Chapter Thirteen

Ben was working on a similar logic. In his experience, while monsters who preyed on children did take advantage of opportunities which presented themselves, he thought it unlikely that such a predator would just happen to be at such an unlikely venue at such an early hour on the off chance a lone child would wander by.

Tex’s Gas’N’Eats, an unfortunate name for a cafe if ever there was one, was out on the highway far from the residential areas, making it an unlikely spot for a child to be wandering alone. But it was a truckers’ venue and so he couldn’t totally discount the possibility that some low-life had spotted an opportunity and grabbed the child while his father was paying for gas.

Nor could he discount the infinitely preferable idea that Alex…his son…had simply wandered away and, in the curious way of little boys, climbed into one of the trucks to see what was inside. The driver could have driven off without knowing he had a passenger. He’d already sent officers to question the station employees and follow up with as many of the café and gas patrons as possible. At that time in the morning, most were regulars known to Tex’s staff which should make tracing them easier.

Organizing the investigation had taken longer than he wanted, but now he was heading out along a dirt road toward Bertie Hanover’s house. He was toying with the idea of calling it a day, getting some much needed rest, and starting fresh tomorrow, when his phone rang.

What could Kathryn’s dad want with him? His gut tightened. Was there trouble at the Fitzgerald house? It was worse than he imagined.

“Kathryn’s gone off to confront that Bertie Hanover,” the older man told him. “I tried to stop her, but there was no talking to her. My girl is no match for that animal.”

A sense of urgency drove him. All thoughts of sleep gone. He’d planned to interview Hanover anyway; might as well do it and keep Kathryn out of trouble at the same time. Hanover was privy to many of Ket Morgan’s nasty secrets and might well have information about what had happened to the boy, as well as knowledge as to enemies of the family who might have taken him.

He pressed the accelerator pedal. What if he was too late? What if Kathryn had walked right into Hanover’s den? How much would the Morgan name protect her from a thug like that? He let out a string of curses, his tires throwing up gravel as he raced toward the other side of town where Hanover lived.

Without his realising it, his desire to prove the Morgans were involved in organized crime had taken a far back seat to the burning need to find his son and keep the boy—and his mother—safe.

His son. The words themselves burned into his very soul. He’d been a father for seven years, and Kathryn had hidden the fact from him until now. The thought of his own son growing up without a father seared him. He’d missed so much from Alex’s life and was determined not to miss another second of getting to know his son. When this was over he and the boy would go away somewhere, spend some time fishing or hiking—time being a father and son, getting to know one another. With a shock, he realised he was already starting to accept that Alex was his. Was that based on fact or wishful thinking?

And what about Kathryn? He had no answer to that question, and his heart ached in reply even has his body swelled with memories of holding her to him.

****

Kathryn shivered despite the fading warmth of the early evening sun pouring in through the windshield as she slowed to a stop in front of the beat-up clapboard house Bertie Hanover called home. Her fingers shook as she turned off the ignition and the enormity of what she was about to do hit her full force. It was foolish to be out here alone, and her own assertion that Hanover wouldn’t dare hurt Ket Morgan’s wife suddenly rang hollow in her ears.

Ket himself had been perfectly happy—had enjoyed—hurting his wife. Why would she expect any of his thugs to be delicate about following his example?

But she was here now and thoughts of Alex filled her with courage. She would get her son back unharmed. She had to believe that. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel alone. Her father would stand with her. She smiled to herself at the developing closeness between her dad and the Morgan’s housekeeper, Cynthia, who had befriended her when she’d first gone to live in Morgan House and had remained a staunch ally. Now it seemed as if she had taken Fitz under her wing, too.

Images of Ben Asher seeped like fine mist into her mind, and a longing deep inside unfurled in a sweet ache. If only she knew where she stood with him. She could rely on him to use all his considerable talents and unquestionable courage to find their son—that was something you could take to the bank. But Ben’s threat of seeking custody of Alex still gnawed away in the back of her mind like a persistent itch.

