Chapter One

The Watcher stood silent at the edge of the property, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He blew out a slow, smoke-filled breath and flicked the butt into the night. He stomped the glowing ember with the steel toe of his work boot.

Nasty habit is going to kill me. One side of his mouth curved up. If he lived long enough.

He returned his attention to the brightly lit clapboard-covered house, watching, waiting, obsessing as he had done for the last ten minutes. As he had done for the last ten years. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the occupants—one in particular. He lingered longer than he had planned, comfortable in the knowledge no one could see him even if they had bothered to peer into the darkened backyard. And he fully expected they were far too busy with their joyous homecoming to bother.

A cool breeze whipped up from the northwest, rustling the few remaining leaves clinging to the branches above. A few leaves, their life cycle complete, floated to earth. He hated this time of year. Nothing good ever came from it. And from the looks of it, this autumn would be no exception.

She appeared in the kitchen window. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He took a small backward step toward the tree line, the jagged weeds scraping against his jeans.

Did she see me?

A silent laugh whispered past his lips. Don’t be paranoid, man. Maybe she was doing the dishes. Or getting a drink of water. It didn’t matter. As long as she wasn’t watching him watch her.

Tears filled his eyes, catching him by surprise. She wore her auburn hair long now, and even from this distance she looked good. Healthy. A smile on her face.

His jaw trembled. “Silly fool,” he whispered to no one but the shadows.

Sadness morphed to anger. A deep-seated anger. Life wasn’t fair.

Why was she still living, breathing when—

He cut the thought off. He was a complete failure. Refusing to watch anymore, he lowered his head and stuffed his cold, wet hands into his thick winter coat, glad he had left the thin windbreaker at home. The night temperature had dropped as quickly as his mood. He tucked his chin into the coat’s collar as a shiver coiled up his spine.

He turned to walk away.

The Watcher had witnessed what he had dragged himself out of his cozy, warm house to see. Kathryn McNabb had returned to Midport, New York. Now he had to make sure she left. One way or another.

Failure was not an option.

 

Kathryn swiped her badge. The light glowed green, allowing her to push through the security turnstile at Midport Industries. The young security guard barely glanced in her direction, probably engrossed in the sports page or something. To be fair, she gained access with her own badge, which she had the foresight to request prior to her return. Yet she doubted anyone expected her bright and early Monday morning. But here she was. Feeling every bit as uncomfortable as she always did when she returned to this dreadful town.

Kathryn wore her navy power suit with a white silk blouse. Not very practical for exploring a manufacturing facility, but she needed the aura of confidence the suit provided. Heaven knew her stomach was about to revolt against the tea and toast she’d forced herself to eat before she left her mother’s house.

Shoulders back and head held high, she strode down a carpeted corridor toward a set of glass doors that opened to a wide, rectangular tunnel. Its cement floor provided a perfect echo chamber for the clack-clack-clack of her heels. Her already frayed nerves went into overdrive.

Kathryn hadn’t been in Midport Industries for more than ten years, yet the tunnel—a walkway meant to protect the workers from the harsh Western New York winters—looked exactly the same. Sure, they may have slapped a fresh coat of gray paint on the walls and floor, but they used the same shade.

Her fingertips tingled as a sense of déjà vu consumed her. She slowed her pace. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear her deceased father stood a few feet away, extending his hand with a quarter pinched between his fingers. “Buy yourself a treat from the vending machine,” he would have said, a smile in his bright blue eyes.

The shift bell sounded, and the vision of Frank McNabb dissolved into the grayness surrounding her. She took a deep breath. Let it out. She could do this. She had to.

The din of moving feet drew her attention to the top of the tunnel, the entrance to the factory. The midnight shift had ended. The workers, like ants spilling over the top of a hill, surged forward, their warm beds and sleep the sweet sugar.

Not quite ready to face the mass of workers, Kathryn ducked into a small alcove where a row of vending machines lined one wall. She pretended to study her vending options while she watched all the workers departing out of the corner of her eye. Absentmindedly, she twirled a strand of hair at the nape of her neck.

