your friend and trusting ally, your mother for all time.
Elizabeth read the note twice, then folded it with care. She’d ached for her mother, but in a way was relieved. As much as they loved each other, how could the horrors her father had wrought not thrive in whatever place they shared? Too many shared looks and memories, childhood and holidays, and a thousand different nights. They both needed to find their way first, some manner in which to meet each other’s eyes without drowning in the guilt of their long and mutual ignorance. The time would come, Elizabeth knew, but not soon and not easily. In the meantime, she’d write again and let her mother know she’d found the letter, and that time, at least, remained their friend.
Beckett came next, and the meeting would be hard. She’d spent long nights concocting theories of why he’d done the things he’d done. She had one or two, but theories weren’t answers, and she needed to understand so many things.
Parking near his house, she saw him on the porch in a wheelchair. He couldn’t walk anymore and wasn’t a cop. He taught criminology at the community college, and in the pictures she’d found online, he seemed well enough, though sad. She watched him for a long time, realizing as she did that, in spite of everything, she’d missed him. They’d been partners for four years, and he’d saved her life more than once. Was the wheelchair a large enough price for whatever mistakes he’d made? She didn’t know, yet, but planned to find out.
He didn’t move when he saw her. He didn’t smile, either. “Every day.” He nodded when he said it. “Every day I’ve waited for you to come.” His eyes were dark and troubled, his legs wasted beneath a quilt.
Elizabeth stepped onto the porch. “I’ve tried very hard not to hate you.”
“There’s that, at least.”
“Why’d you do it, Charlie?”
“I never thought anyone would die.” His eyes filled as he said it. “Please believe me when I say that.”
“I do. Now, help me understand. What did he have on you?”
“Elizabeth…”
“I want to know what leverage was so strong you’d put those children and me in danger. No bullshit, either, Charlie. You owe me the truth, at least.”
He sighed and watched the street. “If I do this, I’ll never repeat it again, not to you or anyone else.”
“You understand I can’t make the same promise.” Elizabeth couldn’t hide the way she felt. She was angry and frustrated.
Beckett seemed to accept that. “My wife is an educated woman. College degree. A master’s. She didn’t always cut hair.”
“Okay.”
“When she was young, she worked for the county.” Beckett smoothed the quilt. “Specifically, she worked for the comptroller.”
“She was a bookkeeper?”
“An accountant,” Beckett said. “Gideon’s father worked for the county, too. He was an assistant county manager, believe it or not. A different man before his wife died. Young, ambitious. He didn’t drink. Didn’t even smoke.”
“I remember he was working with Adrian and Francis.”
“A quarter million dollars were missing from the county treasury. He was helping Adrian and Francis figure it out. They were close. Another week and they’d have found her.”
Elizabeth saw it, then. “Your wife.”
“I couldn’t let her go to prison. She had a problem then, but not anymore. Gambling in secret. Stupid stuff that caught her out. She’s not a bad person. You know her. You have to believe that.”
“She was stealing funds, and Adrian was close to figuring it out.”
“I just wanted him distracted. That’s it. I thought the beer can would make him look sloppy, make people doubt. It was just a distraction. Liz, please…”
But, she had to walk away, down the porch and back. “You planted evidence in a murder case. You implicated another cop.”
“I didn’t know about the scratches or the DNA match. I didn’t think Adrian would go to prison. When the match came back, I thought he was guilty, that I’d actually helped.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know that.”
“We could have caught the real killer—”
“I thought we had the real killer! Don’t you see the horrible truth of it? I thought I’d done this selfish thing and gotten lucky. I thought it was providence.”
Elizabeth stared out at the street, feeling the weight of it. The can led to Adrian, then to the blood sample and the DNA match. It led to his conviction, his torture, and all the evil the warden had brought into Elizabeth’s life. “Without the can we might have caught my father thirteen years ago. Lauren Lester,