Kathryn forced herself to push these thoughts aside, straightening her spine and preparing for battle. She slammed the car door behind her and, spine ramrod straight, picked her way toward Bertie Hanover’s home. The house had gray cedar clapboard which looked like it was once white, but probably had not been painted in living memory. Weeds had triumphed over a few scraggly rose bushes and lilies that had once formed a front garden. The house looked abandoned, silent, and deserted. Ragged curtains were drawn over the windows and there was no sign of occupancy, but Kathryn fancied the house was lying to her.

Her skin prickled with the sense of being watched, both from the house and from the bushes that rioted on what used to be lawn between the drive and the road. Dragging in a breath, she swung around expecting to confront Hanover or one of his awful friends, but she was alone. She couldn’t see anyone lurking in the straggly bushes but some base instinct raised the hair on the back of her neck and she fought the urge to run back toward her car.

As she turned back to the house, she caught the flicker of movement, a curtain twitching and falling back into place. Fear clouded her stomach. Hanover or someone else was watching her. Mustering all her courage, she mounted the rotting porch steps and crossed to hammer with her fist on the door.

Flies droning busily around a garbage can at the end of the porch were the only ones to break the silence that followed her loud knocking. Moments passed, and Kathryn grew impatient. Every second of delay was another second her son was in danger.

She hammered with her fist against the door again, and clumps of flaking paint came away to stick to her knuckles. The door opened suddenly, as if the red-faced, beefy man had been standing right behind it all the time, listening, willing her to go away. Taking in her startled expression, a wolf-like smile spread across his face while the empty cold reflected in his eyes made her shiver.

“Why Mrs. Morgan!” He mimicked the voice of a friend at a coffee morning. “What brings a fine lady like you out to my humble abode?”

“I think you can guess, Hanover. I’m looking for my son.”

“Your son? Well, let me see…” He made a great show of looking around him and down the dingy corridor that led into the bowels of the house. His expression when he looked back at Kathryn was filled with a cruel mockery. “Nope, don’t think there’s any small boy here.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Hanover! You work for my husband, you know everything Ket does. I’m willing to bet you know where my son is.”

His expression hardened. “I do work for your husband, Mrs. Morgan, and I’m a good employee, a trusted employee. One thing I ain’t is a daycare operator. So why in hell would you think the boy was here?”

“Exactly because you are someone who’d do anything my husband asks you to do.”

“Well, kidnapping ain’t one of them. The kid ain’t here.”

“Then where is he?”

“How the fu…how would I know? “

Kathryn almost smiled at the way he’d somehow prevented himself from using the swear word in front of the boss’s wife. “I think you do know where he is. Just give me a hint, some idea. I’ll make it well worth your while and Ket will never know you told me.”

His eyebrows arched slightly upward and he gave her a long, lazy look up and down, undressing her blatantly with his eyes. Kathryn’s courage of a moment before faded before his vulpine grin. “Well now, little lady, seems to me you don’t have anything to pay me with, cash-wise that is. I know your husband keeps a tight leash on the family finances. But maybe, if you were willing to offer something else…” His eyes fastened on her breasts, then rose to her mouth. “Well, maybe we could come to some arrangement.”

“Then you do know something.”

“I know Mr. Morgan doesn’t have the kid. He’d planned just to take the boy out, frighten you a while when you came home from your catting around after the dance. He figured you were giving it out to Asher, and he wanted to be good and sure you remembered who was boss. I was to meet him at the gas station and pick up the boy, drive him around for a while. But the kid slipped out on us and that’s the truth. So, what are you going to pay me for that bit of information? Going to give me what you gave Asher, maybe?”

As he laughed, she could feel the color drain from her face at the harsh, humorless sound.

“Yeah, you always were a stuck up bitch, think you’re too good to have a little fun with a guy like me, eh? Like you said, Ket Morgan need never know. I wouldn’t tell, and I’m damn sure you wouldn’t want him to know you’d been fucking one of the staff.”

Kathryn’s breath caught in her throat. Hanover was so sure of himself now, not even bothering to watch his language. What the hell had she got herself into?

She was distracted by the thought this was all her fault. She’d taken refuge in her father’s cottage on the evening of the party at The Club, afraid to face Ket’s rage when she hadn’t gone home with him. But he thought she’d been with Ben and little Alex was paying the price.

