke when the deputy banged a file cabinet drawer shut. Nicole picked him up and soothed him, realizing he needed a diaper change, which she attended to while trying to ignore the sometimes alarming sounds the deputies were making.
They took Bill’s computer and her laptop, promising they’d return it soon. They also took Bill’s expensive bourbon, the used coffee pod still in the machine and several files.
With Jacob in her arms, she followed them from room to room, hating the way this search made her feel violated. They didn’t speak and she didn’t either, except for admonishing them to be careful when it seemed like they were growing careless with some of her perfume bottles.
They took Bill’s cologne and aftershave. It finally dawned on her that they were looking for whatever poison had killed him. Which meant she’d become more than a person of interest—she’d apparently moved right into the position of primary suspect.
As they prepared to leave, the taller of the two turned to face her. “We searched his office at Mabry Trucking too,” he said. Like that would make her feel better. All she could do was nod.
After they’d finally gone, she went about the business of straightening her house, finding comfort in the busywork.
Then she bathed Jacob. After drying him off and putting him in a fresh diaper and onesie, she breathed deeply, loving the clean, baby powder scent of him. Her breasts tingled, reminding her it was nearly feeding time. Jacob latched on, suckling with gusto. Filled with love and finally, a little peace, she watched him drink his fill. After burping him, she placed him in his bassinette to rest and set about making herself something for dinner.
Bill had been a meat-and-potatoes sort of guy and she’d marinated a couple of ribeye steaks. But the thought of eating that made her stomach turn, so she fixed herself a salad with tuna on top instead.
As she carried her empty bowl to the sink, the house phone rang. Caller ID showed her in-laws. After the awful conversation with Theresa before, she decided not to answer. Bill’s mother could leave a voice mail. Nicole didn’t need any more grief after this long and horrible day.
The answering machine picked up. “Nicole? It’s Theresa. We just wanted to let you know that we intend on filing for custody of our grandson.” And she ended the call.
Nicole had to remind herself to breathe. Her disbelief turned to anger. Who did these people think they were? How could they possibly believe any judge would give them custody of her son? She’d done nothing wrong. And she was a wonderful, devoted mother. On what basis did they think they could rip her baby away from her?
Then she realized the Mabrys must truly believe she’d murdered her husband. That would be the only scenario in which she could imagine a judge handing Jacob over to them. If she were convicted of murder and sent to prison, her son would need family to take care of him.
Except she hadn’t killed Bill and she wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Jacob. She’d fight to her dying breath to keep her boy by her side.
Failing that, there was one tiny fact Bill’s parents were unaware of. A simple DNA test would prove that Jacob wasn’t truly related to them. He carried none of their blood. Bill had known; it had been one of the conditions she’d insisted on when her parents got her to marry him. She wasn’t a liar and there’d been no way she’d try to pass Kyle’s child off as another man’s.
Now Bill’s parents—and the sheriff—clearly believed her capable of murder. Kyle was alive—and she’d rejoice in this knowledge once she could breathe again—and also considered her not only a cheat, but a liar. And she’d lived in Anniversary her entire life, so she knew soon the entire town would be talking and drawing up sides.
What a way to cap an already horrible day.
She truly didn’t know how much more she could take. At least the day was almost over. Soon, she could fall into her bed and escape into the land of dreams.
Right before darkness fell, she headed out front to get the mail from the mailbox. Bill’s credit card statement had arrived. He’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was never to open his mail, so she usually left these on the kitchen counter for him to open when he got home.
Now Bill was gone and she’d be cancelling all his credit cards. Until then, she’d need to pay all outstanding bills. She slit the envelope and pulled out the statement and blinked.
The total balance was quite a bit more than she’d expected. Nearly two thousand dollars. The list of charges made her stomach clench. Flowers from a florist, three times that month. A twelve-hundred-dollar charge at Guller’s Jewelry Store. Dinner at an expensive Italian restaurant, which mustn’t have been for business since he’d used his personal credit card.
And the final charge was the real kicker. Two hundred and thirty dollars in lingerie at Victoria’s Secret.
None of this had been for her. Bill hadn’t once brought her flowers or gifted her with jewelry or lingerie.
Which meant he had a mistress. Another woman. Which would explain all those nights when he hadn’t come home, claiming to have slept at the office.
