Clearing my throat, I force my attention away. “I’m sorry for how I acted that night. I know I wasn’t the greatest company.”
“You weren’t. But now that I know why, it’s okay. Seriously. I wish you would have told me, Shawn.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted everything to feel normal for at least one more night.”
She’s silent for a moment, but I can see that she understands.
That’s another thing I noticed about Beckett Wallace when we first met. As tough as she was, it’s only because she believes in honesty. In justice. She understands the needs of her clients, and she executes against those needs—not her own agenda.
It’s more than the money for her. She cares. Which is unlike just about any other lawyer I’ve ever met.
“She’s okay now?” she asks.
I nod. “She’s been in remission for six months. Insisted on moving back into her house four months ago despite me telling her that she should stay with me. I even offered to sell this place and move in with her.”
“What did she say to that?”
I smirk, remembering the conversation. “That I didn’t need to take a step back. She actually refused to let me move in.”
Beckett smiles widely, and my stomach twists. “As I said, she’s great.” She steps forward and touches my arm with her fingertips. “I am sorry that I misjudged you.”
“I didn’t give you much of a choice.”
Beckett doesn’t move her hand from my arm, and my hands flex down at my sides with my desire to touch her.
To pull her close and hold her, even if I’ll face heartbreak when this is all over.
God, please grant me the strength I need to get through this and keep her safe. Please.
Clearing her throat, she pulls away. “Shall we get to it, then?”
Disappointment surges through me at the termination of this moment, but I force what I hope is a friendly smile. “Let’s keep looking.”
11.Beckett
Shawn’s candid honesty about our horrible first date is pulling my attention from where itshouldbe. Which is on Paul’s murder.
But here I sit, catching myself glancing up at him every few seconds as he continues to pore over the map and the files he has on his computer. Every now and then, I’ll catch him looking at me, which only makes things worse.
From the moment I met him, I found myself drawn to the detective. Even when it made no sense because he was an enemy. But it was there. A pull that had me staying in Seattle long after I actually needed to. Sure, I’d helped Jules Hunt with her grandfather’s estate, but I could have done that from Boston.
No, I’d stayed because, even after our horrible first date, I hoped he would call.
It hurt when he didn’t.
Now that I know the reason behind the way he acted and why he didn’t call, I’ve gone back and obsessed over every moment—from the forced smile when he’d walked into the restaurant to the way he’d kept checking his phone. I thought it was because he was bored, but what if he was waiting for an update?
What if, in those moments when he kept checking his watch, he was really counting the minutes until he could call his mom and check in on her?
“Got something.” He throws both hands up in the air victoriously, so I jump up from the couch and rush over to him, ignoring the way my blood heats in response to his wide smile.
“What?”
“Look at this.” He points to a red dot on his map. “That’s the airport where Paul flew out of in Boston.” He slides his finger over the map toward Seattle. “This is supposedly the airport he was headed to here in Washington when his plane went down here.” He points to another red marker, right over the top of the crash site.
My chest aches, but I take a deep breath and try to push through it. “Okay.”
“Based on the type of small jet he was flying, he would have had to stop at least once since it only held enough fuel for fifteen hundred nautical miles, and it’s twenty-two hundred between these two stops.”