She shouldn’t be hiding. She was the new owner—well, technically co-owner. But she wanted a chance to get acclimated without being inundated. She could already hear the whispers: What is she doing here? Sure her father started the company, but didn’t he…well…? No one wanted to finish that sentence. As if verbalizing the ugly truth would somehow infect their lives as it had destroyed hers.

Kathryn bit her lower lip and turned her back to the tunnel. A wire rack on the back wall of the alcove held the union newspaper. The headline read: Midport Industries for Sale. She snatched a copy from the rack and scanned the article. It didn’t contain any details, just speculation. No big surprise considering the change in ownership. It didn’t mean they knew anything. Even she didn’t know anything. Not yet, anyway.

Kathryn shoved the newspaper back into the rack. By now most of the workers were racing each other out of the parking lot. She stepped from the alcove and nearly into the solid chest of a young man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. A cloying scent of oil from the factory emanated from him.

Stopping short, she held up her palm and rocked back on her heels. Her hand flew to her chest to calm her racing heart. “You scared me,” Kathryn said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No problem,” the man said.

Something about him struck her as familiar, but his stringy brown hair dangled in his eyes, partially obscuring his face. She studied him. Her mind clicked through the possibilities.

“Kathryn?”

“Yes.” She watched as he lifted his chin and pushed his hair out of his face with a subtle flip. That’s when it registered. Most faces eventually did when you grew up in a small town. “Johnny Beck. Oh my goodness, how are you? I haven’t seen you since high school graduation.” She hadn’t seen most people in Midport since graduation.

“Fine. You look good.” He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he stepped around her to get to the vending machines. She was about to excuse herself when he discretely waved her over.

“I heard you were part owner or something,” Johnny said, then added, “with Benjamin.”

Yep, with Benjamin. Not exactly her favorite person. They had been close childhood friends until his family had betrayed hers. And that certainly didn’t make for an auspicious start to their new business relationship.

Apparently sensing he had chosen the wrong words, he cleared his throat. “I was kind of looking for you.” He flicked a glance over her shoulder toward the empty tunnel. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, revealing uncertain eyes.

“Really?” His admission caught her off-guard.

He nodded. “I heard you might be here today.”

Kathryn tilted her head and frowned. “Is nothing sacred in a small town?”

Johnny exhaled sharply, his lips forming a thin line. “Not in this town.”

Her face grew warm from his evaluating stare.

“Have time for coffee?” He leaned forward on the balls of his feet.

She glanced at her watch. “I have to work. Maybe another time.” When she took a step toward the tunnel, he grabbed her wrist.

“Please, wait.”

Kathryn met his gaze briefly before letting her attention drift to his offending hand. He released her wrist, stepping back. Red splotches blossomed on his unshaven face and neck. His jaw worked a moment before he spoke. “I’ve felt bad about your dad all these years.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. He turned his back to her and pumped them into the coffee vending machine.

“Thanks.” Kathryn stared at the coffee sputtering into the paper cup. There it was. Her father’s death. The elephant in the room. The one that always strolled in right behind her. It made for awkward conversations. Death seemed to do that. Especially one as untimely as her father’s.

“I need to go,” Kathryn said. The familiar ache of emptiness rose to the surface. She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Johnny reached for her forearm but stopped short. “I’d really like to take you for coffee.” Something in his eyes made her pause.

She gestured to the cup in his hand.

Johnny squinted at the cup of coffee as if he truly didn’t know how it had gotten there. “Not this sludge. I meant later, after work.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Please?”

Kathryn studied his face for a moment. He looked tired, drawn. What could a cup of coffee hurt? “Sure.”

Johnny glanced over his shoulder again. He seemed fidgety, certainly not a good candidate for high doses of caffeine. He took a quick sip of his coffee and grimaced as he swallowed. “I’m going home to take a quick shower, but then I’m coming back for another shift. They’re short a few guys. How about we meet at four?” His demeanor piqued her interest.

“Okay.”

The corners of his mouth curved into a weak smile. “Meet me at Café Aroma. It’s about fifteen miles north on Route 78.”