A mistress. Rather than dismay or regret, all she felt was relief.
She needed to notify the sheriff. If they didn’t know about this woman, they needed to. Maybe they could get a search warrant for her home too.
* * *
All the way back to his rental house, Kyle muttered a running litany of curses. He’d been hurt and angry before. Now he was furious. How could it be possible that he’d never truly known Nicole at all?
When he passed the sign for the lake, he took a sharp left, catching the turn so fast for a moment he thought his wheels might leave the pavement. He drove to the park at the top of the bluff—once his and Nicole’s favorite spot, though he wouldn’t think of that night.
Out of the truck, he climbed down to the water’s edge, stripping off his clothes as he went. The hot Texas sun beat down on him unmercifully. Finally, clad only in his boxers, he jumped into the lake.
And swam. Clean, crisp strokes, the physical action of using his body to move helping to clear his head. Across the lake he went, all the way to the other shore, before turning around and heading back. He did this three times, until his chest and arms were screaming in protest.
When he finally climbed up on shore, his muscles quivering, he felt better. More like himself. As if he had a snowball’s chance in hell of being in control of his destiny.
Dressing, he climbed back up to his truck. He needed to get to the supermarket and stock up on provisions.
The H-E-B store looked unchanged. He parked and went inside, grabbing a cart. Though he hadn’t made a list, his little rental house was totally empty, so he’d need staples including cleaning supplies, as well as food.
As he perused the choices in paper towels, someone called his name.
He looked up, breaking into a grin. “Bret Atkinson. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
The two men shook hands. He and Bret had been buddies in high school. When Kyle went off after joining the army, Bret had stayed in town and gone to work at his father’s boot repair shop. Bret had married his high school sweetheart, Heather.
“I was pretty damn surprised yesterday when I heard you were in town,” Bret said. “Considering I went to your memorial service about a year ago.”
Once again, Kyle found himself explaining what had happened to him. He figured he might ought to consider printing up his story on paper and handing them out since his appearance clearly was a shock to everyone in town.
“Wow,” Bret marveled when he’d finished. “It’s a shame what’s happening with Nicole, isn’t it?”
“I heard about her husband getting murdered.” Kyle kept his tone noncommittal.
“Yeah, and she’s the prime suspect.”
Though Trudy had said something similar, this was his friend. Bret knew Nicole well. The two couples had spent a lot of time together.
Surely Bret didn’t truly believe Nicole could do such a thing. Kyle wasn’t sure how to react. He waited for Bret to laugh and say he’d been joking, but the expression on his old friend’s face was serious as dirt.
“Really?” Kyle finally asked. “Are you saying the guy had no other enemies?”
“That we know of. He was a deacon at his church, a well-respected community guy, and from what I hear, an easy boss to work for at the trucking company.”
Kyle nodded. “Were he and Nicole happy?” Inwardly, he winced. He hadn’t meant to ask that—the words had just slipped out.
“They appeared to be.” Bret shrugged. “But you know how that can be. Lots of folks just put on a happy face. No one really knows what goes on in private.”
Another stab straight to the gut. Yet Kyle managed an impersonal smile. “How’s Heather?”
Bret’s smile slipped a notch. “We’ve got just about one more month. She’s as big as a house, but hanging in there. She just finished decorating the nursery and says she’s ready. Heck, we both are.”
Then, apparently registering the stunned look on Kyle’s face, he shook his head and grinned. “Sorry. I forgot you didn’t know. Heather’s pregnant. It’s our first. She’s had a few issues, but nothing too serious. We’re hoping the last month will go quickly.”
“Aww, man. Congratulations!” Kyle pounded his friend on the back. “Are you having a boy or a girl?”
“Thanks.” Bret shook his head. “Neither one of us wanted to know the sex of our baby, so I have no idea. All I want is healthy and strong. Heather’s wavered a bit, especially when she started decorating, but she stuck with the plan.”
“Wow,” Kyle marveled. “This is just amazing. You and Heather will make great parents.” A shadow crossed his heart as he thought of Nicole, who’d become a single parent now.
Something must have shown on his face.
“You’ll get there too, Kyle,” Bret said. “Look at all you’ve been through. Yet here you are, back home and ready to start over.”
