“He … he’s right. You … you gave up on us, Mac,” she said, slowly and deliberately, giving Ian what he wanted to hear. “Ian didn’t. He … he knew what he wanted and he took it.”

  Ian pulled her tighter against him, emboldened by her words. “Got that, Mac? You gave up. You gave up your rights. She wants me now.”

  “Then let her go.” Without looking down or away from Ian and the gun pointed directly at him, Mac eased Addie into an overstuffed chair, terrified she’d wake up. She didn’t. She curled onto her side and drew her knees to her chest, sound asleep.

  Then he moved carefully and slowly as far away from his precious child as possible so she’d be out of the line of fire if Ian decided to take him permanently out of the picture.

  “No man worth his salt has to hold his woman hostage in order to keep her,” he needled. “So let her go. Unless you think you can’t hold her.”

  Instead of releasing Rachael, Ian tightened his arm around her waist. “You’d like that. You’d like the chance to take her from me.”

  “Sounds to me like she’s already yours.”

  Rather than anger him, Mac’s words seemed to bolster him. “So she says.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Let her go.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed. The gun in his hand never wavered. Time crawled then stopped when Dillon roared into the cabin.

  Ian fired wildly as Dillon ducked and rolled across the floor to the chair where Addie slept and covered her with his body.

  The distraction was all Mac needed. He vaulted across the sofa and flew at Ian, knocking both him and Rachael to the floor. Another wild round fired into the ceiling as the gun sailed out of Ian’s hand. Rachael scrambled toward Addie on all fours.

  And Mac launched a round house punch at Ian’s face that temporarily stunned him. Ian roared in anger and pain when Mac straddled him, throwing punch after punch while Ian tried ineffectively to land body blows.

  Mac heard the crunch of bone breaking. Blood spurted from Ian’s nose and shot up to splatter Mac’s face. He kept punching, fighting for his life and his wife and his child, consumed with a blind anger that this man, who he’d called friend, brother, had betrayed him and put everything he held dear at risk.

  “Mac. Mac … easy man. He’s not going to hurt anyone now.”

  For the first time, he realized that a hard hand gripped his shoulder. Dillon.

  And still he lifted his fist to pummel Ian’s face.

  Dillon caught his fist midair. Stopped him before he could land another blow.

  “It’s over,” Dillon said. “He’s out cold, Mac. It’s over.”

  Breathing hard, heart pumping with a primal rage, Mac finally stopped. Ian’s bloodied and battered face was lax with unconsciousness.

  “Yeah,” Mac said, sucking in air and forcing himself to relax. “It’s over.”

  “Mac.”

  He looked over his shoulder. Rachael.

  He pushed himself up and off of Ian’s prostrate body and caught her as she launched herself into his arms.

  Outside, the sound of sirens and the flash of spotlights split the silence.

  “This is the police. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It took more than explanations to clear things up. More than Dillon arguing Mac’s case because when Ian came to, he had a totally different story to tell. A story that had Mac playing the villain and Ian proclaiming from his hospital bed that he had saved the day.

  Ignoring all of Rachael and Dillon’s arguments, the military police took Mac back into custody. Discounting her protests, they shackled Mac’s and hands and shoved him into an armored army vehicle then drove him back to Leavenworth that very night.

  Dillon had known they wouldn’t get anywhere with the military, so they’d followed the sheriff’s car back into town. Bless Cassie. She hadn’t hesitated when Rachael had called her at midnight asking her to meet them at the sheriff’s office. Cassie had hopped right in her car, bundled up Addie then stayed with her while Rachael and Dillon worked to straighten everything out.

  “Listen! You have to listen to this!” Rachael demanded, pounding on the sheriff’s desk. “This proves Mac’s innocence.”

  Sheriff Mark Bolger rocked back in his chair, readjusted his hat and stared her down. “I know you’re upset. You’ve been through an ordeal. But we can sort it out in the morning.”

  “We will not wait until morning! We will do this now!”

  Except for Rachael’s labored breathing, total silence descended.

  The sheriff stared at her, dumbstruck, clearly not used to being challenged.

  “My husband is an innocent man and he will not sleep anywhere tonight except his own bed. Not one more night in prison! Do you understand?”

  Bolger was about twenty pounds overweight, had a heavy growth of five o’clock shadow and was missing his nightly bowl of rocky road ice cream. He was also two hours past his shift change and had designs on his own bed.

  He was seasoned and a little sour. He’d seen everything. He’d heard everything. Tonight was no different. Except that he was also more intimidated than he’d ever admit by this red-haired woman who stood over him like a lioness protecting her cubs.

  “Mrs. McKenzie. I understand. Emotions are running high. We’ll all sleep on it and sort things out in the morning. Now please-”

  “We’ll sort things out now.” Glaring at him, she pulled out her phone.

  While Ian was busy making soup and setting the table, she’d gotten to her phone without him noticing, set it to record then slid it into the pocket of her cardigan.

  “All you need to do is listen.” She turned on the recording.