“Oh no, it’s all my fault.” She didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until Hanover threw back his head and laughed.

“Don’t take on so, little lady. Would you like me to comfort you?” He leered.

“No, I’d like you to show me your house, prove to me my son isn’t there.” Anger shimmered in Kathryn’s voice but her words only produced another leer from Hanover.

“Sure, I’ll show you around. Why don’t we start in the bedroom?”

She wanted to slap that filthy look of his face. Just the idea of those sweaty hands touching her made the bile rise in her throat. There wasn’t time to waste here.

Kathryn stepped backward on the porch. She wished she could turn around and run back to her car but was afraid to actually turn her back on him.

“If you don’t have Alex and Ket doesn’t have Alex, then who would’ve taken him?”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but your husband isn’t the most popular man in town now, is he? Some of those lazy commie union scum who worked for him, some of them might want to snatch the kid and get even.”

“But they asked for a ransom!”

She could read on his face that this was news to Hanover, but he covered it quickly. “What? You think them commies don’t like money? Then it would have to be someone who wanted to make a bit of cash, wouldn’t it? But I wouldn’t have thought many of them jerkoffs would have the guts to try kidnapping.”

“I still want to look inside your house,” Kathryn demanded, switching the subject back quickly while she still had the courage. But she wasn’t so brave that she didn’t instinctively take a fearful step backward as Hanover, that awful leer on his red beefy face, stepped toward her. He was crowding her against the rough, wooden rail. Her nostrils filled with the smell of unwashed male and unlaundered clothes. She was sure Hanover was telling the truth for a change when he said he didn’t know where Alex was.

She was pushing her luck unnecessarily. To go inside Hanover’s house would be to invite a fate worse than death.

****

Ben stopped his car on the soft shoulder of the dirt road, about 50 yards down from the squat wooden house that had to be Hanover’s. No mailbox stood out in front to identify it, but there were no other houses on this side road for several miles and Sheriff Lawton’s directions had been explicit.

He got out of the car adjusting his gun belt and unfastening the strap, because his law officer’s intuition told him it was a situation where he might just stay healthier if he was armed.

Reading between the lines of the reports on the assaults Hanover had been charged with had turned his stomach. The victims’ injuries had been viciously and sadistically applied. Reasoning and civilized conversation weren’t always the best tools when dealing with folks like Hanover, and he knew there was nothing like having a weapon within easy reach when all else failed. He saw Kathryn’s car parked in the driveway. So she was here already. He doubted she had any idea just what she could be dealing with.

He’d deliberately left his vehicle some distance away, intending to get a good look at the lay of the land, unobserved, before confronting Hanover. He hoped for a chance to get inside the house, to get some idea as to whether the boy was there or not, something that might give him grounds for a search warrant. He was counting on the element of surprise and cursed under his breath as he noticed another vehicle parked at the far side of the road, shadowed under an overgrowth of brush.

Dammit, it looked as though Hanover had company. Noting the license plate, he wondered where one of Hanover’s buddies got the cash for such an expensive vehicle. If Kathryn had interrupted a thieves’ convention… A flash of movement caught his eye. He turned just in time to see a crouching figure run stealthily across the road from behind that stand of trees and scrub brush on the far side near the car.

The man—hard to tell at such a running crouch but he was sure it was a man—vaulted over the low fence in front of Hanover’s house and disappeared into the scrubby front yard.

Could that be Hanover himself trying to get the jump on an unexpected visitor? Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. If it wasn’t Hanover, then it was definitely someone who didn’t want their presence announced. He recalled the way his interest in Hanover’s activities had gone out over the airwaves to be heard by all, thanks to Tess, and he started to run toward the building. It was just possible his interest had sparked panic among some of Hanover’s associates and the man himself was in danger. And Kathryn was right in the middle of it!

Snatches of conversation drifted to him as he crept silently up the driveway under cover of the brush. Then he saw her, standing on the porch, crowded against the porch rail by a large, beefy man who looked like a fighter gone to seed. His heart rate rose. Any sniper worth a damn could easily take out the two of them.

