Chapter Fourteen

Kathryn pressed the end button on her cell phone. Why isn’t Benjamin picking up? She frowned. Panic nipped at her fingertips. She drew in a deep breath. Stay calm. Maybe he got tied up with Peter. That’s all. She’d run to the office and probably find both Benjamin and Peter. Then she could share the news about the stash of drugs in the warehouse.

As she crossed the parking lot to the plant, the cool autumn day suddenly felt cooler. She rubbed her arms briskly through the fleece of her jacket. Still, she shivered. Nothing could dispel the ominous cold permeating her bones.

They found drugs in the warehouse. She couldn’t wrap her head around that. The gravel slipped under her feet as she picked up her pace. She had to find Benjamin.

When she entered the eerily silent plant, anticipation charged the air. Her stomach clenched as a familiar apprehension stole over her. She pushed her purse strap up on her shoulder and held it tight. Every move she made seemed to be in slow motion. Disjointed. As if she were standing outside her body watching the events unfold. She tried to shake the feeling but couldn’t. Mentally, she scolded herself. She was crazy. Her disquiet stemmed from the events in the warehouse. Nothing more.

She let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and rounded the corner. There, at the base of the office stairs, lay Benjamin. A scream rose and stuck in her throat. A hush surrounded her. Time reversed direction. Ten years ago. A pool of blood forming under his body. So much blood.

“Daddy,” she screamed. But no words escaped her mouth. Her legs went to jelly underneath her. The pine smell of her father’s shed assaulted her nose. His blood-soaked gray hair. His eyes staring at her. Unseeing.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t you see? Why didn’t you save me?

She covered her mouth, stifling a sob. The sounds of her own anguish snapped her back to the present.

“Benjamin…” Fine tendrils of panic coiled around her heart, squeezing. She closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees. “Benjamin,” she said louder, her voice high pitched. With a shaky hand, she touched his blood-soaked hair. Under the palm of her hand, she felt his chest rise. Then fall.

Dizzying relief flooded her. He’s alive.

“Hold on. Hold on,” Kathryn pleaded, lacing his cold fingers with her own. “I’ll get help. Hold on.” She smiled through the tears, needing him to hear reassurance in her voice.

She pivoted on her knees. She had to get her purse, her phone. After struggling with the clasp, she dumped the contents. Her cell phone spilled onto the black floor. With her one free hand—she didn’t dare release his, it was the only connection, however tenuous, she had to him—she seized the phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Seconds seemed like hours as she waited for help. “Hold on, Benjamin.” She stroked his hair, pushing it from his forehead, focusing intently on this simple action.

His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

“I’m here. I’m here.” His skin felt moist to her touch.

She held his hand, uttering encouragement until help arrived. Even when the EMTs started working on him, she was reluctant to let go.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked as they lifted him onto the stretcher.

“We’ll do everything we can.”

The men hustled out the back door of the plant, pushing Benjamin’s still body. Kathryn stood motionless. Numb.

Will I lose every man I ever love?

The thought had barely crossed her mind when its full meaning hit her. She loved Benjamin. She loved him. Now she might never get a chance to tell him.

A chill permeated her bones, making her teeth chatter. She wrapped her arms around her middle and sent up a silent prayer.

“I’m sorry, Kathryn, but you’re going to have to step back,” Officer Gavin said as he tied crime scene tape to the metal railing then back around to a nearby column.

In a daze, she complied. The tail end of the yellow tape flapped in the circulating air, gently licking the metal rail, taunting her. Reminding her again of her father’s last day on earth.

Kathryn bent down and grabbed her car keys from the oil-stained floor. Leaving the rest of her purse’s contents where they had fallen, she spun around and ran to her car.

Unlike ten years ago, now she had time.

God, please let there be time.

 

Kathryn sat on the edge of her seat in the waiting area outside the operating room, her hands clenching the cool wooden arms of the chair. She had raced down to Midport Memorial Hospital, blowing every stoplight, arriving shortly after the ambulance carrying Benjamin. The staff had already whisked him from the emergency room to surgery.

She longed to see him. See with her own eyes he was living, breathing. If he is. She immediately banished the thought from her mind.

Her stomach hurt. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt.

She had to cling to hope.

Benjamin’s family. She should call his family, but she didn’t know how to reach them. Call Peter. Yes, Peter. Let him know what had happened. He’d know how to get in touch with Benjamin’s mother.

