Chapter
Thirty
Ben Reilly had attended exactlyone birthday party in the last five years that didn't involve a conference room, a sheet cake from the bakery downstairs, and a card signed by forty people.
This one was better. Considerably better, in fact, given that it featured his mother's backyard in Harper, string lights woven through the pine trees like someone had scattered warm stars at eye level, and the unmistakable smell of his father's famous smoked brisket drifting from the grill. Also, Kelly Bateman was here. That helped.
The party was for Presley Reilly's birthday, an event his mother had insisted required no fuss and which his father had responded to by organizing approximately all of the fuss. Ben’s father, Seth, worshipped the ground his wife walked on. Full stop. Nothing less than going completely overboard would do.
There were flowers on every surface. A table groaned under the weight of various delicious food items. There was a hand-painted banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRESLEY hung between two pines, the letters slightly crooked because Chase had painted it, and his artistic talents peaked somewhere aroundsecond grade. It was, in a word, perfect. In the way that imperfect things done with love always were.
Ben stood near the dessert table with a bottle of beer he'd been nursing for the better part of an hour and watched Kelly move through his family like she'd been doing it her entire life.
Chase had gotten to her first. His younger brother had wrapped Kelly in a bear hug the moment she'd stepped through the front door, lifting her clean off her feet and swinging her sideways while she laughed and swatted his shoulder.
Then Lulu had claimed her. His sister had appeared with her phone already in hand, scrolling through photos from her first month as sheriff, narrating each one with the enthusiasm of someone who had discovered that law enforcement was, in fact, the greatest job on earth.
Ben caught fragments as they drifted past. "This is the one where I had to rescue a goat from the highway. That's the goat. His name is Gerald now. He lives at the Hendersons' farm."
Kelly had listened to every word, asked follow-up questions about Gerald, and earned Lulu's undying loyalty in approximately four minutes. They’d talked about the murder that Lulu had solved, too, tentatively planning a podcast on the subject. Kelly was sure that her listeners would want to hear about a female sheriff on her second day on the job, getting pulled into a murder mystery.
And then there was Seth. His father, the retired sheriff, the man who had once been so angry about Lulu taking his job that he'd looked ready to launch into orbit, was sitting in a lawn chair telling Kelly about the time he'd tracked a suspect through a snowstorm in nothing but his uniform, boots, and a prayer.
His mother, Presley, sat beside him, patting his arm occasionally to rein in the embellishments, which she'd been doing for thirty-five years with varying degrees of success. Kellysat across from them, her chin resting on her hand, her brown-gold eyes bright with genuine interest.
She fit. That was the thing Ben kept circling back to. She fit here the way she'd never fit in Bergen. Not because Harper was special or because the Reillys were perfect, but because his family operated on a simple principle that the Batemans had never grasped: you showed up, you were yourself, and that was enough.
Nobody was keeping score. Nobody was measuring her against a standard she couldn't reach. Nobody was going to pull her aside later and explain all the ways she'd fallen short.
Ben took a sip of his beer and felt something loosen in his chest that had been tight since Bergen. Maybe longer. Maybe since the day his company fell apart and he'd stood in his expensive apartment wondering who he was without the title and the office and the eighty-hour weeks.
He was figuring that out. Slowly. But figuring it out.
Kelly rejoined Ben near the dessert table as his Aunt Ava stopped by to give him a hug and to get an introduction. He had no doubt that Ava and Kelly would easily fall into conversation about true crime, cold cases, and yes, the Brysons, both Wade and his son. His honorary aunt might not be a fan of making a movie or television show about it, but she was happy to discuss it all with someone who wasn’t looking to sensationalize it.
Ava wanted people to realize that catching a killer wasn’t glamorous or exciting. It was painful and dangerous, and good people died along the way.
“What I want to hear about is the case you solved,” Ava said to them. “What a lovely thing you’ve done for your friend, Kelly. You’ve done something amazing, and you should be proud of yourself.”
Ben noticed Kelly's shoulders tense for half a second before she relaxed. The old Kelly would have deflected. Changed thesubject. Found a way to minimize her role and redirect attention elsewhere. But the woman standing beside him now was not the old Kelly. She hadn't been since that parking lot.
"My brother killed her," Kelly said. No flinching. No softening. Just the fact, delivered with the steady clarity of someone who had spent weeks processing it and come out the other side. "He killed a seventeen-year-old girl because she wouldn't shut up and do what he said."
To Ava’s credit, her expression didn't change. She was, Ben supposed, accustomed to hearing terrible things stated plainly. That was the nature of her work.
"Rob was arrogant," Kelly continued. "He thought he knew better than everyone. About everything. My parents encouraged it. They made him believe his opinions were gospel. When Lori wouldn't fall in line, when she insisted on keeping her baby and being with the boy she loved, Rob couldn't handle it. She defied him. That's what got her killed."
Ben watched her as she spoke. The wrinkle in her nose was there, the one that appeared when she was thinking hard about something, but her voice was unwavering. Her hands were still. No trembling. No gripping her forearms.
Just Kelly, telling the truth about her family without apology.
"But here's what I keep coming back to," Kelly said, and her voice warmed. "Lori was brave. She was seventeen, pregnant, scared, and she still refused to let anyone else decide her future. She was going to have her baby. She was going to be with Ethan. She was going to tell her friends the truth. She had a plan, and she was moving forward with it, and nobody, not Rob, not Cal, not anyone, was going to talk her out of it."
Kelly paused, and he saw her eyes brighten, a soft smile on her beautiful face.
"I think she and Ethan would have made it," Kelly said. "I really do. They loved each other. They had a plan. It wasn'tconventional, and it wasn't what anyone expected, but it was theirs."
Before she and Ben had left Bergen, Ethan had told them that he’d foolishly never thought that Rob wouldn’t listen to him about not speaking with Lori. It hadn’t occurred to him that Rob might have talked to Lori the day she was murdered, and that he might know something about her disappearance. He’d been a young, naïve kid, filled with anguish, and not thinking straight. Like everyone, he’d wanted to believe the sheriff’s story about a vagrant passing through town.