  Bolger glanced at Dillon for help. Dillon crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a look that cinched the deal.

  Finally accepting that he wasn’t going to get out of the office and home until she had her way, Bolger lifted a hand, indicating that she should play the damn thing and get it over with.

  By the time the tape recording played out, Bolger had rocked forward and exchanged looks with Dillon. Every word of Ian bragging about how he’d shot the Afghan man and framed Mac had been recorded. She’d also captured him talking about his involvement with the heroin trade explaining that was the reason he’d shot the man in the first place. That he could frame Mac was just icing on the cake.

  Bolger was quiet for a moment, then picked up his phone. “Let me make some calls.”

  It didn’t take them long after that to relay the information to all levels of law enforcement, including the Army and Leavenworth to start the paperwork to release Mac and assign a full time guard to Ian’s hospital room. He may be talking, but he wasn’t going to be up and around for several days. And when that did happen, he’d go straight to the brig.

  “You’re a rock star,” Dillon told Rachael as they waited in the common area of the USDB for Mac to walk through those doors, a free man.

  Rachael paced the floor, her eyes fixed on the door she’d gone through too many times to visit Mac. Then she stopped abruptly. Turned to Dillon.

  “I haven’t thanked you. My God. What you did. Believing Mac. Coming with him to the cabin. Throwing yourself through the door like that and protecting Addie. You put your life on the line for us.”

  “Don’t. Oh, Lord, don’t cry,” he said, opening his arms and pulling her in for a comforting hug. “You’re good people. You do what you can for good people.”

  “Does that include making a move on my wife while I rot in prison?”

  Rachael spun around at the sound of Mac’s voice. Touched her fingertips to her lips. “Mac.”

  “Yeah,” he said pulling her into his arms while Dillon grinned. “It’s me. It’s finally me.”

  Then he kissed her. Like she was his life. Like she was his forever.

  Like he’d never let her out of his sight again.

  Three weeks later, Mac bought Rachael a bird feeder for their anniversary.

  “I love it,” she said, as they stood with their arms around each other on the back deck, watching tiny little gold finches fight for room on the perches. “But why a bird feeder?”

  Mac bussed a kiss across her cheek and hugged her tighter. “Because I missed them. Birds,” he clarified. “No windows, not a lot of fresh air and all the time I was in Leavenworth, I kept thinking about birds. About how free they are.

  “I know,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Sounds corny and Pollyanna and sappy.”

  “No. I understand. I think it’s sweet.” She tipped her face up to his for a kiss.

  He didn’t disappoint her. He took her mouth with a gentle possession that told her everything she needed to know about love and lust and the freedom he felt to be home with her, to be her husband again.

  “Addie likes to watch them too,” she said snuggling against him with her back to his chest and his arms linked around her waist.

  “Speaking of our daughter, my Lord, she’s beautiful.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me there. She looks just like you.”

  “So I’m beautiful now, am I?” He turned her around to face him, his eyes alight with love as he looped his arms low behind her hips.

  “Is beautiful not macho enough for you, Lieutenant?”

  “Oh, you can call me beautiful.” He dropped a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Then at the tender spot beneath her earlobe. “Just don’t call me after midnight.”

  “Why? What happens after midnight?”

  “I’m going to be busy. Seeing to the needs of my wife.”

  She giggled. “We have to wait until midnight?”

  He pulled her up tight against him. Let her feel the effect she had on him. “Well, now that you mention it, Addie goes to bed around eight, doesn’t she?”

  He kissed her then. With a promise that tonight, like every night since he’d come home, he would show her and tell her what her love meant to him.

  Much later, sated and spent and wrapped in each other’s arms, they talked quietly about the past, the present, the future.

  They talked about Ian. Both of them were still grief stricken and horrified by what had happened.

  “How could we have missed it? He had to have had so much pent up hatred for me.”

  Rachael nodded against Mac’s chest, let her hand drift over his ribs. “He was sick, Mac. We’ll never know what set him off. And we’ll never be able to tell him that we did love him.”

  That was probably the hardest part, Rachael thought. They had loved him. They weren’t paying lip service when they said they considered him a brother.

  “I miss him,” Mac whispered into the dark of their bedroom. “I … just wish I could help him.”

  They both fell silent then, steeped in regrets and confusion and knowing they could search for answers the rest of their lives and never find them.

  “Looks like they’ve uncovered some forensic evidence linking Ian to Cal Reynolds’ death,” Mac said. “He was a great kid. Such a waste.

  “I think,” he said after a moment, “I want to go visit his parents. Let them know how highly regarded he was by the company.”

  She slid her bare leg over his thighs. “They’d like that. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

  Mac’s future in the army had been a bit up in the air since he’d been released. Right now, he was home on three months leave, a small compensation along with back pay, to make up for his incarceration.

  He’d been enjoying his time with her and Addie, but Rachael knew he was at loose ends. She felt a pressing need to ask the question she’d been holding on to. The one that she knew he needed time and room to think about

  She propped herself up on one elbow. Could just make out his features in the dark. “Have you made a decision yet?”