****

She would be damned if she was going to take any more from a thug like Hanover. Kathryn twisted to escape but the movement inadvertently brought her body into closer contact with Hanover’s beer gut, the contact sparking another disgusting leer.

Angry now, and more than a little afraid, she put both hands on his chest and pushed him backward. The heavyset man staggered a little, throwing back his head and laughing as he steadied himself by grabbing hold of the light jacket she wore. She was startled by a loud pop from behind her, a sense of something whipping past her and then she reared back in horror as Hanover’s face disappeared in a mist of red and a bloom of crimson gore and gray brain matter appeared on the wall and window behind him.

There was a scream, a single high-pitched note of sheer fear, and some part of her mind registered that it came from her own mouth. Then a familiar voice shouted at her to get down and she obeyed mindlessly, too numb to think for herself.

Seconds like hours dragged past and she lay on the rotting wood of Bertie Hanover’s front porch, with a very dead Bertie Hanover lying only feet away from her. Don’t think of that, her mind commanded her, and she gladly obeyed, shutting out the horror that lay like a pile of discarded clothes nearby.

Running footsteps came toward her. Was the gunman making sure Hanover was dead and that there were no witnesses? She held her breath for fear of discovery, gasping and struggling when strong hands pulled her to her feet, only to collapse gratefully against the familiar wall of Ben’s chest. The world spun around her and she welcomed its promise of oblivion.

“Don’t faint on me now, baby. Just tell me if you’re hurt? I only heard one shot but…” Responding to the concern and panic in Ben’s voice, Kathryn reluctantly shook off the warm inviting blackness. Knuckling away the tears that hovered in her eyes, she shook her head.

“Thank God,” he breathed into her hair. “When I heard that shot and saw you standing there, such a target…” Ben couldn’t begin to articulate how he’d felt, it was just too close. He couldn’t put into words the way he thought his own life would end if she had crumpled dead alongside Hanover.

He had to ask himself why the thought of losing her affected him like the seismic shock of an earthquake. He shook his head to clear it; those thoughts would have to wait for another day. Right now, he had to get her away from here, get her to safety. Then he had a murder to investigate. Even a low-life like Bertie Hanover were entitled to justice under the law.

He ground his teeth. If he had arrived just a few minutes sooner, could he have stopped this? He was honest enough to admit it wasn’t anger that he might have saved a man’s life that gnawed at him, but the thought Kathryn might have been the intended target.

And if he’d arrived a few minutes later…?

Ben quickly shut down that thought.

“I’ll take you to my car and radio for help.” Taking her elbow, he steered her down the rickety steps and toward the sanctuary of the police cruiser.

She pulled back suddenly, looking around fearfully as if she expected a madman brandishing a high powered rifle to suddenly appear out of the bushes. He wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders, feeling her shivering through the silk shirt she wore.

“You’re safe now, Kathryn. I won’t let any harm come to you,” he muttered the soothing words into her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.

“What if he…he’s still here, waiting to take another shot?” Her voice shook. “He could be hiding anywhere.”

Ben knew better. This was no random murder. This had been a cold-blooded, planned act designed to shut Hanover up—permanently—carried out by a killer for hire. He had done what he came to do. Hanover was dead. The shooter would be well away by now.

Which begged the question: What information had Hanover had that made him a target for murder?

“Don’t worry about the gunman. He’s long gone. Did what he came to do and left. Professional. You’re lucky he didn’t decide to be a bit more thorough and take you out, too. What in hell’s name were you doing out here?” Panic turned to anger, threading through his voice like bright steel, and Kathryn shuddered.

“I was looking for our son. Whatever you may think or believe about me as a mother, I love our child and have to find him…even if it kills me.” There were tears in her voice and Ben was afraid for her.

“Which may well be the case if you carry on as foolishly as you are doing, putting your own life at risk. If you really love your child, you will leave this to trained officers. If he really is missing and this isn’t some sick game of punishment being played by the man you married, we will find him and bring him home.”