She tilted her head to study him from a different angle. “Isn’t that out of the way?”

“Good coffee.”

“It better be really good.”

Johnny chucked the nearly full cup into the trash. “Don’t mention this to anyone.”

She nodded slowly, unease working its way up her spine. “What’s this about?”

The tired smile slipped from his lips. “Don’t want my buddies to see me hanging with the new boss.” He stuffed his fists into his jeans and shrugged.

Kathryn smiled. Of course. “Afraid they might call you a brown-noser?”

“Or worse.” A hint of something she couldn’t quite name lurked in the depths of his eyes. “I’ll catch you at four, okay?”

“Okay.”

Kathryn watched Johnny exit the tunnel toward the parking lot. For some unexplained reason, she felt jittery. A sense of being watched. She glanced around. The tunnel stood empty. Its dull grayness mocking her.

You have every right to be here. Quit stalling.

Kathryn gave herself a little pep talk and started walking toward a tall flight of stairs that led to the plant floor. When she reached the top, she grabbed the railing to steady herself. Miles of overhead conveyor lined the ceiling. Each hook held a radiator core that would eventually be shipped to an automotive assembly plant. Production numbers had gone down over the years, but it had always boggled her mind that each of these cores represented a new vehicle. Were there really that many cars on the road?

She shook away the thought and closed her eyes briefly. The sights. The sounds. Nothing had changed in the ten years since she had been here. The overwhelming smell of oil carried her back to another time. A time she suddenly missed with a fierceness she hadn’t known she possessed.

Kathryn let out a shaky breath and forced herself farther into the plant. Her frustration grew when her thin heel got stuck for the third time in the rubber brick floor. What a fool to think they would have updated the floors, she mused as she bent and yanked her shoe free.

For a fleeting moment, she considered snapping the heels off her shoes. Instead, she stuffed her foot back into the shoe and scanned the area. Workstations were lined up in neat rows. The assemblers performed their jobs with practiced fluidity. Her gaze drifted from one worker to the next when she noticed a familiar profile.

Benjamin Nowak’s.

Her heart beat wildly against her ribs. Her mouth went dry. Despite the lies she told herself, she wasn’t ready to face him. Not after everything they had been through.

Benjamin turned away without seeing her, giving her a chance to observe him unnoticed. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows while holding a radiator core. He seemed to be pointing out something to the assembler in front of him. The assembler, a young woman, smiled and tossed her hair back with a gloved hand.

The vestiges of a horrible memory threatened. She shoved it away before it solidified in her consciousness.

As if in slow motion, Benjamin turned around. Kathryn wondered if he sensed her presence. She quickly dismissed the idea. She was foolish to think she had any influence over him, real or perceived.

Benjamin nodded to acknowledge her. His wavy brown hair looked thicker, his face more rugged, angular. Gone was the eighteen-year-old boy she remembered. Once upon a time, they had been friends. Best friends. They’d flirted with the idea of more. But it hadn’t worked out. A dull ache settled over her. So many things in her life hadn’t turned out as she had expected.

Kathryn fisted her left hand and dug her nails into her palm. She refused to unravel in his presence. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, the passive girl who tended to agree just to get along. And he was no longer one of the most popular kids at school. They had graduated to the real world. Yet she couldn’t deny the old emotions swirling inside her.

Benjamin approached her and extended his hand. “Morning. I’m glad you made it.” The cool expression in his eyes contradicted his greeting.

“Glad to be here.” She returned his handshake, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. Had she really expected something other than polite indifference? Benjamin had probably been blindsided by his father’s last wishes too. She certainly hadn’t expected to inherit half of Midport Industries.

“Would you like a tour?” He looked at her with a bland expression.

She spread her hands. “It doesn’t look like anything has changed.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Benjamin tipped his head toward a set of stairs leading to the second-story enclosure perched over the plant floor. Her father’s old office. Her jumbled emotions clouded her vision. She cleared her throat and strode ahead of him. She’d never imagined childhood memories of people—of places—could be so powerful.

