Final Verdict. Jessica Patch R.

a deafening clang. Dirt and grime exploded into a cloud surrounding them.

      Pieces of metal busted loose and flew across the shop; Beckett covered Aurora’s head with his strong arms, shielding her from debris and motor parts. A metallic and dirty taste coated her tongue and gagged her. She pinched her mouth closed.

      Her entire body shook, but he continued to guard her, his arms like a mighty fortress, and nothing in this entire world could get past them to hurt her. With her belly to the floor, she coughed and shifted, peering up at Beckett. Amber eyes stared into her face, pupils dilated, his breath puffing against her nose and lips.

      “You saved me.”

      “Barely,” he rasped, and brushed a thumb across her cheek. He held it up. Grime had streaked her cheeks. “Did I hurt you?”

      “No.” Her head swam. Fear. Adrenaline. And something she didn’t want to acknowledge.

      He held her gaze a beat longer than what might be appropriate, then lifted his weight from her. “Stay here.” He drew his weapon and bounded up the stairs, disappearing.

      Aurora sat up, drew her knees to her chest and hugged them. On the floor lay a shattered engine and a pile of chain that had once held it in place. Could it have been faulty? A coincidence? An accident? She couldn’t control her quaking, not even when she bit down on her bottom lip and gripped her knees tighter.

      “The back door up here is open. The stairs and surrounding area are clear, but those creaks weren’t the building settling and popping. Someone was here. Watching. Listening.” He pointed to the tall row of tool chests. “Maybe taking cover from behind there.”

      Aftershock rippled through her muscles.

      He grabbed a portion of the chain on the concrete. “It’s been cut. And it’s greasier than it should be.”

      “But it was directly above us. How did we not see someone standing up there cutting through a metal chain? Let’s say someone did lube it to cut down on noise—we’d still have seen him.”

      “True.” Beckett skimmed the area with narrowed eyes, then picked up a hacksaw from a tool chest. “But if he knew we’d be coming in here, he could have cut through it halfway while we were across the street.”

      “But there’s no guarantee I’d be standing under it. That it would even fall while we were here.”

      Beckett’s expression darkened. “Except he stuck around long enough to make sure. It’d only take one finger to give it a little push. That was most likely the creak we heard.” He tromped down the metal stairs. “We were either followed, someone knew we’d come here, or your girl Darla might not think Richie is so innocent, after all.”

      “It wasn’t Darla. She would never make a calculated move like that.” Although she would have known she could cut halfway through the chain before they got there, and she did have a good idea they’d come into the garage, which is why she’d secured the keys for them. She could have come up the back stairs and given it the final push. But that was a major stretch.

      “Don’t be so quick to declare her innocent, Counselor. I know it’s your job—”

      “Don’t go there.” She met his menacing challenge. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

      “Well, let’s go talk to her, shall we? Maybe she called someone and innocently mentioned you were here.”