Chapter Five

“No, Kathryn dear. The boy has been kidnapped, but not by me.”

Ben noticed again the peculiar distance of speech Ket employed when referring to his son. Standing lazily, the other man placed his whisky glass on a side table and reached into his pocket to produce a folded piece of cheap paper. He was obviously enjoying the drama he was generating, and yet both Kathryn and Ben were transfixed by his performance as he shook the paper open and handed it to Ben.

As he took it, Kathryn rushed over to read over his shoulder and Ben was uncomfortably aware of the sensations her nearness evoked. He glanced at her and saw her face go even whiter as her trembling lips moved over the words:

I have your son. It will cost you $5 million to get him back alive. He will be dead if you bring in the police.

Ben swore under his breath. The words were crudely formed, clipped from newspapers and magazines, but the medium lost none of the sinister message. “Why didn’t you come to the police immediately?” He glared at the other man.

“Isn’t that the last thing you should do with a kidnapper? You’ve read the note,” Ket spoke lazily but his tone dripped malevolence. “See, Kathryn, you may have killed little Alex by running to the Sheriff—sorry, Acting Sheriff—for help.”

Kathryn flinched at his cruelty but her chin went up and her eyes flashed at her husband as she spat at him, “You bastard! Why didn’t you tell me about this? When did the note arrive?”

“It was on the driver’s seat of my car when I came back from paying for the gas.”

“But you told me Alex had wandered away!” Kathryn cried.

“Because I knew you’d make exactly this kind of hysterical fuss.”

Ket Morgan rose lazily and strolled toward the door.

Turning with stricken look to Ben, Kathryn said, “My god, Ben, you’d better get out of here. What if they’re watching? They’ll think we brought the police in—”

“Morgan!” Ben’s voice whipped through the air. For a moment he thought Ket would continue walking from the room, but the other man stopped at the door and turned.

“Have you made any arrangements to pay this ransom?”

Ket laughed, a harsh sound in the room. “A muffled voice called a couple of hours after I got home, wanted to make arrangements for payment. I told him—or her—to go to hell.”

“Let me get this straight…you believe your son has been kidnapped. You’ve had a ransom note. You’ve not contacted the authorities, and you’ve told the kidnappers you won’t negotiate.”

“Frankly, Sheriff Asher, I don’t care what happens.” Ket Morgan turned and walked from the room, leaving Ben staring after him in amazement. How could a man be so cold, so callous to the fate of his own flesh and blood? And no matter what difficulties the relationship was undergoing, surely the man should be supporting his wife at a time like this?

Ben switched his attention to Kathryn, who had walked unsteadily toward a chair and sat down carefully as if she were a hundred years old.

****

She was trying her best not to cry. She wouldn’t cry in front of Ket, and she would be damned if she’d let Ben see how weak she was. Even so, her stomach cramped at the thought of her small son alone with strangers. Alone and frightened.

“We have to find him, we have to get him back.” She glared at Ben as if somehow her very determination would spark a response from him.

“First of all, you’re going to have to tell me why your husband is behaving like this.”

Kathryn drew in a sharp breath. How could she possibly explain all this to Ben? What words could she use to convey the nightmare her life had become, the sense of burning shame within her that she’d made this choice? There was no way she could bear to see the contempt in his eyes when he saw how trapped she was, like a fox in a leg trap. But, like that fox, she’d be capable of gnawing off her own leg for the sake of her son. If she had to, she’d bear the humiliation.

“What the hell is wrong with this family?” Ben exploded. “There’s a missing child whose parents are too busy fighting between themselves to co-operate with law enforcement in finding him. Dammit all, Kathryn, it seems neither of you can say for sure the boy is really missing!”

His anger sparked her own. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Ben Asher! Especially not now, not when…”

“Not when what, Kathryn?” His voice was gentler and he moved to stand beside her, close enough so she could smell the clean masculine scent of him that shone through the light citrus aftershave she remembered so well. She swallowed, then stood to face him. He didn’t step back, even though there were just inches between them.

She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them, but even so her voice sounded cracked and dry to her own ears. “Not when I need you. Need your help.”

She needed more than that. She needed Ben to take her in his arms, to kiss her; to let her taste his mouth and find out if it was as magical as her heart remembered. But she was another man’s wife and the hard planes of his face told her without words that he would never forgive her betrayal. Kathryn sighed and began to turn away, but his next question stopped her.

“Why? Why is your husband acting like this? Why do you think he’d kidnap his own son to punish you?”

“Because of the other night, when he saw us.”

“Saw what? A moment’s dancing? A drunken, meaningless kiss?”

Kathryn swallowed down her hurt. Her cheeks burned as she glared at Ben. “My husband would do anything to hurt me. He’s been afraid, since you came back, that I might leave him.”

