Bittersweet, Rachael thought again. Ian was wonderful with Addie and generously filled a hole the little girl needed filling. And even though it was Mac who should be holding her, she took joy in seeing Ian and Addie together.

  “So how was your day?” Ian asked setting Addie back down on the floor and turning back to the pasta.

  “Better now,” she admitted. “That smells wonderful.”

  “Plain old Marinara sauce and pasta. I made a salad, too. It’s in the fridge.”

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I owed you a dinner. Plus I wanted to. No biggie.”

  “Biggie,” she corrected. “Huge biggie. I’m beat. This is just what I needed tonight. Thank you, so much.”

  When she sat down at the kitchen island, he walked to the fridge, brought out a chilled bottle of wine and poured her a glass. “Enjoy.”

  “I think I will.” She lifted the glass to her lips, savored. “I could get used to being spoiled like this. So don’t stop. Don’t stop immediately.”

  He laughed again.

  “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  Steam rose from the sink as the pasta cooled. “I never drink and cook. It’s a recipe for singed chest hair.”

  “He said from experience?”

  “Only took once.”

  Ian had always made her smile. He didn’t even have to work at it. Over the years they had developed sort of a rhythm. He said yes. She said no. He said something else. And she laughed.

  Only tonight she felt guilty enjoying herself when Mac was suffering.

  “How was he today?” she asked after another long slow sip.

  He scratched the back of his neck. Hesitated.

  “Bad, huh?”

  “It’s not good, Rachael. I wish I could say otherwise.”

  “I’m so worried about him,” she confided. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “The lawyer came today,”

  “What? No. He was supposed to notify me when he was coming. I wanted to be there for their first meeting.”

  “I know. And he sent his apologies. He had a last-minute cancelation and wanted to take advantage of it to get out to meet with Mac as soon as possible.”

  It never failed. She made plans, someone messed with them. Still, as disappointed as she was that she hadn’t been in on that first meeting, just knowing Mac finally had a lawyer lifted her spirits.

  “What did you think of him?” She’d met Dillon Nelson at his office the other day, talked to him at length about Mac’s case and decided he was the man they needed. Like Mac, Dillon had served at Ft. Riley. Also an officer, like Mac and Ian. He’d deployed overseas three times before he’d retired and gotten his law degree.

  “I liked him,” Ian said confidently. “He was sincere, no nonsense and empathetic to Mac’s circumstances. He’s also fast. He’s already requested that Mac have an MRI and CT scan on his head as he feels it could be pertinent to the case. The memory issue, you know. He took down the names of everyone in Mac’s platoon, his direct company commander and anyone else deployed with him or working with him.”

  “For character references?”

  “That and he wants to interview them … discover anything he can about any possible animosities in the ranks, any grudges, any shady activities lurking around the fringes. Anything to come up with another motive someone else might have had for killing the man and framing Mac. Sometimes things go dark over there.”

  “Dark?”

  “Drugs, contraband. Weapons sales.”

  “Heroin,” she filled in quietly.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “Someone had to have planted it in his desk. Mac would never be involved in anything like that.”

  “No,” Ian agreed quickly, “but someone else might have been. Might still be and Mac ended up the scapegoat.”

  Back to the heroin. It remained a huge question mark. “Surely they tested Mac for drugs and found him clean.”

  “They did, yeah. Nelson wants to meet with you tomorrow if you can work out a time.”

  She nodded. “I’ll figure something out.”

  They’d been amazingly kind and generous at work. The owner of the pharmacy liked her, liked Mac and was sympathetic, if not confused and curious, like everyone else. But he’d been wonderful to offer her the time off she needed.

  “What did Mac think of Nelson?” she asked

  “I think he was okay with him. Didn’t like the way he repeated question after question about the night of the murder but in the end Mac understood that he was trying to leave no stone unturned.”

  She nodded, feeling a modicum of relief that Nelson sounded like a true advocate for Mac. Much better than the military appointed attorney.

  “What else?”

  “He’s wanting to get approval for Mac to undergo hypnosis, to see if that will help uncover his memory of what happened that night.”

  “Hypnosis.” She hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know if I actually believe in it, but if Nelson thinks it will help, I’m all for it.”

  “Well, Mac’s not.”

  She’d lifted her glass halfway to her lips. Set it back down. “Why?”

  “He’s concerned about the cost, Rachael. The military appointed attorney was on the army’s dime. Nelson’s on yours. Mac’s worried about saddling you with mounting costs.”

  “I don’t care what it costs. We’ll figure out a way to pay for it.”

  “That’s what I told him. Still, he wouldn’t okay it.”

  “I need to talk to him,” she said. “Tomorrow. We’ll straighten this out.”

  Only straightening things out was easier said than done.

  “Mac,” Rachael leaned closer to her husband the next day, her hands laced together on the table across from him. “You’re not being reasonable about this.”

  “I will not bankrupt you, Rachael. I won’t leave you and Addie on your own with a semi-truck full of legal debt while I rot away in here for the next, God knows how many years.”

  “You’re not going to stay here,” she said emphatically. “We’re going to prove your innocence.”

