Chapter Sixteen

Now that she knew Ben had not abandoned her and their child, Kathryn felt as if the weight of years had fallen away. She was eager to talk some more with Ben, eager to see if what they once had together was still there. Lord knows, she knew she still loved him.

But the most important thing now was to find their child and bring him home safely.

She kept her rising temper in check all through the hours she was at the Lobster Cove police station. She gave her statement to a deferential young police officer, who nonetheless asked awkward questions about the events surrounding Bertie Hanover’s death. Then she was left alone with nothing to do except stare at the gray sky through the barred windows and wonder who had chosen the dull green paint that increased the claustrophobic effect in the small room. Cut off from the activity going on outside the room, she began to feel more like a suspect and less like a witness.

Time was passing and the more they waited the more danger there was to her son. Hadn’t she read somewhere that the chances of recovering a kidnap victim diminished rapidly after the first forty-eight hours or so? Recovering the victim alive, that is.

Nausea rose in her gullet. Sweet, funny Alex, with his affectionate ways. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of the staunch way her son had tried to stand up for her against the angry barbs Ket threw at her, the way the child’s shoulders had sagged under the burden of his father’s contempt. A burden the child couldn’t understand and wasn’t his to bear.

She’d been alone in the interview room now for what seemed like eons. Hadn’t she answered all their questions? What more could she do? If she didn’t get out of here soon and resume her search for Alex, Kathryn was sure she’d spring out of her own skin. Just sitting there, staring at the grubby marks on the table and the wanted posters on the walls, while people passing stared at her through the open door, was making her crazy.

A bitter smile curled her lips. The sight of Mrs. Ketler Morgan, Junior, trying to sit with dignity on the hard plastic chair in the police station would surely provide a feast of gossip in this small town. Not that she cared any more.

While one side of her mind was wrung out with worry about her son, the other was rejoicing in the sweet relief of knowing that Ben had never intended to abandon her. The letters he had written were full of words of love and plans for their future when he returned and finished his time in the military. He was training in mechanics, he told her, and wanted to open his own business when he was back in civilian life. His letters spoke of the home he wanted to build for them and were peppered with words that reflected their lovemaking, words that made her belly grow hot as she read them.

The long years of compromise as Ket Morgan’s wife seemed like a bad dream from which she was awakening. Her breath caught in her throat, remembering the tender look on Ben’s face as he’d listened to her story about the letters he’d written to her. Soon all these troubles to be over and they’d have time to explore all the missing years.

But first they must find Alex. Their son. Sitting in this cold room, listening to the comings and goings of law officers, the ringing phones, the complaints of citizens wanting police action was not bringing Alex home. Ben was swamped with work and responsibility. She knew he put finding Alex high on his list, but he was working on the assumption the kidnapping and Hanover’s murder were connected.

Maybe that was so, but she was darned if she could see it. And she couldn’t wait any longer for the legal machinery to grind forward. Alex couldn’t wait any longer.

She’d do whatever it took to find him.

Whatever it took to make Ben believe they could be a real family.

Family. That was a word that didn’t belong in her relationship with the Morgans. They had never regarded her as part of the family. To Ket, she was just a convenient prop to shield his other activities from prying eyes. Alex was the only reason he’d married her—a son provided him with powerful leverage with his own father.

To Ket’s father, she was little more than a brood mare who’d fulfilled her purpose in giving him an heir to ensure the Morgan name continued. Why hadn’t she taken Alex and walked out on Ket years ago? All she would have had to have done was tell Morgan Senior the truth—that Alex was no blood of his. The old man would have been furious, but it wasn’t likely he would have stopped her and the boy leaving. Far more likely, in fact, he would have ordered them gone.

With a shudder, she remembered the brutal sneer on her husband’s face, the look of cruel pleasure when he hurt her.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Morgan?”

At the sound of Tess Highland’s voice, Kathryn pulled herself back into the here and now. “Yes, yes, although a cup of coffee would be nice. Do you think the wait will be much longer?”

