“He told me. Said he put her body in the water under the falls. You have to find her.”
My voice cracked on my last sentence, and Beckett wrapped an arm gently around me. “Hayes will find her. We’ll put her to rest.”
“I’ll get a search crew out there now,” Hayes said, typing something into his phone.
The tears were back. “She didn’t leave me.”
Beckett pressed his forehead to mine. “She never left you.”
“She was trying to take me away, and he found out.”
Beckett slid onto the bed then, carefully curving his body around mine. “She was so brave.”
“She was.”
And I’d live every minute of this second chance I’d been given in her honor.
50
BECKETT
I tapped lightly on the open door to Addie’s hospital room. This one had natural light and less machinery, but I was ready to have her far away from anything and everything medical. She looked up from where she rested at the edge of the bed, a nurse at her side. “Hey.”
“You ready to get out of here?”
“Beyond ready.” Addie looked up at the nurse. “No offense, Rita. You’re wonderful.”
Rita chuckled. “I’m going to hope I only see you when I come to visit that gallery you’ve been telling me all about.”
Addie smiled. “I like the sound of that plan.”
“You ready for a little good news?” I asked.
Addie looked back to me. “Always.”
“They caught Walter Crichet trying to cross into Mexico with a fake ID.”
Addie’s shoulders sagged as she let out a breath. “They got everyone.”
Hayes had been working overtime to make sure there weren’t any loose threads once Addie got home. He’d had a crew working around the clock until Cecily Kemper’s remains were found. Addie would finally be able to put her mother to rest. And now, she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder as she healed.
I bent and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You’re free.”
She looked up and brushed her lips across mine. “I am.”
“So danged sweet,” Rita said as she rolled the wheelchair closer to the bed, flipping up the footrests. “Your chariot.”
I leaned forward to help Addie up, but she waved me off. “I can stand on my own.”
That might’ve been the case, but Addie was tiring far too quickly. She’d have to sleep for an hour after just one lap around her hospital floor. But I held my tongue.
She pushed up and turned to sit. Her arms shook as she lowered herself into the wheelchair. My jaw worked back and forth. It would take time for Addie to regain her strength. But being home and able to sleep uninterrupted, with good food, and surrounded by people who loved her would help.
Addie looked up at me and reached out a hand, squeezing mine. “You have to let me struggle a bit, or I’ll never get my strength back.”
“She’s right,” Rita agreed. “Small challenges every day. Up and walking at least three times a day. We don’t want you catching pneumonia.”
“I know that,” I gritted out.