As she climbed the steel stairs, she admonished herself to hold it together, but the warning had little effect when she opened the door and saw her father’s desk. She crossed the room and ran a hand along the desk’s mahogany edge. The distinct smell of expensive wood reached her nose, and suddenly she was eight years old and hiding under the huge desk, fancying herself a young John John. Smiling at the memory, she ran a palm across her wet cheek. She hadn’t thought of that in years.

“We can clear off that desk.” Benjamin’s words snapped her back to the moment. Every inch of the desk’s surface was covered. No doubt the Nowak family preferred to bury her father’s memory under three feet of business reports and instruction manuals.

“I’d like that,” Kathryn whispered around a too-tight throat. She swiped at her tears and turned to face him. “But—” she gestured to the desk, ”—I think we have a lot more to clear up than this.”

 

Benjamin resisted the urge to comfort Kathryn. He wouldn’t know how. He hated to admit it, but after a childhood of friendship, she had become a stranger to him. Gone were the wild curls framing her face, replaced by a neat braid with one stray strand at the nape of her neck. Her freckles had faded some. Her ready smile had disappeared.

He rubbed the back of his neck and turned his gaze from her pained expression. He shoved away his growing sense of empathy, instead zeroing in on a more familiar emotion of late.

What was Dad thinking? Willing her half of Midport Industries? Bringing her back into my life?

Walking around to the other side of his desk, he picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “I’ll call the laborers. They can move all that stuff for you.”

Kathryn nodded. With a faraway look in her eyes, she sat down and ran her hands along the smooth leather of the chair’s arms. He turned away before she could catch him watching her. When he was done with the call, he hung up. “The laborers will stop by this afternoon.”

“That will be great.” She laced her fingers in front of her and twisted her hands. “I’m sorry about your father,” she finally said.

“Thank you.” Benjamin gave her a weak smile as their gazes locked then lingered. Leaning forward, he rested his crossed arms on the desk. His father had died a month ago and the loss was still fresh. But what did she care? Something in his heart shifted. She does understand what it’s like to lose a father.

Kathryn was the first to look away. She slid open a desk drawer and seemed to study its contents. After a few minutes of watching his new office mate, he decided to get some paperwork done. They’d have to find a way to work together. At least until he could unravel his father’s will.

The high-pitched squeaking of casters brought his head up. Kathryn had slid back her chair and stood. She pushed the bottom drawer shut with her high-heeled shoe. Those must be murder on the plant floor.

She propped her hip on the edge of her father’s desk and crossed her arms. “Are we going to talk about why I’m here or are we going to pretend it’s no big deal?”

Narrowing his gaze, he tilted his head. “Trust me, it’s a big deal.” He jerked his chin toward the desk. “Being the true gentleman I am, I thought I’d let you get settled first.”

Kathryn arched one of her perfectly manicured brows. “A true gentleman? Is that why you refused to meet with me and the lawyers?”

Benjamin leaned back in his chair. “When George Nowak makes up his mind, who am I to argue?” What good would it do anyway? The man was dead.

My father is dead. An unexpected fist of grief sucker punched him. Benjamin had gotten good at compartmentalizing things and didn’t expect such a strong emotion when discussing his father’s business dealings.

“We needed to talk about a business arrangement.” An angry spark flashed in Kathryn’s clear blue eyes.

He shrugged. “What arrangement? George leaves you half the plant. You come to work here. Simple, huh?”

She blinked her eyes a few times. “Listen, I have—”

A shrill, intermittent alarm cut off Kathryn midsentence. Benjamin sprang to his feet and reached the large window overlooking the plant floor in two long strides. The harsh tones of the horns mounted outside the office pierced his eardrums.

“What the…?” A red light flashed next to the chromate wash, a process that coated the radiator cores to prevent them from rusting. The core-filled carriers swayed in place, the motion, no doubt, from the overhead conveyor’s abrupt stop.

Benjamin froze, all his senses on high alert. The stilled conveyor didn’t concern him as much as the alarm. It signaled the in-house rescue squad. The first time he had heard the alarm he’d been a teenager filling in on the assembly line. Some careless operator had reached into a press and lost a few digits. Fool could have lost his entire hand.