  “No,” he said, just as insistently. “We’re not.”

  He met her eyes and the hardness in them frightened her. “We’re going to lose. I’ve already told you – and Nelson confirmed it. The army’s successful prosecution record is ninety nine percent.”

  “If it comes to that, then we’ll appeal!”

  He expelled a heavy breath. “Do you know what the prison population is in Leavenworth Maximum security, Rachael? It’s four-hundred-forty men. Do you know how many have appealed their convictions? Four-hundred-forty.”

  She hung her head, dug deep to hang on to some sort of hope when he seemed to be so determined to kill it.

  “Do you know how many of those four-hundred-forty men who appealed to the US Court of Appeals and lost, went on to file a writ of habeas corpus, lose, appeal to the Supreme Court, lose their case, apply for clemency that was not granted, then hope for a presidential pardon?”

  She stood abruptly, spun away from the table and tried to beat the number four-hundred-forty out of her head.

  “Do you know how much money it would cost to have Nelson represent me through all of those appeals and filings and delays and witnesses and expert fees?”

  She turned on him. “I don’t care about the money! I care about you. But you … you act like you’ve given up.

  “Mac…” She sank back down on the chair, pleaded with him through misty eyes. “Don’t do this. Don’t give up. Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on us.”

  He exhaled a frustrated breath. Shook his head and restated for emphasis,

  “Four-hundred-forty. And you think I’m going to be the first guy who bucks up against military charges and wins? Rachael. I’m trying to be sensible here. I’m trying to make you understand both my future and yours.”

  “No!” She pounded the table. Beyond angry. Beyond disappointed with him. Way beyond scared out of her mind that he was right. “You’re a fighter. You’ve always fought for what was right. For what you believe in. Since when do you throw in the towel before the game’s barely begun?”

  He was quiet for so long, she thought he didn’t have an answer. But when he met her eyes, she knew that he did. And that she wasn’t going to like it.

  “What if I did it?”

  She drew back in shock. “No. I … I’d never believe that.”

  “What if we pay some shrink to hypnotize me and he gets me under and I remember? And what I remember is that I killed him?”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “We don’t know that.” He looked so weary.

  “Do you think you could have done it?” she asked point blank. “In a million lifetimes, do you think you’re capable of killing a man in cold blood?”

  “If it mattered what I thought, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Answer me!” Her outrage had her shaking but she held her ground. “Do you think you could have done it? Yes or no?”

  “No,” he said finally but without the conviction she needed.

  “Then you’d better start acting like you’re innocent. You’d better start caring because this is not just about you! This is not just about your life! It’s my life. And Addie’s. Our life,” she stated emphatically. “I’m not giving up on it and by God you aren’t either!”

  He was quiet for a very long time before he abruptly stood. “I don’t think you should come back here, Rachael.”

  Without another word, he asked the guard to take him back to his cell.

  Chapter Nine

  “What’s this?”

  Rachael sat cross-legged on the sofa with her laptop cradled on her knees. She turned her head to see Ian looking over her shoulder. He’d stopped on his way to the toy box in the hall closet, an armload of Addie’s toys pressed to his chest.

  “A website. familysecrets.life.”

  “Sounds … intriguing?” The skepticism in his tone made her smile.

  “They offer advice. Counseling. Personal problem-solving, I guess you call it without having to sit in a shrink’s office and weep into a tissue. Cassie told me about it.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his sigh told her he was troubled.

  “You have something to say?”

  “Maybe some counseling might not be such a bad idea,” he said after putting away the toys and sitting down beside her. “You’re dealing with a lot.”

  “Well, there’s the key word. I’m dealing. Guess that’s the main point. I’m handling it.”

  “Better than Mac.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I’m not the one facing a murder charge.”

  He closed his eyes. “But you’re the one facing the press and the fall out.”

  She glanced at him. Knew he was speaking out of concern for her and softened her tone. “I’m doing okay, Ian. And you’re part of the reason. I know … I know I’ve said it before but I don’t know what I’d have done without you these past few weeks.”

  And she couldn’t believe she was talking in terms of weeks. It seemed alternately as though it were yesterday and a decade ago that Mac had come back from Afghanistan, facing a criminal court-martial.

  Christmas had come and gone. Only for Addie’s sake had she put up a little tree and made a fuss about Santa. And only because of Ian, had she managed to squeeze some semblance of holiday spirit out of what felt more like a life sentence of loneliness, separation, and pain. She didn’t know how he’d managed it but Ian had gotten stationed at Ft. Riley. Just so he could be close to help them out. Which made her feel more and more indebted to him every day. The problem was, he’d become such a fixture in their lives, she honestly didn’t know what she’d do without him.

  All those things Mac used to do – making sure the oil was changed in the SUV, shoveling the snow, even taking out the garbage – Ian took care of for her. Little and big things, he’d made her life more livable. And she loved him for it.

  She closed down the website and the cryptic message that was posted on the home page. Belief in others. Trust. Betrayal. Casualty. She didn’t want to apply any of those words to her and Mac’s situation.