They talked a few minutes more, exchanged phone numbers and then Bret went on his way. While Kyle continued his shopping, he thought of his old friend’s words. Starting over. In a way, he’d come here to pick up where he and Nicole had left off, yet when he thought of the bright and shining future he’d envisioned for them, he wanted to punch something.
On the way to the checkout line, he ran into Bret again. Bret’s cart was nearly as full as his own. They shared a quick chuckle over that.
“Hey, if you get a chance, stop by for dinner sometime,” Bret invited. “Maybe we can invite Nicole too, so you two can catch up. She’s probably feeling pretty down, being a new widow and all. Though she has that baby of hers to keep her busy. I know Heather’s been dying for some baby time.”
Kyle shook his head. “I stopped by and saw her earlier today.”
“Oh, you did?” Bret eyed him. “Did you get a chance to see Jacob? At first, his eyes were hazel like Nicole’s, but the last time we saw him, they were changing to green. The exact same color as yours.” He laughed. “Heather and I always said he could have been your son.”
With a wave, Bret walked off, getting into one of the three open checkout lines.
Kyle did the same, deliberately choosing the one farthest from his friend. Nicole had said she’d gotten pregnant before he’d headed back to duty overseas. In his bitterness and hurt at her betrayal, he hadn’t believed her. A wave of shame swept through him, followed immediately by anger.
Was it possible he really did have a son? A simple DNA test would prove it.
* * *
Sheriff Cantrell took a look at the Visa bill and yawned. “How do you know these charges were for a mistress?” he asked.
Nicole stared at him in disbelief. “Um, maybe because I never saw any of the things listed.”
He looked again, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps he bought them for his mother. You know he and Theresa had a close relationship.”
“Victoria’s Secret lingerie?” She tapped the edge of his desk. “Do you really think they had that close of a relationship? That’s not only creepy, it’s sick.”
“Please, Ms. Mabry.” His tone went sharp. “This is your deceased husband we’re talking about. Please show some respect.”
She had to swallow twice to keep from telling him what she thought about his attitude. “Sheriff,” she began, keeping her voice level and reasonable. “My husband was murdered. His credit card bill indicates he bought expensive gifts for another woman. He took her to dinner. I haven’t checked his other months’ bills, but I have a feeling there will be more of the same. My husband had a mistress. There was another woman involved in his life. Since you’re investigating his murder, I’d think you’d want to check this out.”
Glumly, he once again considered the bill. “This opens up a whole can of worms.”
Oh for the love of... Deep breaths. “Do you or do you not want to find out who killed my husband?” she asked, refusing this time to curb her impatience.
“Of course I do,” he answered. “That’s my job. But I can’t help but feel you’re instigating this in order to deflect attention from you. Especially since you’re a person of interest.”
Shaking her head, she stood. “Sheriff, you’ve known me your entire life, not just since you were a deputy patrolman. I understand the pressure you’re under from the Mabrys wanting a quick resolution to this investigation. But you’re also our sheriff. You took an oath to uphold the law. I can’t help but feel you’re trying to railroad me so you can obtain an arrest. But I can assure you, I did not kill my husband. And I’d really like to know who did. So please, make a copy of the bill and look into it. Can you at least promise me you’ll do that?”
His mottled complexion revealed how little he cared for her disparaging comments. But she was right and he knew it. Moving with exaggerated slowness, he photocopied the statement and handed the original back to her. She tucked it into her diaper bag and reached down to pick up little Jacob in his infant carrier.
“Wait,” Sheriff Cantrell said, motioning her to sit back down. “I understand Kyle Benning is back in town.”
Holding his gaze, she waited to hear what this had to do with her.
“I was told he paid you a visit yesterday,” he continued. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”
“Kyle and I are old friends,” she replied. “Like everyone else in town, I was told he died in Afghanistan. He wanted to let me know that wasn’t actually the case.”
How stiff she sounded. Still, her meeting with Kyle was none of his business.
“I know you two were more than just friends.” The faint mockery in his voice infuriated her, though she pushed it back down inside. “And now that poor Bill is out of the way, maybe now the two of you can pick up where you left off.”
This was too much, even for her. “That’s not only insulting,” she said. “But hurtful. We haven’t even buried Bill yet.”
Silence. Then, very slowly, Sheriff Cantrell nodded. “My apologies. Sometimes this job makes me think the worst of people.”