Remembering the bloody mess, he lifted his palm. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Benjamin descended the stairs two at a time, his right hand skimming the railing. He arrived at the wash just as Peter Hill, the plant manager, did.

“What’s going on?” Benjamin hollered over the strident noise of the alarm. He scanned the wash process and farther down the line until he noticed two men frantically trying to free the conveyor.

“Peter, call 9-1-1.”

“Done.”

Benjamin swallowed hard, tamping down the nausea clawing at his throat. He covered three metal stairs to the platform in one step. When he reached the two men, their shirts and hair were soaked. Their faces were strained and terror stricken.

Benjamin moved next to them. The horror of the situation hit him. A leg. Jean-clad. Sticking out of the wash. What the…? He grabbed hold of the icy-cold limb and pulled.

“Pull,” he yelled, his voice tight as he tried to contain his growing panic. “Pull!” The men yanked on the soaking pants, each struggling for a firmer grasp.

Benjamin glanced up. The carrier attached to the overhead conveyor rail had pinned the man’s torso against the side of the tank. The victim’s head was submerged in poisonous chemicals.

Benjamin let go of the waterlogged pant leg. He had to try something else. He yanked at the chain holding the carrier in place. As each second passed, he knew his greatest fears would be realized. The carrier didn’t budge.

He frantically hollered, “We need help. Pull,” he shouted to the two men. “Pull.” Benjamin struggled to push the carrier out of the way as the two men continued their desperate attempt to free the trapped man. The carrier lurched forward. Benjamin grabbed the side of the tank. Losing his balance, he bit back a curse. He caught himself on the edge of the tank. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He had nearly landed on top of the man. The body.

“How long has he been down there?” Benjamin’s mind raced. He had to free this guy. He had been under for too long.

“Stop, stop,” someone yelled. Benjamin kept working, his breathing labored.

Two strong hands clutched his shoulders. Yanked him back. He swung around, fist ready. Peter stood with his hands in a surrender gesture.

“Move out of the way. The rescue squad is here.” Peter directed him off the platform as two firefighters in full gear moved toward the tank.

Relegated to bystander, Benjamin leaned forward and braced his hands on his thighs, his chest heaving from the exertion. What in the world happened?

The high-pitched whir of a power tool filled the air. The firefighters cut through the metal of the jammed carrier. Benjamin straightened and plucked his wet shirt away from his skin. Maybe now they can help the poor guy. His brain was so fried he couldn’t think who was scheduled to work at that station this morning.

He scanned the area looking for Bill Summers, the supervisor of the department, when he noticed Kathryn, her stride graceful. Barefoot, she had the straps of her shoes laced in her slender fingers. She radiated a certain vulnerability. Her pale, smooth skin set off her wary blue eyes, mirroring the fear in his gut. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going home tonight.

“What’s going on?” Kathryn’s voice shook. She placed her warm hand on his wet forearm, an unexpected connection.

Benjamin shoved a hand through his damp hair. “Someone fell into the wash tank on line one.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact. Professional. But he was about to lose it. “The firefighters will get him out.”

“They will, they will,” Kathryn whispered, her voice not far from his ear, her warm hand still resting on his forearm. The simple touch grounded him.

The commotion moved toward them. One firefighter had his arms hooked under the man’s armpits, a second held him around his knees. They had freed the man. Thank God. But Benjamin still couldn’t see who he was.

The firefighters laid the victim on a stretcher and worked on him as they raced to a back exit where an ambulance waited.

Benjamin stood, frozen in place.

“Who…?” Kathryn’s whisper was hoarse. She lifted her watery eyes, met his, shared an unspoken pain.

One of the workers who had been trying to free the victim before Benjamin arrived handed him a company ID tag. “It was on the floor.” Without another word, the man turned and shuffled away.

Benjamin waited a split second. Drawing a deep breath, he looked down. A friend stared up at him. He ran his thumb across the image. His heart plummeted and he dropped his arm.

Kathryn slid the ID from his fingers and studied the photo. The color drained from her cheeks. Her empty hand flew to her mouth. “I talked to Johnny this morning.”