Page 24 of Beckett

He was too close to the truth. Too close to breaking through walls I’d built from necessity and mortared with fear.

“Try again with Chaos,” he said, offering the kitten once more. “Sometimes the second attempt goes better.”

This time when I reached out, I moved slower. Let Chaos smell my fingers first. He hissed, but with less conviction.

“That’s it,” Beckett murmured. “Let him come to you.”

Chaos sniffed suspiciously, then delivered a lightning-fast swipe that caught my knuckle.

“Ow.” I pulled back, blood welling from a thin scratch.

“Welcome to the club.” Beckett’s smile was real. “He only attacks people he’s considering trusting.”

“Weird trust-building exercise.”

“The best ones usually are.”

We stood there in the afternoon sun, a tiny orange kitten between us, and I felt that pull again—the dangerous urge to trust, to tell him everything.

“I should go,” I said.

“Wait.” His voice stopped me. “Before you go—I meant what I said. About feeling like I know you. There’s something familiar…”

I froze, caught between the door and his searching gaze.

“I need to tell you something.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. If I didn’t say it now, I never would. And maybe, just maybe, if he knew about Todd, he’d stop digging into the rest. “About why I came here. Why I knew your name.”

He waited, patient as he’d been with Chaos.

“My brother.” My voice cracked on the word. “He knew you. Served with you briefly.”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Your brother was military?”

“No. Well, yes, before. But then he was a cop. In Portland.” I forced myself to meet his gaze, to watch recognition dawn. “Todd Cartland.”

The change was immediate. Beckett went absolutely still, that predator stillness I’d noticed before. But now I understood it better. That was how he processed shock.

“Todd.” He said my brother’s name like a prayer. “Jesus. Your Todd’s sister. I haven’t heard from him in…”

“In at least eighteen months.” The words were hard to get out. “I know that for sure.”

His jaw tightened. “He died.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded. “Car accident.”

The kitten mewed, picking up on the sudden tension. Beckett looked down at Chaos like he’d forgotten he was holding him, then back at me with something broken in his expression.

“I didn’t know.” His voice came out rough. “I should have known. Should have—Christ, Todd’s dead?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“And you’re—you’re his sister. The one he talked about. The one who loved hiking and scuba diving.” He stopped, shook his head. “That’s why you’re in Garnet Bend. Because of Todd.”

“He mentioned you,” I whispered. “Said you were good people. Said this land was beautiful. He always planned for us to visit together.”

Beckett stared at me like he was seeing me for the first time, cataloging features that suddenly made sense.

“Todd’s sister,” he repeated. “God, I can see it now. The eyes. The way you tilt your head when you’re thinking. He did that too.”