Except for Bill. You didn’t want to even consider he might have had a mistress. Of course, she didn’t voice this thought out loud.
She pushed to her feet again. “Please let me know what you find out,” she said, gesturing toward the credit card statement. Jacob’s carrier once again in hand, she turned to go.
The sheriff followed her to the door. “I’ll give you a call if I learn anything,” he said. His detached, professional tone had returned. Nicole wished she had confidence in him actually doing his job and checking the new lead out.
She didn’t understand his sudden loyalty to Bill’s reputation. Though they’d attended the same superstrict church, as far as she knew Bill and Sheriff Cantrell hadn’t been particularly good friends. Though of course, clearly she knew next to nothing about what her husband had done when he wasn’t at home with her. Anything and everything was possible. For all she knew, the two men could have gone bar hopping together. At this point, nothing would surprise her. The one thing marriage to Bill Mabry had taught her was that nothing was as it seemed on the surface.
Once she had Jacob buckled into his rear-facing infant seat, she started Bill’s car and drove away. It had been a long time since she’d driven, though her driver’s license hadn’t expired. Bill never let her drive his BMW and after one of the deputies had delivered it to her along with the keys, she’d felt extremely nervous sitting behind the steering wheel. Now she supposed she’d get used to it eventually.
She drove to Briggses’ Funeral Home. Despite not hearing anything from the Mabrys, she needed to see about making arrangements. Of course, Pastor Theodore would handle the funeral. That was a given. Her parents and Bill’s parents were founding members of The Church on Top of the Hill. Bill had been a deacon there. Of necessity, Nicole had attended as a child and then again once she and Bill had married. After the funeral, she never intended to go there again.
Since there were other things to attend to, such as choosing a casket and a burial plot, she asked to speak to the owner, Joe Wayne Briggs. His son Junior came out to greet her instead.
When she told him the reason for her visit, he led her to a tastefully decorated small office. She couldn’t help but notice the box of tissues placed conspicuously close to her chair.
“Now what can I help you with today?” Junior asked, his attempt to mimic his father’s sonorous tone coming off surprisingly well.
“I’m sure you know my husband, Bill Mabry, recently passed away. I need to see about selecting his casket and purchasing a burial plot.”
Confusion crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Dan and Theresa Mabry have already made all the selections. He’s going to be interred in the Mabry family plot.”
Made all the selections. Without her. One more slap in the face. “I’m his widow,” she began. “I should have been consulted.”
Then, as he stumbled all over himself trying to explain what had happened, she realized this was okay. All of it. Bill’s parents had adored their only son and mourned him, definitely far more than she did. If they knew his true character, their love for him superceded all that.
She, on the other hand, had only been married to him for one year. He’d bullied and abused her, regarded her as a possession rather than an equal partner, and in her heart of hearts, she felt relief rather than sorrow.
“Thank you very much,” she said, interrupting him. “I assume they’ve also handled the obituary?”
At his nod, she exhaled. “Do you happen to have anything printed out yet?”
“We do. We do. Let me get you a copy.” He scurried out of the room. When he returned, he handed her a sealed envelope. “Everything is in here. The casket, the burial plot number and a map to the area, and information on the service.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. “I do apologize for not realizing we should have contacted you. I assumed you were too grief stricken to attend any planning sessions.”
She let that one go. Thanking him, she once again picked up Jacob’s carrier and turned to go.
When she lifted him up to buckle the carrier into the backseat, she realized his little face was bright red. His eyes were closed, and she did a panicked test, wetting her finger and placing it under his nose to make sure he was still breathing.
The instant she did this, he began flailing his arms about and let out a loud cry. Once he got started, his crying increased in volume and intensity, letting her know something was very wrong.
She took him out of the carrier and checked his diaper, finding it dry. No amount of rocking or singing to him made any difference. When a bubbling rash of red welts appeared on his face and arms, she knew something was drastically wrong. Buckling him back into the carrier while he still wailed, she jumped into the car and drove straight for the hospital emergency room.
Chapter 4 (#uc48784e9-f4db-53a2-b76f-0b12750c392a)
Kyle finished unpacking his groceries, then stood back and eyed his full refrigerator. He knew he should feel some sort of satisfaction at having successfully begun his journey toward living on his own out of the military, but the best he could summon up was exhaustion.