  He turned toward her. Touched a hand to her hair. “About staying in the army? I might have. But I want to run it by you first.”

  He twisted at the waist and reached around to turn on the bedside lamp.

  “What would you think,” he asked turning back to her and brushing her hair back from her face so he could see her eyes, “if I went to law school?”

  “Law school?” His suggestion came out of nowhere.

  “I … I keep thinking about some of those guys. The guys in Leavenworth with me. No money to pay a private attorney. No confidence in their military appointed lawyer. I don’t know. Maybe I could help.”

  She smiled up at him. “I like it. I like the idea.”

  “It’s a long shot, but I might be able to get my law degree through the Army JAG Corps. I’ve done some research. Each year the Judge Advocate General’s Corps accepts around two dozen active duty officers to participate in FLEP. The Funded Legal Education Program.”

  She grinned. “JAG? FLEP? Is there anything the Army doesn’t have an acronym for?”

  He smiled.

  She touched her fingers to his lips. “So, what does that mean financially?”

  He cupped her hand in his, kissed her fingertips. “Well, the government pays tuition and living expenses, as if I’m ‘deployed’ – but instead they pay me to go to law school.”

  She settled closer against him and he tucked her head under his chin. “Can you actually be deployed again?”

  “Yeah. That’s part of the obligation. Plus I’d have to commit to continue on in the army for several years after I graduate.”

  “But that’s what you’re wanting to do anyway, right? Represent men and women who can’t afford representation?”

  He nodded against her hair. “Yeah. And in retrospect, I sold my JAG attorney short. He was doing the best he could by me. The charges, as presented, were just overwhelming. Even Dillon’s hands were tied. And I wasn’t exactly a model client.”

  She had difficulty thinking back to those horrible days when Mac hadn’t been Mac and the hopes and dreams they shared today had been buried in the rubble of Ian’s deception.

  One positive thing to come out of it was that Dillon Nelson had become a good friend. They would never forget what he’d done for them both as a lawyer and as a friend that night at the cabin.

  “If I can’t get admitted through FLEP,” Mac went on breaking into her thoughts, “it would mean tightening our belts for a few years,” he warned her.

  “Somehow,” she said, thoughtfully, “considering what you’ve been through, I’m thinking you’ve got a pretty good chance of being admitted. And if you’re not, then we’ll figure something out.”

  He cupped the back of her head in his hand and drew her closer. “I love you.”

  “Yes,” she said and kissed him. “You do.”

  The next morning Rachael watched from the kitchen as Addie toddled out of her bedroom dragging her new best friend, Doby. Her new trick was climbing out of her crib on her own. Rachael was alternately thrilled and horrified at how independent she’d become.

  BunBun had sort of taken a spot at the back of the toy bin since Daddy had brought home a plush pink and yellow dog named Dog Baby. Or, Doby, to her precious owner. Doby slept with Addie, ate with Addie, and played with Addie.

  “They’re like Siamese twins,” Rachael laughed one day. “Never apart. I’m thinking that Doby will probably go along on her first date.”

  “Considering she’s not going to be allowed to date until she’s twenty-five, that’s going to look a little silly, now isn’t it?” Mac had said with a straight face.

  Daddy loved his little girl. And when she came toddling up to him, dragging Doby by an ear, he scooped her up onto his lap and blew raspberries on her tummy until she screamed with giggles.

  “You are so silly,” he told her while she caught her breath.

  “You silly, Daddy.” Then she lifted up his shirt and did her own sloppy, wet version of raspberries on his stomach. Of course he laughed and squirmed until she was out of breath with giggles again.

  Her eyes flooded with happy tears as Rachael watched the love flourish between them. Her husband and her daughter. Safe and home. And she thanked God that they were all home together.

  familysecrets.life

  The wheat, the chaff, the seed, the pod – all must be sorted to find the treasure within. Look deeply enough and you will find it. The trust you lost, the truth you sought, the belief you need. It’s all there, where you always knew it would be.

  familysecrets.life

  Sneak Peek

  The Lie © 2020 by Debra Webb

  The decision to dig into your past

  is not one to take lightly. You may

  discover that there are

  some secrets best left buried.

  FamilySecrets.Life

  ONE

  “All these years,” he said, mostly to himself, “Being caught was never a concern.”

  He laughed. Not really a laugh. More a dry, rusty sound. Men like him didn’t laugh. Not really. But this was almost laughable. He had gone to great lengths to protect the work. His every tedious effort had kept him safe for more than three decades.

  How many others, he mused, could claim such an astounding record?

  Few, he supposed.

  Now, however, his choices had been limited. A man could not outrun fate forever. Even a cat ran out of lives eventually.

  He smiled at his companion who glared back at him from the keeping place.

  “I can’t stop it now.” Not that he actually wanted to prevent what came next. In fact, he relished the potential interactions and reactions to come. He was protected. Though he would miss the challenge of the work he had come to love so, change was a part of life.

  For a true chameleon, transformation was a necessary element of existence.