Ben opened the cruiser’s passenger door and ushered her inside before going around and climbing in the driver’s seat. He radioed into the police department, succinctly describing the incident and asking for backup. Then he turned to her, his face unreadable.

“You could have gotten yourself killed. You have no business being out here. I told you I’d find the boy—and I will. Now I have a murder investigation to get underway. I’m going to get you home and you better stay there or I’ll be arresting you for obstruction.”

****

Kathryn was biting her lip in an anxious tell. After she had been lied to, abused, and witnessed a gruesome murder, Ben thought he could take her silence as acquiescence. But when she turned to face him, the fury that sparked in her eyes would have been a warning to a lesser man. Instead, it excited him to see that worn, washed-out apathy that had marred her was now gone. It was replaced by pride and anger—and passion. His body reacted to that passion, heating his blood as time seemed to stand still between them.

Without conscious thought, he reached out and pulled her toward him, his hands on her shoulders as he captured her lips with his own in a kiss that reignited seven years of need and want and desire.

To his surprise she didn’t struggle beneath his touch. Instead, she clung to him, returning his kisses fiercely and hungrily.

Sanity finally prevailed as the sound of approaching sirens reached his ears, and he reluctantly pushed her away.

“We’ll finish this later,” he murmured.

She shook her head. “In your dreams, Asher. You’ll not finish anything like this with me. You’ve made your position plain and I’m not stupid enough to let you use me anymore.” Her voice was shaky, still vibrating from the blaze of passion and need his touch had inflamed. “You abandoned me and our child to sink or swim as best we could. Do you really think you can just come back and start again as if nothing had happened? And threaten to take our son away from me? What gives you the right?”

“We have to talk, Kathryn. There are things…”

“Too late, Ben. Seven years ago, we should have talked. When you came back from the war, we should have talked. Instead, you have made your feelings about me plain. Apart from today’s little power play, that is.”

“You think that’s what this was about? A power-play?” The shock rippled through his voice.

Kathryn sighed. “I don’t have time for this now, not when Alex…when Alex needs me.” She pushed open the door of the police cruiser as several officers headed toward them. Surprise at her presence made them hesitate, briefly glancing at each other before turning to Ben with questioning expressions.

“Bertie Hanover was shot dead on his front porch, just as I arrived. I witnessed the whole thing, looks like the shooter was a professional. Mrs. Morgan here is a witness. Officer Medley, I’d like you to take her home.”

He turned to Kathryn, his voice formal. “Mrs. Morgan, in view of the late hour and the ordeal you’ve just been through, I think it’s best if you go home now, provided you come into the station tomorrow and give a statement.”

It wasn’t a question, but Kathryn seemed glad to agree. Ben saw that her nerves were stretched to the limit and she couldn’t stop trembling. The need to take her in his arms again and soothe her was almost irresistible but he had a job to do. He turned to the men awaiting his instructions.

“Ma’am, if you’re up to driving, I can follow you back to town,” Medley gently took Kathryn’s arm. “That way you won’t need to come back and get your vehicle.”

****

“You say she just witnessed a shooting? Most women would be in hysterics. That’s one cool number if ever I saw one,” Officer Jesse Rigg commented.

Remembering the heat of her body against his, the searing kisses they had exchanged, Ben had to disagree. Kathryn might be cool on the outside, but deep inside, she was still the same passionate woman who’d haunted his nights over so many years.

Or maybe she was just a consummate actress.

Ben watched as the men got to work. Crime scene officers were arriving and would soon be busy on the front porch of Hanover’s house and in the bushes around the front garden, while the coroner’s van waited patiently near the gate.

His return to Lobster Cove was certainly throwing him a curved ball. Ben had expected the years would have changed Kathryn and his feelings toward her. Instead, he found they had a son together, and she still made his blood heat. He’d arrived here expecting to spend weeks on humdrum research, digging up information to support the allegations that the Morgan family were up to their necks in crime.

Instead, it looked as if he were about to be plunged into a gang war. Now he had a murder investigation to get underway, a kidnapping investigation to monitor, and a major organized crime case on the go.

Ben smiled grimly. Whoever said small towns were boring?