His doorbell rang. A uniformed deputy stood outside. What now?
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“We have a warrant to search the premises,” the deputy said, handing him an envelope. “Please step aside.”
Stunned, Kyle didn’t move. “Search for what? Don’t I have the right to know what it is I’ve supposedly done?”
“It’s all in the warrant, sir.” Motioning to another uniformed officer, the deputy let his hand hover near his holstered weapon. “Now, please. Step aside.”
With a shrug, Kyle did as he was told.
While the two officers searched his small rental home—which wouldn’t take them very long since Kyle had very few belongings and only the basic furniture that had come with the house—Kyle read the search warrant. The reason given, and approved by a judge, was listed as Bill Mabry’s murder.
Which made absolutely zero sense. Kyle hadn’t even been in town when the guy had died.
Aware that arguing with the deputies wouldn’t change anything, he wandered out to his small back deck to wait until they’d finished their search. He only hoped they didn’t trash the place too badly.
“Sir?” The urgent tone of the deputy’s voice had him jumping to his feet. “Could you come in here please?”
Kyle hurried inside. The two deputies stood near his gun safe, one of the few purchases he’d made before driving back to Anniversary.
“Could you open this for us?”
He wondered if he could refuse. Probably not. A search warrant would definitely include firearms. Heaving a sigh, he dialed in the combination for the lock and opened it. He let the door swing wide and took a step back. “Please handle with care,” he said. “Those pieces were chosen carefully and I can’t afford to replace them.”
To his eternal relief, they treated his small gun collection with respect. All of his weapons were clean and well taken care of, something he’d learned to do while in the army.
“Great condition,” one of the deputies commented.
“And none of them have recently been fired,” said the other.
Kyle simply waited until they’d finished. When they moved away from the safe, he closed the door and locked it. “Anything else you need?” he asked.
“No. I think we’re done.” The two men left.
Once he’d watched them drive away, he inspected his living space. They’d been thorough, he saw, straightening a sofa cushion. But not unnecessarily messy. In fact, if he weren’t so meticulous about his home, he wouldn’t have even known it had been searched.
He had to wonder why anyone could possibly believe he’d been involved in the murder of a man he hadn’t even known. Simply because he’d visited Nicole? Did that mean she was under some sort of surveillance? Or were they probing her past for any kind of connection that might have compelled her to kill her husband?
Her husband. The words stuck in his craw. It was always supposed to be the two of them—Kyle and Nicole. Anyone who’d known them prior to one year ago would understand this. And might suspect that underneath the thin veneer of civility, strong emotions swirled and seethed.
It wouldn’t be too great of a leap of faith to wonder if he had returned home to Anniversary to find his woman married to another man, whom he’d killed in a fit of jealously. Kyle supposed he ought to thank his lucky stars that the timing was all wrong. The day Bill Mabry had died, Kyle had been in Mississippi. He had motel receipts to prove it. And Nicole had still believed him to be dead.
The sheriff had his deputies barking up the wrong tree.
His cell phone rang. “Kyle, it’s Bret. I’m at the hospital ER with Heather. She’s fine—it was false labor so we’re heading back home. I thought you might want to know I saw Nicole come in with her baby.” He paused. “If I’m bothering you, I’m sorry. I don’t know how things are between the two of you. But from what I can tell, Nicole is all alone. If you’re truly friends, I think she could use your help. Especially if something happens to the baby.”
The baby. Possibly his son. Though his gut clenched, Kyle forced himself to breathe deeply and calmly. “What happened? Was there some sort of an accident?”
“No idea. But judging from the way they rushed her and little Jacob into the back, he’s in bad shape.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” Kyle said, and ended the call. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure why exactly Bret had decided to call him, but figured his old friend would guess Kyle still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about Nicole.
And the baby. Who might or might not really be his son.
Snatching up his car keys, Kyle headed to the hospital. He didn’t bother analyzing why. He just knew he had to go. Whether or not Nicole wanted him there.
* * *
By the time Nicole had pulled up in front of the emergency room, Jacob had begun wheezing, as if he couldn’t suck in air.
Forcing down the panic, she’d managed to unbuckle him from his infant carrier, snatch him up and run into the ER, shouting for help. The triage nurse had taken one look at Jacob and paged for help.