The secretary smiled conspiratorially. “Well, I understand Ben…er, acting Sheriff Asher asked that you wait here until he’s finished some of his enquiries, so it could be a while. He’s gone to see your husband, of course, and then to see Alfred Morris. You probably know him, the Morgan company bookkeeper? Although what he could have had to do with this, I don’t know. I guess he would have known Mr. Hanover. Maybe you’d like something to eat while you wait?”

Kathryn’s stomach clenched at the very thought of food, her senses still clouded by the visceral memory of Bertie Hanover’s head exploding just feet from her own face. “No, thank you. Just a cup of coffee would be wonderful.”

“It must have been a terrible shock for you, and such a coincidence, too…you being there when Mr. Hanover was murdered.”

Kathryn looked away. Tess had inadvertently put into words the thoughts that were zooming around in her own head. “I’d just called there on an errand for my husband,” she lied. “Yes, it was an awful shock. For Mr. Hanover, too, I’d imagine.”

Amazing at how easy it was to slip into her cool, high society I-am-Mrs.-Ketler-Morgan manner and use lies to maintain the appearance of respectability. Her attempt at wry humor was lost on Tess and didn’t do much to cover up her own feelings of unease.

Had she actually been the gunman’s target, not Hanover? Had her husband paid a killer to remove the problem of his unwanted wife?

“It must have been really horrible, seeing a man killed like that.”

Kathryn stood, grimacing at Tess’s lack of tact. “It’s not really something I want to talk about,” she said coldly. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Perhaps you’d get me that coffee?”

****

“Who does she think she is, putting on airs and graces like that? Just because she married into money, she’s still a piss-poor kid whose dad’s the town drunk. No better than the rest of us, if you want my opinion.”

“I think those are the kind of opinions you ought to keep to yourself.” Ben snapped as he came into the room just in time to see hear Tess and see her slam the coffee pot so hard onto the machine it was a wonder if didn’t break.

Tess jumped guiltily, coffee grounds spilling from the measuring cup and onto the counter.

“Look what you made me do! You shouldn’t creep up on people like that!”

Ben tamped down his irritation and grabbed a sponge from the sink. As he wiped up a few stray coffee crumbs, he commented, “There, hardly a disaster. Could you please wait five minutes and then send Mrs. Morgan in to my office? I wouldn’t mind a cup of that, when you’ve finishing haranguing the coffee machine. Oh, and Tess? It’s not a good sign when people start talking to themselves.” He started for the lunch room door.

Despite his irritation, he laughed as he heard her parting shot. “I only do it when there’s no one more intelligent to talk to.”

He’d asked Tess to bring Kathryn into his office from the interview room in five minutes, but lost track of time as the phones rang continually and deputies made reports. In the outer office, he could hear Tess in the background, answering the phone and chatting animatedly. After all, it wasn’t everyday they had a murder in Lobster Cove and no doubt everyone wanted to know what was happening.

He leaned back from his desk to stretch cramped muscles and grimaced as he heard snatches of Tess’s phone conversations. She loved a good gossip and today he thought her chitchat might actually help bring in some tips from the public about either Hanover’s murder or Alex’s disappearance. But when he glanced at the clock and realised how long Kathryn had been waiting, a tingle of unease slipped down his spine.

“Tess, didn’t I ask you to fetch Mrs. Morgan into my office? With coffee?” he called through the open door.

He heard a clatter as Tess poured coffee and the clink of cups as she headed toward the interview room. But instead of returning with Kathryn, he heard her heels clack on the corridor toward the ladies’ room.

Intuition made him get up and follow her. A glance into the interview room told him Kathryn wasn’t there. Ben drew in a sharp breath, twin emotions of anger and fear for Kathryn causing his pulse to race. With the air of a man striving for patience, he enunciated carefully, “What’s going on, Tess?”

His secretary whirled around at the door to the bathroom, her eyes frantic. “I’m so sorry boss. I think Mrs. Morgan came down here. She was looking kind of green and I thought she was maybe going to get sick.”