With a sense of purpose, Kathryn rode the elevator down to the lobby, past the sign that read No Cell Phones Allowed and outside into the fresh air. She called Peter’s number. As the phone rang, her mouth went dry. She wondered if she’d be able to speak. When the answering machine kicked on, an odd sense of relief washed over her. She hung up without leaving a message.

Maybe it was better this way. She’d be able to call when she had more news. Good news.

Without any memory of the trip, Kathryn found herself in the third-floor waiting room again. She leaned back on the chair, upholstered in a sturdy brown corduroy fabric. She wondered how many other poor souls had sat here, bracing themselves for news of their loved ones.

She closed her eyes and said a prayer. She couldn’t lose him. A warm hand touched her shoulder. Her eyes popped open, her vision blurred. It took a moment to recognize a familiar face.

“Peter, oh, Peter.” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened under her embrace. Or maybe she imagined it. “Thank you so much for coming. I tried to call you.”

“I heard what happened. How is he?” Peter’s bloodshot eyes darted around the waiting room.

Kathryn shrugged and swiped at a tear. “He’s in surgery.”

He raked a hand across his ruddy face and sat back down. Her heart went out to him. The hospital must remind him of his precious daughter, Amy. He had spent countless hours in the hospital—this very hospital—before she died. New tears burned the back of Kathryn’s eyes when she thought of her childhood friend.

“Is Benjamin awake? Has he talked to anyone? What are the police saying?” Peter asked a barrage of questions, nervously pacing the small space.

Kathryn frowned and shook her head. “He’s in surgery. The police talked to me briefly at the plant. They suspect foul play.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and met Peter’s shifty gaze. “Who would have done this to him?”

Peter slid into the chair next to hers and patted her knee. “I have no idea.” His voice sounded brittle. Kathryn covered his hand, taking comfort in the small gesture.

“He’s going to be okay,” she said, more to assure herself than him. Peter sat motionless. She stared straight ahead and wondered if the juvenile artwork of drooping tulips in a lopsided vase was supposed to cheer her up.

When her dad died, she never had the hope of surgery. He had expired—a technical term conjuring up images of sour milk or spoiled yogurt, not her father’s untimely death—an hour or so before she found him, or so she was told. She had counted back to the estimated time of death. She must have been arriving at the lake when… She tried to shake the image of her father’s last moments. If only she had been more concerned with her father than her friends. With Benjamin.

Yet life had continued to go on despite her searing pain.

Please, God, let life go on for Benjamin.

She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of imagining a future with Benjamin, now all she could do was imagine how dreadful the world would be without him in it. She couldn’t sort out her emotions now. She just needed to know he’d be around. Somewhere. Even if they weren’t together.

A man in light blue scrubs entered the room, lifting his surgical mask. Kathryn held her breath. Let him be okay. Let him be okay.

“Miss McNabb?” the man asked.

Kathryn nodded her head once. Her heart beat wildly. She recognized this as one of those life-defining moments.

“I’m Dr. Molline. Benjamin is out of surgery. He’ll be in recovery awhile, but he’s fine. He’s got a nasty gash on his forehead and a fractured arm. It took us a while to set.”

A whoosh of breath escaped her lungs. “He’s going to be okay?” Tears poured down her cheeks.

“Yes.” Dr. Molline smiled. “His arm should heal nicely. He hit his head pretty good on the way down. We’ll have to watch him closely because of the concussion. He might have a scar, but it’s close to the hairline.”

Kathryn hugged the physician. She could handle scars and broken arms. A concussion even. Benjamin is going to be fine. “Thank you,” she breathed into the soft cotton of his scrubs. “Thank you.”

She took a step back and turned to Peter to share her elation. He sat expressionless, staring at the blue-gray industrial carpet.

“Did you hear that, Peter? Benjamin is going to be okay.” Her heart filled with joy. He’s going to be okay.

“When can I see him?” she asked.

“Around six or so. He’s still sleeping. Why don’t you get something to eat and come back?” The doctor patted her arm then turned and left.

Peter had moved next to her and reached for her hand. “That’s just great. He’s going to be okay.” The flat tone of his voice gave her pause, but she shook it off, chalking it up to stress. They had all been through a lot.

 

 

Peter quickly assessed Benjamin’s hospital room. He had to act. He could no longer stand back and watch. He didn’t have time. He had convinced Kathryn to go home to rest, but she could be back any time. A metal pole draped with bags of fluids stood at the edge of the bed. A smarter man would have known what drug to inject into the bags for a clean death. No traces. But he wasn’t that smart.