She’d hustled Nicole through the double doors into the actual ER and a nurse came running. Nicole had handed over her precious baby and the nurse hustled him into a room, Nicole right on her heels.
Now someone came and asked for her insurance card, which she handed over. The doctor appeared, helping the nurse get Jacob’s clothing off, including his diaper. “Nurse,” the doctor ordered. “Use Broselow Tape to quickly get his weight and dose out epi based on that.”
As the nurse hurriedly complied, Jacob wheezed, his eyes huge, his face red with welts. He alternated between trying to breathe and attempting to cry. Frantic to help him any way she could, she watched the doctor as he accepted the syringe and injected it into Jacob’s thigh. “It’s epinephrine,” he told Nicole. “The nurse will start him on an IV with Benadryl and steroids.”
Terrified, Nicole nodded. While the nurse bustled around, carefully inserting an IV in Jacob’s wrist, the doctor turned his attention back to the infant, who squirmed and still appeared to be having a hard time breathing. His struggle broke Nicole’s heart. She realized she’d never truly known abject terror until this moment.
“Help him, please,” she implored the doctor.
“We’re doing everything we can,” he responded. “Look. He’s breathing better. And those hives will subside, too.”
Relieved, she clutched the side of the hospital bed to keep her knees from giving out.
“It’s already working, ma’am,” the nurse said, her tone soothing. “Look at him. We’ll have him back to normal soon.”
“Thank goodness,” Nicole said, swaying with relief.
“Was he bitten by something?” the doctor asked Nicole, his voice curt, all of his focus still on Jacob. “Or did you give him something different—formula or juice? This is definitely an allergic reaction.”
“There’s been no change in his diet. As for a bite, I don’t know,” she answered. “One minute, he cried out, then the hives appeared.”
“Sounds like a bee sting,” the doctor said. “Let me see if I can find the stinger.” He began a thorough search of Jacob’s skin, which was still covered in welts.
Careful to keep out of both the doctor’s and the nurse’s way, Nicole moved as close as she could to her baby. To her immense relief, Jacob’s wheezing disappeared. Once he could breathe again, he began crying, a confused and hurt wail that tore at her heart. She ached to gather him up and hold him close to her, but the ER doctor was busy inspecting him, searching for a sting or bite mark.
While he did this, the nurse finished hooking Jacob up to the machines. Gradually, his wailing turned into sniffles, and then little snuffling sounds. He latched his little hand on to her finger, holding on tightly. Chest tight with love, she gazed at her baby boy, aware she’d never survive losing him.
“Here it is,” the doctor pronounced, glancing up at her and adjusting his glasses with one finger. “This looks like either a wasp or a bee sting. I’ve removed the stinger. The meds are working and I think he’s going to be just fine.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” Nicole said. She wanted to hug the man. And the nurse too. “Can I take him home now?”
“Not yet. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him for several hours.”
Puzzled, she frowned. “Why?”
“We need to monitor his heart due to the epinephrine. We also need to make sure he doesn’t have a rebound reaction once the epi wears off. Then, if all looks good, you can both go home.”
Grateful, she nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” The doctor wrote something in the chart, handed it to the nurse and left the room.
“You can hold him now,” the nurse told her. “Just be careful of the IV and the other wires. Press the call button if you need anything. We’ll be checking on you periodically.”
Once the nurse had gone, Nicole carefully reached for Jacob. As soon as she had him in her arms, she felt the last bit of tension leave his tiny body. She climbed up to sit on his hospital bed, careful of all the apparatus, and held him close. Singing soft, she rocked him to sleep.
When the door swung open again about twenty minutes later, she looked up with a smile, assuming either the nurse or doctor had returned. Instead, Kyle stood framed in the doorway, his gaze locking on hers.
She froze, not sure what to think or say. He came into the room, closed the door carefully and quietly behind him.
“Is he all right?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
Slowly, she nodded. “I think so. Right now, they want us to stay so they can monitor him.”
“What happened?”
Instead of answering his question, she frowned at him. “Why are you here?”
“One of my friends happened to see you come in and called me.” He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “I came by because...” He paused. “I don’t know why I’m here. I thought maybe you could use a friend right now.”
