Chapter 19 Beckett
“You handled that really well,” Shawn comments as he steps out onto the porch.
“Did I?” I shake my head, going over every moment in my mind all over again. “I prayed my way through the entire thing.”
“I don’t know anyone else who would be handling things this way.”
“I’m barely standing.” I turn to face him so I can stare up into those hazel eyes that seem to soothe even the deepest ache within me. I can still feel his arms around me, cradling me while I cried.
I can still feel the steady thumping of his heart as it beat against my cheek while I rested on his chest.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that he did, Beckett. I know what he did was wrong, but there is no way he held you and wasn’t hopelessly in love.”
There’s no way he held you and wasn’t hopelessly in love.
I know it’s stupid. Out of place. But when he’d said those words, I imagined it was him he was talking about.
His love for me.
Because, even though we’ve only been together a few days now, and not in anything close to a romantic relationship, my mind is spinning completely out of control. He’s a ray of light in this darkness.
He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face.
What would his kiss feel like?
Would it be soft and tender? Fiery and passionate? Soul-stirring?
My gaze drops to his lips and then back up to his eyes. It’s wrong to be thinking about pressing his lips to mine when I’m currently fighting for the truth about my late husband, but I can’t keep my mind off him.
“We can’t do this,” he whispers, closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing ragged.
“Do what?”
“This. Whatever is happening between us, Beckett, it’s bad timing.” He opens his eyes to look at me.
His words, true as they are, might as well be a dagger to my tattered heart.
Shawn runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve consumed me, Beckett, so much so that I’m not thinking clearly anymore. Just like I imagine you’re not.”
Calling it like he sees it.
And the worst part is that I know he’s right. “I feel so guilty because, even though I shouldn’t be, all I want is to...” I trail off. What can I say? That I want him to love me in the way I thought no one else ever would? In the way I am starting to doubt Paul did?
That, for the first time in over a decade, I have a sliver of hope that I won’t be alone forever?
I start to pull away, but Shawn grips my wrist and pulls me closer.
He cups my face with his free hand. “Let me be clear, Beckett. I am not telling you that I don’t want to know what this is or that I’m confused about what I feel.
Because I’m not. I know exactly what I feel for you, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. ”
My heart begins to pound, and my stomach twists into nervous knots. All while warm desire burns through me, radiating from his thumb caressing the inside of the wrist he’s still holding.
“Grief doesn’t have a timestamp. And as much as you believe you’re ready for something else, we both know you won’t be until we find the truth.
Maybe not even then,” he says softly as he moves in closer, pressing my hand to his heart and closing the distance between us.
“I need you to understand, Beckett Wallace, that you have torn me apart in the best possible way. You’ve consumed my every thought since the moment we met, and seeing you standing there in my precinct the other day was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. ”
I stare up at him, unsure and certain of nothing but him all at the same time.
“But when this dust clears, I don’t want to be something you regret because you jumped in before you were ready.”
He caresses my cheek like I’m something to be treasured.
To be loved.
“I will help you find the truth, and I will be here whenever you’re ready. No matter how long it takes. Because I’m not going anywhere, Beckett.”
Trees pass us by in a blur as we drive through Mount Rainier National Park, headed toward the parking area closest to the crash site. Despite the time that’s passed, Shawn wanted to come out here and compare the files to the actual crash site—or what’s left of it after ten years.
Lauren is in the back seat, silent as she’s been since we climbed in two and a half hours ago.
Not that I’ve been overly chatty myself.
Between everything I’ve learned since yesterday and Shawn’s declaration to me this morning, my mind is little more than a mushy blur of guilt, grief, attraction, and something so close to love it’s scary.
Shawn turns left and pulls into a nearly empty parking lot. There are only two cars here, and both groups seem to be eating at nearby picnic tables.
After putting his truck into Park, Shawn turns to look at me, then Lauren. “We stay together, okay? No veering off.”
“Yes, sir,” Lauren says in a mocking tone I’ve come to realize is her own defense mechanism. She’s hurting—badly.
Shawn’s completely unaffected by it as he gives me a lingering look, then climbs out of the truck.
When the door closes and he goes around to the back to get our hiking gear out, I take a moment to breathe.
“You guys have so much tension it’s smothering,” Lauren comments.
“What?” I turn toward her. Truth be told, I’d forgotten I wasn’t in here alone.
“You and Detective Sampson there. The tension between you two is so thick it makes it hard for the rest of us to breathe.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Truthfully.
No disrespect to my dad or anything. I just think you need to realize exactly why he’s doing this and not pretend it has anything to do with simple friendship.
We’re all going to have to move on with our lives when this is over.
