The Perfect Husband by Lisa Gardner Page A

much as a BB gun on your property—”
    “It's Arizona. Lax gun laws. You gotta love that in a state.”
    “I'm here to try to help you, J.T.—”
    “No, Marion, you're not. You're still doing Daddy's bidding, and we both know it.” His voice grew suddenly soft. “Why don't you ever stop by just to visit, Merry Berry? Why, with you, is it always war?”
    Marion grew suffocated beneath the neck-high buttons of her suit, and for a moment she was beyond anger.
    J.T. straightened away from the doorjamb.
    “Send the cops away. Daddy never approved of outsiders nosing around in family business. Is he dead yet?”
    “No.”
    “Too bad. Well, it was nice talking to you. We should really get together more often.”
    “I'm not leaving.”
    “I'm sorry, Marion. You know I care about you, but I have this strong allergic reaction to federal agents. No, I'm afraid I have a strict No Cops/No FBI Agents policy for my property.”
    “You are such a bastard!”
    “I used to pray that was the case, but I probably have too much of the colonel in me for it to be true. What a shame.”
    J.T.'s implacable grin told her he wasn't budging. He always had been a stubborn ass. But then, she could be stubborn too. And she had her orders. Straight from the colonel.
    “Fine. I'll check my badge at the door.”
    “And your backup band?” J.T. nodded toward the cops.
    “If you can assure us that there's no intruder inside, I'll send them on their way.”
    “Oh, the intruder's inside all right. I think the boys in blue should go on their way anyhow.”
    He smiled at her. Then he walked inside and shut the door.
    She was left standing in the broiling sun with three state troopers looking at her for guidance. She wanted to scream and she wanted to curse, but most of all she wanted to forget she'd ever met her husband.
    “Go home,” she said to the troopers. “I have the situation under control.”
    Then she knocked on the door of her brother's house and prepared for round two.
     
     
    TESS SAT ON the floor of her room, her ear pressed against the door. She'd locked it but knew from experience that the lock was too feeble to hold. She still didn't have her gun and wasn't sure what she'd do if she did. It was imperative that no one know she was there, but was she desperate enough to shoot an FBI agent to keep her identity secret?
    When she found herself thinking that she could just wound the woman, she realized she was desperate enough.
    She'd listened to the exchange in the front yard. Now she heard the woman's voice echo down the hall from the living room.
    “All right, J.T., where is she?”
    “She stepped out for a moment. I got the impression she didn't much care for the police.”
    “Oh? Doesn't that tell you something right there,
brother dear
?”
    “Only that she's spent some time in L.A.”
    “Give it up, J.T. If Lizzie Borden were alive today, she'd come to you for help.”
    Tess wanted to resent that comment but couldn't; too many newspapers had referred to her as the Bride of Frankenstein. The tabloids had even carried her supposed biography under the headline
     
SO I MARRIED AN AX MURDERER.
     
    The late-night talk show hosts had gotten in a few stingers as well.
    She didn't like to think about Jim. She wanted definitive answers and the clarity of hindsight. She didn't have that. Even after all these years the images were murky and disjointed in her mind. The press could package her story as neatly as they wanted. She'd lived it and the truth did not allow her that luxury.
    Jim Beckett had been handsome. He'd been strong. He was a highly commended police officer and a lonely man who'd been orphaned as a child. His mother had been frail, sickly, he'd told her. She'd collapsed when he was eight and his father had died in an automobile accident rushing to her side. With no surviving relatives, he'd been placed with foster parents. He'd grown close to that family, but tragedy had struck again. When he was fourteen, his foster