Touched despite herself, she blinked back tears. Which infuriated her. She would not cry in front of him. Never again. “Is that what you are?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Because you sure didn’t act like it earlier.”
In her arms, Jacob stirred. Instantly, she began making soothing sounds and rocking him again. Once he’d settled back into sleep, she looked up and met Kyle’s intense gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was shocked. And, I’ll admit, hurt. I’ve had some time to think about what you said.”
Unsure whether or not to be appeased, she finally nodded. “You can do a DNA test, you know. It’s a simple thing to prove or disprove, these days.”
“I know it is.” He paused, eyeing her sleeping son. “Tell me, does he have green eyes?”
“He’s only three months old,” she pointed out. “Babies are usually born with light-colored eyes. Around six to nine months old is when it’s easier to predict their final color. I’m hoping he gets your green eyes. But it’s too early to tell.”
“I see.” He leaned closer, resting his elbow on the edge of the bed near her knee. “Are you going to tell me what brought you here?”
She told him what had happened and what the doctor had said.
“He’s allergic to bee stings?” he repeated, his expression shocked.
“Yep. Like you were as a kid. I have to find out if I need to keep an EpiPen or something with me at all times.”
“I still am.” His voice husky, he shook his head. “Allergic to bees. Stuff like that never goes away.”
Chest tight, heart aching, she let her gaze roam over him. He had some new lines on his face, some wear and tear from whatever had happened to him in Afghanistan. He looked older, wearier, almost battle-hardened, yet he was still the tall broad-shouldered man with the bright green eyes she’d once loved.
How badly she wished they could go back in time and change some of the choices they’d made. She wouldn’t have let him join the army, for one. They should have taken a chance on the future with each other, even if they were too young and broke to know better. Getting pregnant with Jacob was something she’d never give up, not for anything in the world, but how much sweeter those nine months would have been with Kyle by her side.
Since she’d learned the hard way that dwelling on the past accomplished nothing, she forced those thoughts away and focused on the here and now.
“What happened to your husband?” he asked. “I’m sorry—I know that’s a personal question, but since sheriff’s deputies showed up at my house with a search warrant earlier, I figure I have a right to know.”
“A search warrant?” Aware her mouth had fallen open, she closed it, continuing to rock her son so he wouldn’t sense her rising agitation. “Why on earth would they think you had anything to do with Bill’s death?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you could tell me?”
Jacob stirred in her arms, making that little mewling sound he sometimes made to indicate his hunger. He opened his eyes and nuzzled her arm, seeking his meal. A rush of milk coming in made her breast tingle. She grabbed the baby blanket she’d wrapped around her son earlier and arranged it so she could nurse him.
Once little Jacob was happily drinking, she looked at Kyle and shook her head. “I’d be happy to tell you about it, but not here. Right now I just want Jacob to be released so I can take him home.”
Though he nodded, she could tell from the tightness in his jaw that he didn’t care for her response.
The nurse came in then, smiling. “Well, hello there,” she said. “I’m glad Daddy got to come in too. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that so far, everything is looking good. We should be able to discharge you soon.”
Daddy. The word brought a lump to her throat.
Nicole glanced at the clock on the wall. Ninety minutes had passed. “Thank you.”
Instead of leaving, the nurse went over to check on Jacob. Kyle pushed to his feet, moving out of the way and going to stand near the doorway. Nicole couldn’t help but notice how he filled up the room with his sheer size and masculine presence. Evidently the nurse noticed as well, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Nicole, as if to say Men!
“I hope it’s okay that I fed him,” Nicole said. “He was hungry.”
The nurse chuckled. “I can see that. Nothing has changed as far as his vitals, so let me go round up the doctor and get him to sign the form so you can all go home.”
* * *
Watching Nicole give the baby nourishment again stirred up a rush of complicated emotions. Kyle wasn’t certain of the etiquette—should he look away—but Nicole’s quiet competence and the fact that she kept herself covered put him at ease.
Though he tried unobtrusively to study Jacob, looking for some sort of resemblance, the infant looked like an infant. He supposed three months might be too young for the baby to start showing his parents’ features.
Right now, it didn’t really matter. He believed Nicole. After all, she had no real reason to lie to him. Especially since Jacob’s parentage could be easily proven with a simple DNA test.