He smiled ruefully to himself. The smart thing would have been to avoid this situation in the first place. He swore when he got himself out of this jam, he’d take his family and move away. Far away. Change names if necessary.

Nobody could tie the drugs to him. He had been careful.

Nobody except Benjamin.

He glanced toward the door. He couldn’t do anything that would draw the guard’s attention. His eyes locked on the fluffy white pillow supporting Benjamin’s head.

Smother him. His heart kicked up a notch. What other choice did he have?

He swallowed hard. This killing business wasn’t him. It was never supposed to get this messy. Soundlessly, he pulled the curtain all the way around the bed. He slipped a hand under the sleeping man’s head and eased out the pillow. Benjamin didn’t stir. His breathing remained steady.

The sound of the outer door opening stopped Peter’s heart. His head snapped around.

What the…?

“Is he awake yet?” Kathryn’s voice, barely audible above the thrumming pulse in his ears, floated in from the hall as she chatted with the guard.

Peter couldn’t hear the officer’s answer. It seemed like an eternity passed while he stood frozen with the pillow positioned over his nephew’s face.

My nephew.

Gently, he lifted Benjamin’s head and replaced the pillow. A flush of dread formed a pool of perspiration under his arms. He plunged his hand through his thinning hair. He didn’t have time to pull back the curtain before Kathryn entered the room. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Peter.

“I was worried,” he said. But not for the reasons she suspected.

“Me too. I couldn’t go home. I grabbed a quick bite in the cafeteria,” Kathryn said. “How does he seem?”

“Still sleeping.” Let’s hope he stays that way.

Kathryn pulled up a chair and lifted Benjamin’s hand into her own.

“I don’t plan on leaving,” Kathryn said, “so if you want to, go home and spend some time with that little cutie of yours.”

Peter’s throat tightened at the mention of his beautiful daughter, with her dark curly hair and brown eyes, the same shade as the daughter he had forever lost.

“You’re right,” he said, spinning on his heel.

Peter Hill had run out of second chances.

 

A delicate touch to the back of her head stirred Kathryn out of a fitful sleep. It took her a minute to come to and open her eyes. A metal bar came into view—a footboard, white walls, fluorescent lighting. Her mind drifted back, recognition dawning. The hospital. Her head popped up. The hand slipped away. She turned her head. Benjamin’s eyes met hers, warming her heart.

Benjamin.

The knot in her stomach unraveled.

His fingers played with the loose strands of her hair. She stared at him in silence, wrapping herself in the knowledge he was okay. He wasn’t going to die.

Relief. Happiness. A tenderness in her heart. A swirl of emotions welled up inside her. He ran a finger along her cheek, sending twin ribbons of relief and awareness fluttering to her soul.

Kathryn stood and moved closer to him. She ran the back of her fingers across his forehead, wanting to savor this moment. She took in a slow breath then asked the question foremost on her mind. “What happened?” She searched his face. A shadow of pain descended into his eyes.

Benjamin’s brows knitted. “Peter,” he whispered, his eyes tearing, “my uncle pushed me down the stairs.”

Surprise. Confusion. Fear. All dropped like rocks in her gut. “Peter Hill?”

He nodded. “Peter and I argued. He didn’t want the K-9 unit to search the warehouse.”

Kathryn dropped into the chair. “Oh no, the German shepherd found drugs in the warehouse. Do you think Peter was involved?”

“I’ve never seen Peter so desperate,” Benjamin said, closing his eyes and wincing. “It would explain a lot.”

Kathryn briefly closed her eyes. The shock of realization hit her like an eighteen-wheeler. Prickles of panic covered her skin. “Peter was here when I arrived.”

 

 

Thirty-some hours had passed since Peter bolted from the hospital and disappeared. He was cold, tired and hungry. His only supplies—a sleeping bag and a stale box of granola bars leftover from some long ago camping trip—had been swiped from the garage behind his house before he took refuge in the woods. After he had taken care of some business.

Respite was less than fifty yards away as he hunkered down behind the trunk of a maple tree. Yesterday every Joe with a badge in town had swarmed his home. Now, in the early morning hours, everything was quiet.

Peter wrapped his sleeping bag tighter around him and closed his eyes. He could picture his wife sleeping in their cozy bed. His heart ached. His sweet wife. He had destroyed her. How would she go on? She’d never again be able to walk down the street of Midport with her head held high.

He reached into his pocket, only to find it empty. He cursed under his breath. He needed a cigarette about now. His was getting the shakes. He tossed back the sleeping bag and marched toward his home in the cover of darkness.

He knew what he had to do.