  But it was difficult not to.

  “You can always talk to me.” Ian rolled his head to the side and smiled at her. “And you can be angry, you know. You have every right.”

  “Angry?”

  “At Mac.”

  She powered down and set the laptop aside before she spoke again. “I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be angry at him but …”

  “But he’s given up? He’s shut you out? And it ticks you off. Hell, it ticks me off!”

  His face grew dark with anger. This was Ian’s best friend they were talking about, not just Rachael’s husband. And she knew how disappointed Ian was in Mac for shutting him out too.

  “Maybe his request to see us means he’s had a change of heart.” It was wishful thinking. Desperate thinking.

  Ian pinched his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Maybe,” he said without any real conviction behind the word.

  And why would he think otherwise. Mac had refused to see her, or Ian for that matter, for over a month.

  I don’t think you should come back here Rachael.

  That was the last time she’d talked to him. The last time she’d seen him. Mac had made sure that she didn’t come back. She’d been heartbroken when he’d taken her name and Ian’s off his visitors list. For thirty-four long days, she’d been fourteen miles away from him. Fourteen miles that felt like fourteen thousand miles because he wouldn’t allow her to visit him.

  After the disbelief and the shock had settled, after her failed appeals to Dillon Nelson, Mac’s attorney, and even to the prison chaplain to try to convince Mac to let her see him, Rachael finally admitted to herself that he may have given up. May have written himself off and with that act, written them off, too.

  That didn’t mean she’d given up, though. She’d been busy. When she wasn’t working or being a mom to Addie, she’d been digging. Digging into every name on the list of platoon members who’d been with Mac in Afghanistan. She hadn’t turned up much; frankly, she hadn’t turned up anything that would indicate one of them would have been the killer.

  She’d e-mailed, texted, called. They all spoke about Mac with glowing respect. Anyone deployed with Mac spoke nothing but praise and disbelief about the charges. She hadn’t managed to reach all of them but she’d worked her way through over half the list and she wasn’t stopping until she tracked them all down.

  Someone had to have a secret. Every family had secrets whether it was a blood family or a military family. She just needed to keep looking until she uncovered a secret that might clear her husband’s name. To be safe, she’d turned all of her contact notes over to Dillon Nelson. Maybe he’d see something she didn’t.

  Someway, somehow, they had to uncover the truth. Someone had killed that man and they’d set Mac up to take the fall. They just had to find out who it was.

  As for Mac, she’d emailed him daily since he’d cut her out of his life. Sometimes she’d send pictures of Addie, sometimes local news, always hope. But he never answered. Not once. Until this afternoon.

  Her heart had leapt when she’d seen the email from the prison. One brief succinct e-mail that had been forwarded to her from Mac.

  “I need you to come tomorrow. Bring Ian with you.”

  She’d secretly hoped that Mac had had a breakthrough. That he’d remembered something. That he knew who hit him. Who had killed that poor man. And he was ready to finally launch a defense for himself.

  New life and new hope sprang from the anticipation of seeing him. And as she and Ian headed for Leavenworth the next morning, it was all she could do to contain her excitement.

  When the heavy metal door to the maximum-security visiting room opened, Mac knew who would be on the other side.

  Rachael. His wife. His lover. His friend.

  And she wouldn’t understand.

  It didn’t matter. He needed to do this. Was ready to do this. Had been resigned to do it for over a month now.

  And yet, his gut felt knotted tight at the thought of telling her.

  It wasn’t as though anything had changed this morning. Not for him. He was committed.

  But the difference was, this wasn’t a dress rehearsal. This wasn’t him alone in his cell, rehearsing what he had to say. Trying to find the exact combination of words that would make her understand.

  This was the real thing.

  That’s what today was about. Making certain Rachael would reach the resignation phase too.

  She was here because he’d asked her to come. Ian was here, because Rachael was going to need him to lean on.

  Mac drew a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

  He looked at his hands again as the door closed behind them and Eagan positioned himself against it.

  “Remember the rules. No touching.”

  Yeah. No touching. Ever again.

  Mac steeled himself. He could not go there. He absolutely couldn’t think of his daughter and his wife and his lost life if he was going to accomplish what he intended – what he needed – to accomplish today.

  With a bracing breath, he forced himself to meet Rachael’s eyes. “Look. I’m … I’m sorry that I asked you to come out here.”

  “It’s a fifteen-minute drive, Mac. Don’t. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me.”

  She wanted everything to be all right. She wanted him to tell her he missed her. He missed Addie. He would fight to get out of here and come home.

  He did miss them. He missed them so much his heart and his gut and his soul, ached with wanting them. Bone deep. Blood thick.

  But he couldn’t tell her that.

  “Rach...” God. Saying her name made his voice sound ragged and scarred. He glanced at Ian who looked away, his eyes hooded. He knew. Ian understood. But he didn’t like it.

  “Rach,” Mac started again, resolved to finish it and end everyone’s misery. “I asked you to come because nothing I’ve said or done so far – not my silence, not taking you off the visitors list, not ignoring your mail – has gotten through to you.”