almost ominous. He shifted his gaze to the left and saw that the light above the kitchen island wasn’t on. Since this was the only light in the house that was kept on at night, he began to wonder. Then he noticed that the fridge wasn’t humming and the whir of all the ceiling fans on the first floor was absent and the reason for the silence hit him. Hell, no wonder. The electricity was out—it was nothing more than that.
He dropped his keys on the counter. Though it was pitch dark, he knew every nook and cranny of this house. To the left of the counter was a small desk. Beckett opened the desk drawer and withdrew a flashlight. He clicked it on and pulled his cellphone from the clip at his belt. Maggie was probably asleep and didn’t even know about the outage. If the power company couldn’t come out till tomorrow, it was going to be a long, hot night.
As he punched in numbers, a sound in the next room stopped him. Lifting his head, he looked toward the entrance to the dining room. “Mags? How long’s the power been out?”
No answer. Frowning, Beckett stepped forward. “Are you still mad at me? I’m sorry, honey, you know how I—”
Lightning flashed through the large bay window, casting light in the room and revealing a huddled body on the floor. Maggie!
Beckett rushed forward. “Maggie? Honey? What happened?” He fell to his knees beside her, barely noticing the warm wetness that seeped through the fabric of his pants.
Fear spiraled through him as he touched her face, which was soft and warm. His fingers went to her neck, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. Shock and denial screaming silently through him, Beckett reached for the cellphone he had dropped. An ambulance … he had to call an ambulance. Maggie was young and healthy—whatever had happened, they could save her. Dear Lord, he couldn’t lose her … he couldn’t!
“Don’t do that.”
Beckett whirled around. A man stood at the door. Though it was dark, he had no trouble recognizing him—the man had been in his house many times over the years. “What did you do?” Beckett whispered hoarsely.
“I never meant this to happen.”
Rage and disbelief shot through him. “You bastard!” Jumping to his feet, Beckett lunged toward the man he’d once called friend. A searing pain in the back of his head stopped him mid-flight. Stunned, Beckett crashed to the floor.
A deep, familiar voice rumbled above him. “Go turn the power back on. I’ve got another idea. This will work out better anyway.”
Facedown on the hardwood floor, Beckett tried to move. The agony in his head intensified, stopping all movement. He closed his eyes and then opened them again when he heard voices. A small, insistent whisper in his pain-blurred mind told him to get up—that something had happened—but his brain wouldn’t function properly. The pain was unbearable.
“What … happened?” Beckett mumbled, barely able to recognize the voice as his own.
Bright light flooded the room. Beckett blinked; finally able to raise his head slightly, he tried to focus. “What happened?” he asked again.
The deep voice above him answered, “You killed your wife … that’s what happened.”
“What?” Beckett whispered.
“Nobody’s going to believe that,” another familiar voice whispered.
“They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”
Beckett knew he had to get up. Something was seriously wrong. Maggie … he had to get to Maggie. Dear Lord, what had they done to his Maggie? He tried to lift himself from the floor. Another pain seared the back of his head, more agonizing than before. Beckett’s mouth opened to scream out with agony, rage, and betrayal … only a slight whimper emerged. Thick darkness blanketed his mind, cloaking him in its smothering, consuming embrace. Then nothing.
CHAPTER
ONE
EIGHT YEARS LATER
“Savvy, have you seen my pearl necklace?”
“I think I saw it on your dresser yesterday,” Savannah answered. A huff of exasperation followed. “My hair still won’t lie down.”
A soft snort of disgust and then, “I can’t believe you two are acting so silly over some dumb dance.”
Smiling, his arms crossed, Daniel Wilde sat patiently outside the bedrooms of his granddaughters and listened to their excited chatter. Tonight’s dance was a special event for all of them—a benchmark moment they would all remember.
Savannah, shy and much too serious about most things, had surprised them all last month when she had firmly announced that she would be going to the dance. As it was her senior prom, she’d stated, it was a rite of