Remember that.” She climbs out of the truck without giving me the chance to respond, and it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts, but after a brief hesitation, I climb out of the truck and join them near the back.
“So what exactly will this prove?” Lauren asks.
“I need to see if the site matches what’s in the files. We already know there are inconsistencies given the missing flight logs no one flagged, but add to that the fact that Beckett was attacked right after I requested the files. I want to see if anything else is off.”
“But it’s been ten years,” she insists as she buckles her backpack over her chest and around her waist.
“Broken trees don’t grow back overnight,” he says. “If the crash is truly what killed him, we’ll find evidence of it. Hopefully.”
“‘Hopefully,’ he says,” Lauren mocks. “I’m not big on hiking, so here’s hoping that hopefully is a definitely.”
I smile softly. Does she realize how very much like her dad she is? I was always the one wanting to go camping out of the two of us.
“What?” Lauren asks when she realizes I’m watching her.
“Your dad wasn’t big on hiking or nature either.”
“Are you?”
“Love it,” I reply. “I’d go for monthly camping trips with my dad growing up; then we’d go at least once a year after I was an adult. Right up until he passed.”
Lauren’s typically hard expression softens slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t know you lost him.”
“Thanks.”
“Your mom?”
“Moved to Hope Springs, Maine shortly after he died. She needed a fresh start.”
We walk in silence for a few moments, with Shawn in the front and Lauren and me staggered right behind him. The heavy scent of pine fills my lungs, and I breathe deeply, feeling slightly at peace despite where we’re headed.
“My grandmother died last year. We didn’t have a great relationship, but she was the only family I had. Both my parents were only children, so there are no aunts, uncles, or cousins. Just me.”
And me, I want to say. She may not be my child, but we were technically family, right? Even though I knew nothing about her. “Well, I know I’m not blood, but I hope you know that I’m here.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll be fine.” Those walls go right back up, so I drop it.
“Are you doing okay?” I ask Shawn as I try to catch up to him.
“I really hope I’m wrong.”
He’d told me his suspicions before we left the house, and I’d seen the pain on his face when he spoke of it. It’s something I understand, though in my profession, most lawyers make a living from covering things up.
As a cop, he should be able to trust the facts recorded in a report.
“Maybe you are,” I offer as I reach down and gently brush his hand with mine. The contact is meant to be reassuring, but it ignites a need in my blood I can’t ignore.
He keeps staring straight ahead, though he clenches his jaw in response. I glance down and note the way he flexes his fingers before tightening them into a fist.
I hate that he’s right—that jumping into it might end horribly. Because, man, what I wouldn’t give to have those strong hands take mine again.
Distance. We need distance.
I let my steps slow just enough to fall a step behind him as we continue down the trail. All around us, tall trees tower, casting a shadow over us as we walk along the slightly muddy path. It rained last night, not much but enough that our steps are not quite stable as we move.
The mud sticks to the bottom of my boots, making them heavier the more we walk, and the silence definitely has the minutes crawling by.
“We’re nearly there,” Shawn says as he checks the handheld GPS he brought with him. “That way.” After pointing toward the left, he veers off the path. I follow, and I glance back at Lauren.
Her eyes are wider than they were, and the frustration that seems to be etched on her face most of the time has faded, revealing the nerves I know she must be feeling.
I certainly have my fair share.
Seeing the place where Paul died is not something I ever wanted to do. But if it will get us answers? Then I’ll do whatever it takes.
We follow Shawn through the thick trees until we push out into a clearing. All around us, trees have been snapped in half or ripped out by the roots. Dead, aside from the vines growing on them and the vegetation around them, I have no doubt that this is the place Paul died.
Where his plane went down.
A boulder off to the right has black scorch marks on the front, and all the trees in the center of the clearing have been broken down to their trunks.
“This is it?” Lauren whispers.
“Yes,” Shawn says, his jaw clenched as he studies the clearing.
“What is it?”
He withdraws his cell phone and taps on the screen a few times before holding it in front of his face. “This is wrong.”
My stomach twists.
“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” Lauren demands. “This has plane crash written all over it.”
“The trees are broken the wrong way,” he says as he shows us the phone in comparison with the ones in front of us. “Someone flipped the picture.”
“Flipped the picture, why?” Lauren questions.
Meanwhile, the truth hits me square in the chest. “Because he didn’t die on his way here. He died after he left. Which explains his full tank. He’d already refueled for the trip home.”
“But he never went to see Lucian that day,” Lauren insists. “They keep extensive paper records. I searched those and the digital footage. He wasn’t there.”
“Which means, either someone manipulated those documents, or he flew into a different airport.”
“But where?” I ask, turning to Shawn.
He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. But I know where we’re going next.”