He clicked his teeth with impatience. “Well, why don’t you open the door and check on her? It’s not something I should do…go into the ladies’ bathroom.”

Tears stood out in Tess’s eyes. “What if she’s ill and lying on the floor and it’s my fault for not keeping track of her?”

Unable to wait longer, his heart pounding at the thought that Kathryn could be ill or worse, he pushed past Tess and flung the door open. The small room and the two cubicles were empty.

Kathryn Morgan had disappeared.

Ben glanced at the big, round-faced clock on the wall in his office. Where is Kathryn? He’d just come back from a very uncomfortable interview with Kathryn’s husband and an even more uncomfortable interview with Kathryn’s father-in-law, and he was in no mood for civilian heroics.

Dammit, when he asked the woman to do something, he expected her to do it. The last time Kathryn Morgan had ignored his orders to stay out of the kidnap investigation and let him do his job, Lobster Cove’s First Lady had wound up in the front lines of a contract killing. Now she was no doubt off somewhere playing Nancy Drew again. “Kathryn is off, probably putting her life on the line even after I told her to stay put. My secretary talks to herself and ignores my instructions. What the hell is going on here? Seems my authority quotient is at an all-time low.” Ben muttered to himself and reached out to flick on the intercom switch. Tess came in through the office door, white-faced.

“What now?” he snapped, anxiety gnawing at him even as her face turned even paler.

“I’ve called everyone I can think of, and the guys have been out cruising the streets. There’s no sign of Mrs. Morgan, Sheriff Asher. She’s gone!” She sniffed back tears. “This is all my fault! I blabbed private inquiries all over the radio and maybe got that Hanover character killed, and now I’ve lost a very important witness. Are you going to fire me?”

For a brief moment, Ben considered the idea to be the best he’d heard all day. But looking at his secretary’s tear-stained face, he shrugged. “I don’t think that’s up to me, Tess. Maybe Sheriff Lawton will talk to you when she gets back.”

Ben drew another deep breath and said quietly, “And where were all the police officers when this was going on? Wasn’t someone supposed to be sitting with her?”

“There was a car crash out on the highway, so Bill and Andy are still out there. One of the guys is out sick with that stomach bug. The rest are tied up on the Hanover shooting.”

Ben nodded tightly. “And no-one thought to mention the officer shortage to me?” Even as he spoke, he knew it was his responsibility in the final analysis. He’d dropped the ball and now he had to pick up the pieces. “Who took Mrs. Morgan’s statement? I assume that order, at least, was carried out in the proper way?”

“Yes, Sheriff, Jesse did that.”

“And where is it? I don’t see it on my desk.”

Tess blushed. Ben sighed in exasperation. “Tell Jesse to come in. And Tess, you didn’t happen to mention anything to Mrs. Morgan about the investigation, did you?”

Tess’s eyes widened. “No, sir, whatever would I have to tell her?”

He could almost have laughed if he hadn’t been so angry. “Well, for example, you could have mentioned, just in conversation, where I was?”

The secretary’s white face was transformed to a bright red. “Oh, my god. She asked why it was taking so long. I said you’d asked for her to wait until you got in but that you could be a while because you were going to see her father-in-law and then Alfred Morris.”

Ben could feel his pulse thundering loudly in his ears. She’d told Kathryn about Alfred Morris and now Kathryn was missing. It wasn’t hard to guess she’d gone off on her own crusade to save Alex.

Tess’s bravado failed her and tears sprang to her eyes again as she realised the enormity of what she may have done. “I am so sorry, Sheriff Asher….I didn’t think….I’ll watch my mouth in future...”

Ben’s snort showed her what he thought of her promise. He glared stonily at her. “Send Jesse in with Mrs. Morgan’s statement. And Tess, you and I will have another little chat about confidentiality in police work later.”

The woman swallowed hard, nodded, and scurried back to her desk.

Ben collapsed onto his chair, his strong fingers massaging the throbbing ache in his temples. What a mess this was all turning out to be. He’d wanted Kathryn kept at the station for her own safety, but instead she was out wandering alone God knew where.

