Pending – Chapter Forty

Catch up on the previous chapters here

It was weird to Nell that Owen’s absence was strange. He’d spent Saturday with Kent, but then yesterday he’d left early so he could head home and … well. Nell didn’t really know what. Deal with Donna, maybe. Try to explain to her, not for the first time, why Kent and Nell couldn’t be Mart and Ellie again, or maybe clarify to her why it wouldn’t be smart for them to come back just yet, even for a visit.

Beckett was in Michigan.

He wanted to see Nell, of course. To confess to her, because he kept insisting he wouldn’t confess to anyone else. Maybe his lawyer got to bill double for weekend hours or something, but it wasn’t working. She had the reassuring text from Adam in case she needed to check it again: He has to give something first before they even think about giving him anything, and he’s one stubborn SOB. That meant his lawyer had to give up soon and regroup for another approach, right?

Not that she really wanted to know what the other approach would be. Unless it was an outright confession, it wouldn’t do her any good.

Nell wasn’t really sure what would do her any good, so even though she had today off, she put her energy into expanding the blind date with a book idea. Kent was at work, so really, she might as well. At least if she felt useless about this, it wasn’t going to come back and haunt her for the rest of her life.

It was almost one, and she was trying to goad herself to get up off the couch and actually make something for lunch, when her phone buzzed. It’s me. Don’t freak out. The text was from Kent, which didn’t exactly help her not to freak out, but was maybe explained when she heard footsteps on the stairs and then a key in the lock. She still wanted to demand why he was home and freak out over the reason behind his appearance instead of the suddenness of it, but Kent didn’t pause to take off his shoes or anything, and he looked … what, pale? Pale, but also …?

“He’s dead,” Kent rasped, just standing there on the vague dividing line between kitchen and living room.

Nell slowly set the laptop on the coffee table and blinked a couple times, but that didn’t work. “Who …?”

“Beckett.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his hair, and …

Jubilant. That’s what it was: pale, because of the shock, but almost jubilant.

“Beckett’s dead. Found in his cell this morning. Suicide.”

“But …”

Kent’s shoes sounded loud on the floor, which was only one reason they didn’t wear them inside, and he dropped to one knee in front of her, reaching for her hands like he was going to propose again. “No,” he said firmly. It was almost a whisper, but there was an intensity in his eyes now, and man, she was getting emotional whiplash just from watching him. “There’s no but, Nell.”

Seriously she had to blink again, because there was plenty to but about. Beckett wanted her and wanted her badly enough to spend years of his life chasing her down. Sure, there were a lot of roadblocks in his way—most of them of his own making—but not enough so that someone with such a long-term plan would just give up now.

Kent shook his head slowly, eyes holding hers. “You don’t protest to anyone, Nell. Nobody questions this.”

She tried to swallow but her throat was suddenly dry. “You, uh … you and your dad … on Saturday.” Nell knew she wasn’t making much sense, but she shook her head and tried again. “You told him … all the things we’re …” All the things we’re not doing as long as Beckett’s alive was how she meant to finish, but she saw she didn’t have to. Kent didn’t nod, but yes, that was how that sentence ended.

Saturday. Their male bonding day. They’d probably covered some of the same things she had with Art, but it would be more personal to Owen: no grandkids from his oldest child. No visits home, if they thought it would ever put the others in danger. No relaxing.

No room to breathe.

“It was suicide,” Kent repeated slowly, eyes burning with all the things he was trying to keep tamped down inside. “A pen cap, shaped and sharpened. The sort of cap on the pens his court-appointed lawyer favored.”

“How did he …?” Like it mattered.

Kent took one of his hands back and gestured to his throat.

Suicide. Beckett was caught, backed into a corner, and he had no other way out. It was suicide. Not Owen stepping in to once again protect his son’s future. Not some band of brothers thing going on because of Nathan Hillier, or for the same reason Nathan Hillier made his own choices. Just … suicide.

“They’re, um …” She shook her head a little and laughed, but asked it anyway: “They’re sure he’s dead? And it’s him? It’s … really over?”