Which meant Kyle had a son. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. Children with Nicole had always been part of his long-range plans, but her marriage to another man sent those completely out the window. She’d sworn to wait for him and damned if she hadn’t gotten married a month after he’d been erroneously declared dead. Kyle knew he could never get past that huge betrayal.
In addition, she’d apparently passed Jacob off as Bill Mabry’s child. This both infuriated him and saddened him. Clearly, he hadn’t known Nicole as well as he’d believed.
Getting Jacob released to leave took a lot longer than he’d thought. The way the nurse had talked, the doctor would sign some paper and that was that. He figured it’d take a couple of minutes, but when a half hour turned into forty-five, he could barely keep his frustration under control.
To make matters worse, someone dropped something metal out in the hall, and Kyle found himself on the floor, in full defensive cover position. While at Walter Reed hospital, they’d told him he’d need therapy to get help with his PTSD. He’d have to find someone local, once he got settled in.
Slowly, he got to his feet. Stone-faced, he hoped his expression hadn’t revealed his embarrassment, but all of Nicole’s attention was focused on her baby. As if she hadn’t even noticed. He had a sneaking suspicion she was doing this to spare his feelings, but couldn’t ask her.
Finally, after nearly an hour had passed, the nurse returned, along with the doctor. They gave Nicole instructions, what to watch for, that sort of thing, and then informed her she could go.
He followed her outside. When she reached her car, a late model shiny black BMW, she turned to face him. “I know we need to talk,” she began. “But I’m exhausted and really would like to go home and get some rest. Let’s plan on meeting up some time tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”
She gave it to him and he entered it into his contacts. “I’ll text you mine,” he said.
“Thank you.” She unlocked her car.
Feeling out of sorts, he watched her while she buckled little Jacob into his infant carrier. She barely looked at Kyle once she’d done that, getting into the driver’s side, starting the engine and buckling herself in. Finally, she waved before driving away.
Fool that he was, he watched her go and wondered how he could both love and hate someone at the same time.
The next morning, while he drank a cup of strong black coffee made in his new coffeepot, he texted Nicole his number. Thirty minutes later, she texted back, asking him if he had some free time to sit down and talk. She’d prefer to come to his place. When he asked why, she texted that she had a strong suspicion someone was watching her house.
He gave her the address and told her to come over in about an hour. That’d give him time to shower and get dressed.
Exactly fifty-nine minutes later, the black BMW pulled up in front of his little house. He watched from the front window, keeping his eye on the street so he could see if she’d been followed.
When no other vehicle showed up, he opened his front door and went out to help her. She unlocked the trunk, asking him if he’d mind getting the portable Pack n’ Play. While he wrestled this out onto the sidewalk, she handled the baby and a large diaper bag.
Inside the house, he set down the contraption in the middle of the living room. To his surprise, once he opened it, the thing practically set itself up.
“Thank you.” Nicole smiled at him, and the entire world shifted.
He blinked, turning away until he could ground himself back in reality. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he intended.
Barely looking up from getting her baby settled, she responded. “Water would be great.”
Listen to them. Talking in careful platitudes as if they were complete strangers. In a way, they actually were.
Except that only one year—one stinking year—had passed since he’d kissed her goodbye and gone off to serve his country. How could so much have changed in such a short period of time?
But it had. Returning with two bottled waters, he handed one to her before taking a seat in the armchair, leaving the entire couch for her.
“Nice place,” she commented, glancing around the small room.
“Yours is much nicer,” he pointed out. Not to be cruel, but because it was. But her smile faltered and for one second she looked sad.
But then she lifted her chin and willed herself out of it. “Thank you. It isn’t what I would have chosen, but it’s a decent house.”
Decent.
A flash of anger ripped through him. He realized he couldn’t just sit there and act as if they were casual acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them. As though she hadn’t been his entire reason for living.
“I can’t do this,” he growled. “I know you’ve moved on—I get it. For you, it’s been a long time. For me, it feels like it was just yesterday when you kissed me and told me you’d love me forever.”
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Karen Whiddon
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: He never expected to live againOr have a family…Whilst Army ranger Kyle Benning was believed dead in an explosion, his widow, Nicole Shelton gave birth to his child. Now she’s a prime suspect in a murder case! Kyle battles trauma and a dangerous killer to rescue the woman he still loves…