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“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.”
