Chapter 10 - THE HUSBAND WHO DIDN’T COME HOME
Belle tore the photograph from the board.
Her hands shook so badly she nearly ripped it.
“That’s him.”
Renick said nothing.
“That’s Owen.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
Belle turned on him.
“You knew him in photographs. I knew how he stood when his back hurt. I knew he always rolled his left sleeve higher than his right. I knew that scar near his thumb.”
She pointed.
The man in the picture held a coffee cup.
A white line crossed his hand.
“He got that cutting a window frame when he was nineteen.”
Renick studied it.
Belle pressed the photograph against her chest.
“He’s alive.”
“Seventeen months ago, he was.”
“He’s alive.”
Renick did not argue.
That mercy mattered.
Belle searched the basement.
Drawers.
Boxes.
Maps.
Anything.
“Why didn’t he come home?”
Her voice broke.
“If he was alive, why didn’t he come home?”
Renick said the answer neither wanted.
“Maybe he couldn’t.”
“For seven years?”
“Maybe coming home put you in danger.”
Belle laughed through tears.
“We were already in danger.”
“He may not have known.”
“He knew where we lived.”
“Maybe Bianca did.”
Belle stared at the photographs.
Bianca had watched her for years.
Maybe Owen had too.
The thought hurt almost more than his death.
To be alive.
To see Micah grow.
To choose distance.
Renick found a metal file box.
Inside were coded documents.
One folder had Micah’s name.
Belle grabbed it.
School records.
Medical visits.
Pictures.
Every year.
Someone had followed her son.
Then she found handwritten notes.
His reading improved.
Asthma? No.
Likes birds.
Afraid of thunder.
Belle covered her mouth.
Owen’s handwriting.
Renick saw it.
“He was watching.”
Belle sank into the chair.
“He knew.”
She cried then.
Not softly.
Not gracefully.
Seven years of mourning collided with seven years of abandonment.
Renick stood nearby but did not touch her.
Eventually Belle wiped her face.
“There has to be a reason.”
“Yes.”
“You believe that?”
“I believe a man who risked his life to hide Bianca and Isla probably had one.”
Belle looked at him.
“Or he became a coward.”
Renick’s expression shifted.
“You want to hate him.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“That makes sense.”
She almost snapped at him for sounding kind.
Instead, she looked at the map.
One location had been circled.
An abandoned lighthouse near Port Clyde.
Belle pointed.
“Lighthouse.”
The old Kavanaugh security symbol.
Renick stepped closer.
A date was written beside it.
Tomorrow.
August 10.
Belle’s pulse quickened.
“Someone planned to go there tomorrow.”
Renick called his team.
Within minutes they were moving.
The lighthouse stood on private coastal land accessible by an unpaved road.
Renick wanted to wait for more men.
Belle refused.
“If Owen is there—”
“If Declan is there?”
“Then you can do whatever terrifying thing you do.”
Renick gave her a long look.
“That’s not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
They reached the lighthouse near sunset.
Wind whipped the grass.
The ocean struck black rocks below.
The door was unlocked.
Inside smelled of salt and old timber.
They climbed.
Second level empty.
Third empty.
At the top, Belle found a mattress.
Food cans.
Water.
A medical kit.
Someone had been living there.
Recently.
On a table sat a red toy bird.
Micah had owned one identical to it.
Belle picked it up.
Owen had bought Micah three plastic birds before he died.
Blue.
Yellow.
Red.
The red one disappeared when Micah was four.
Belle had assumed he lost it at daycare.
Her breath caught.
“He was near us.”
Renick examined the room.
Then a floorboard creaked behind them.
Everyone turned.
A gun pointed through the doorway.
The man holding it had gray in his beard.
A scar along his jaw.
Tired green eyes.
Belle forgot how to breathe.
“Owen.”
His gun dropped.
For seven years Belle had imagined this moment impossible.
Now that it existed, she could not move.
Owen stared at her.
“Bella.”
Nobody else had called her that.
Belle crossed the room.
She slapped him.
Hard.
Owen accepted it.
Then she hit him again.
He still did not move.
Then she wrapped both arms around him.
The sound that left him was broken.
“Bella.”
She shoved him away.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“You were alive!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
She hit his chest.
“You watched us.”
“Yes.”
“You watched Micah grow up.”
“Yes.”
“You let him cry for you.”
Owen’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Belle slapped him again.
Renick quietly told the guards to step outside.
Belle barely noticed.
“Why?”
Owen looked past her.
At Renick.
“Because his brother told me he’d kill both of you if I came back.”
Renick’s jaw hardened.
“Declan.”
Owen shook his head.
“No.”
Belle froze.
“Then who?”
Owen looked at Renick.
“Patrick.”
Renick’s face changed.
Owen continued.
“Declan stole money. Patrick stole names.”
“What names?”
“Federal witnesses. informants. judges. cops.”
Renick stared.
“From the ledger?”
“Copies.”
Owen nodded.
“And somebody bigger bought them.”
“Who?”
Owen looked toward the windows.
“Callum Vale.”
The late wife’s brother.
Renick whispered, “Callum.”
Owen continued.
“He’s been building a network inside your organization for years.”
Belle’s mind raced.
“Where is Isla?”
Owen looked at her.
“Safe.”
Renick stepped forward.
“Where?”
Owen raised a hand.
“If I tell you, she stops being safe.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“I know.”
“You knew for eight years.”
“I kept her alive for eight years.”
Renick moved toward him.
Belle stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Both men looked at her.
She pointed at Owen.
“You owe me seven years.”
Then at Renick.
“You owe your daughter eight.”
She breathed hard.
“So neither of you is going to ruin this by acting like idiots.”
Owen almost smiled.
It vanished quickly.
“There’s something else.”
Belle stared.
“What?”
Owen looked toward the staircase.
“Micah cannot go back to Boston.”
Her blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Because Callum knows what Micah saw.”
“The balcony?”
Owen shook his head.
“No.”
Belle’s heart slammed.
“What did he see?”
May you like
Owen looked at her.
“The man who locked Brinley outside.”