“And why the hell would he think something like that? You made your choice years ago. I was just a pleasant diversion on your road from rags to riches!” Ben sneered openly.

She glared at him a moment longer, then slowly sank back into her chair. “Think what you like, Ben. It doesn’t matter. But you have to help me find Alex!”

“Why? It looks to me as though your husband does have your son. He certainly doesn’t seem as concerned as a man should if he truly believed his son was kidnapped.” He turned his back on her, making for the door as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her.

His hand had scarcely touched the doorknob before she whispered, words that would hold him. “You have to help because Alex is your son.”

She hadn’t meant to tell him, certainly not like that. When she first knew she was pregnant, she’d daydreamed about how she’d tell him, how his face would light up with joy and love. She imagined him holding her tenderly, his face alight with wonder as the two of them made plans for their little family.

But then he hadn’t come back. The dream had shattered around her as she came to terms with the fact Ben Asher must not have cared about her. She was just a bit of fun to pass the time before he moved on to greater things. She’d had to make a decision about her own future, alone. So when Ket Morgan had made his proposal, it had seemed like the answer to a prayer.

Now Kathryn prowled around her fine living room, filled with restless anxiety as she remembered the look on Ben’s face. Not joy, not wonder, but disbelief and contempt. He’d looked at her for what seemed an eternity, then turned on his heel and left without a word. But she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She had to find Alex. The child was all she had left.

****

Ben’s hand shook as he guided the sheriff’s four-wheel drive out of town and into the sparsely populated countryside. His fists were clenched on the steering wheel and the magnificent views of the town and the ocean might have been the sketchy scrawls from a child’s picture book for all their beauty moved him. His gut was still tight with shock. If—and it might be a big if—Kathryn was telling the truth, then he’d been a father for seven years. Surely, somewhere deep inside himself, he would have known?

If a tiny scrap of his own flesh and blood existed on this earth—grew, walked, ran, played, laughed, and cried—somewhere in the cosmos, surely there should have been an echo within his own heart?

For the first time in his adult life, Ben wished he could give in to tears. To cry out his sorrow for all the lost years, years he should have had with his son. All those years of firsts…first steps, first words, first school day, first sports. Kathryn had robbed him—and the child—of those times.

Could he believe her? Was her son really his child, or was this just another trick of a desperate woman? If she was telling the truth, it made sense of why Ket Morgan, Junior was so unconcerned about the missing child. Why would he worry about the fate of another man’s son?

Or maybe he and Kathryn were locked in one of those crazy games some couples played, hurting and taunting each other as a substitute for love. If Kathryn hadn’t loved Morgan, why had she married him and borne his child?

One thing was sure; Ben Asher had no intention of letting her break his heart twice. He made up his mind to have DNA tests done as soon as possible to put his mind at rest about the paternity of Kathryn’s child.

If he didn’t get this settled soon, he might just begin to love the kid. And then he’d be in a world of hurt if he was later proven not to be the child’s father.

The car radio burst into life and he was needed at an accident scene. With a sigh, Ben put the cruiser into gear and moved off to do his job. But he couldn’t leave those whirling thoughts behind.

He wouldn’t let Kathryn break his heart a second time. If Alex Morgan was really his son, he would sue for custody. And he would no compunction about doing so.

He didn’t doubt he’d win, not after Ket Morgan was exposed as a criminal, and his wife an ineffectual mother who couldn’t even protect her own child and had willingly brought him up in such a home.

Ben hardened his heart to the knowledge of the pain his actions would cause Kathryn. He thought she truly loved the boy. But then, he’d thought she truly loved him.

****

The little boy awoke in the darkened room, and for a moment, thought he was back home in his own bed. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark and his heart plummeted. All his books, his toys, his warm blankets, and his superman nightlight were all gone. He had no idea where he was, but his own bed had never felt so cold and damp. What little he could make out in the gloom showed walls of dingy, cold-looking stone. His room with the spaceship wall paper had never smelled so musty and dirty.

“Momma?” he ventured the whispered plea. But his mom didn’t come and put her arms around him, like she always did when he awoke in the night from a bad dream. She’d talk to him in her lovely, soft voice and he’d fall asleep again still smelling the comforting scent of her perfume as she stroked his hair. He was safe when his momma was there, even though Daddy said he was a baby to want his momma so much.

He shivered a little at the thought of his daddy. No matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn’t seem to please him. He thought his daddy didn’t like him much, not the way his friends’ daddies liked them, played with them, and were happy to tell their friends about the things they did with their sons, like football and fishing.

Alex knuckled away the tears that had formed in his eyes. This was no bad dream, and his momma wasn’t coming. Daddy sure wasn’t coming. Daddy would be angry with him, as he always was. He had to be a big boy now. He had to find his own way home.