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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.