“They’re sure. Dad called. There was nothing interfering with immediate identification. No record of anyone else going into his cell. There might be, uh …” He almost wrinkled his nose. “Questions, since Beckett was supposed to be on suicide watch, but I don’t think too many people will kick up a fuss.”

Mother dead. Acquaintances comparing him to Norman Bates. No, whatever guard let his attention slip was probably safe. “Killed himself,” she whispered, but she couldn’t look away from Kent. Not when he needed her to internalize this part of it.

“Killed himself,” he agreed.

Nell bit her lip, but there was another question. “Did you want him to?”

That was enough to make Kent look away but, still on one knee, he brought his eyes back to hers. “No. It didn’t occur to me. I just ran back to my dad like I was a kid and the problem was something he could take out into the garage and fix, but I didn’t think … I didn’t ask him to …” Kent swallowed hard and shook his head a little. “Does it change things? Nell? Between …?”

Between her and Owen, or between her and Kent? Except the answer was the same, and her head shook before he finished his questions. “Not in a bad way.”

“Not …?”

Nell bent her head and kissed the back of his hand. “I mean, it changes a lot, doesn’t it? If we … if we’re …”

Slowly, still holding her hands, Kent got up enough to sit on the couch, simply staring at her. Nell shifted a bit to face him and tried to see if he was going down the list of everything they could do now, everything they wanted to do, tick by tick, or if he was just marveling at the number of items he’d have to consider. All the things that Owen knew, either because Kent said them or didn’t say them, that they’d put on hold for the past five years, and would have had to surrender indefinitely.

Owen, who hadn’t called in any favors five years ago, and Owen, who certainly hadn’t done a single thing now. You probably weren’t supposed to be this relieved and comforted that someone you knew could get away with murder, but there it was.

Kent took a deep, shuddery breath and held it for a good long while before letting it out again. “I think the first thing we’re supposed to do is visit Michigan and let my mom call us by the wrong names.”

Nell wrinkled her nose. “I’ll visit, but I can’t promise I’ll answer her.”

“Fair.” Chuckling a little, he reached up to touch her cheek, a gentle brush that made her shiver. “This, uh … this is going to take a lot of getting used to.” Then he frowned.

“Honey?”

“Just … his book comes out tomorrow. That’s all. I just … it just occurred to me.”

Nell took her own deep breath and shifted again, this time to sit on Kent’s lap and lean against him as she tried to think it all through. This could get them a boost in sales, maybe, but Beckett wouldn’t see a single penny. And, since he didn’t have family or friends … well. It wasn’t up to her where the money would go, but that was something she’d be interested in watching unfold.

The families, maybe. They didn’t get a confession, but either way the book mined their daughters’ deaths … Although that probably wouldn’t include Margaret or Trevor. Their loved ones had trials, and convictions, and probably were grateful they wouldn’t have to go through some sort of attempt to overturn those convictions, and …

Too much. It was too much.

Kent cleared his throat and shifted to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. “You probably figured this part out, but Brandon sent me home.”

“Is it in the news?”

“No, I had to tell him.” He squeezed her a little tighter and then leaned over to grab her phone before she could ask for it. “Art?”

“Yeah.” If they’d let him in, and freaked him out, then he deserved the news ASAP. “Do you think Adam …?” But when her phone screen came on, there was already a text from him: You’ve heard? She sent the agent a quick Yes before trying to figure out what, exactly, she was willing to put in writing to Art. It’s over. Suicide. Tell you more when I see you. And send, because she didn’t really have any other information right now, anyway.

Kent linked his arms around her and tried another deep breath. “So. How are you doing?”

“Hell if I know.” Her voice came out in a tremble that made her aware of exactly how close she was to crying or laughing hysterically or who knew what all. “How am I supposed to feel? Like it’s all coming undone?” Nell shook her head sharply, because that wasn’t quite right. The tight wraps she’d had on herself were coming undone, maybe, but not everything.

Kent buried his face in her neck and had to clear his throat before he said anything. “I know,” he finally choked out, holding her tighter. “I know.”

---

Chapter Forty-One – coming February 10