Although, when he thought about it, it was obvious where she’d gone. She’d already proven she could put two and two together after her little adventure with Bertie Hanover. She’d heard Hanover’s name on Ben’s own radio, and the first chance she got, she’d gone rushing off to do a little investigative work of her own, with a thug. And look how well that had gone! It was pretty obvious she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to try her luck with anyone else he’d interviewed, which put Alfred Morris at the top of her list of possible destinations. Damn!

Officer Jesse Rigg was all business when he came into Ben’s office, and Ben instantly liked the young man.

“I took Mrs. Morgan’s statement, sir. I’ve just got it printed up for her to sign, but I understand she didn’t wait around?” He placed a couple of neatly typed pages on the desk in front of Ben.

“No, she didn’t. I expect she went home to change her clothes and rest up,” Ben said, hoping against hope this was the truth. But that straw was snatched away from him when the intercom buzzed.

“According to the housekeeper, Mrs. Morgan did go home, briefly, and changed her clothes,” Tess’s disembodied voice told him. “But then she went right back out again without saying anything about where she was going. On the off chance she might have gone to see her father, I asked one of the patrol guys to call in at Fitz’s cottage. There was no sign of her and Fitz said he hadn’t seen her since yesterday. “

“Good thinking, Tess. I want to know immediately if anyone spots her. “

Jesse cleared his throat. “Tess’s not a total airhead, if you don’t mind my saying so, Sir. It’s just she’s so used to small town ways. Everything is grist for the gossip mill, and everyone thinks they have a right to know everything. “

Ben regarded the younger man closely. He knew Tess and Jesse were an item and part of him admired the officer’s loyalty. The other part was more than a little irritated. “This is a major crime, not something for the coffee morning debate. Tess committed a serious breach of the rules in mentioning names over the open airwaves. It might well have cost Bertie Hanover his life.”

Jesse’s face coloured and he looked down at his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“So, maybe you can make some impression on Tess that will persuade her to keep her mouth shut. Damned if anything I’ve said so far has gotten through to her.”

Jesse’s mouth twitched. “Oh, I think it’s pretty fair to say you’ve got her scared good right now…Sir.”

Ben smiled. It was a relief to have a little lightness in his thoughts, but the feeling didn’t last. “Did Mrs. Morgan say anything at all that might cast some light on the Hanover killing?”

“No, sir. She was pretty shook up, understandably. She did say she had gone to see him because she had the idea he might be aiding her husband in hiding their son. Apparently, Hanover made some pretty lecherous comments to her, not for the first time, it seems.”

Ben grunted. “If every guy who made lecherous comments to a pretty woman was shot, there’d probably not be many of us left.”

Jesse smiled and continued, “The difference this time was Hanover didn’t seem to be afraid her husband would discipline him for treating her badly. She said she was torn between insisting on checking out Hanover’s house to be sure he wasn’t hiding the kid there and fear of actually being alone inside the house with him. She was just debating what to do when the shot came out of nowhere. She says she didn’t see anyone, other than you, and didn’t have the impression from Hanover that he thought he was in danger of being attacked.”

“Good work. It sounds like you asked all the right questions.” Jesse stood even straighter at his superior officer’s praise. “Just one question, did Mrs. Morgan think she might have been the intended target?”

Jesse looked thoughtful. “I don’t think so, sir. She did look shocked when I asked the question; in fact, she went as white as a ghost and looked about to faint at the notion. But she denied it was possible, said she couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to kill her.”

“Okay, then you’d better get out on the streets again. I particularly want Mrs. Morgan brought back here and Alfred Morris found and brought in for questioning—gently, we don’t know that he’s done anything. Both the Morgans and their thugs need to be watched carefully. There’s every indication of organized crime activity here, and on top of that, we still have to find the missing Morgan boy.”

“All in a day’s work, eh?” Jesse smiled, and Ben grinned back.

“Yeah, all in a day’s work. That’s why they pay us the big bucks.”

Jesse chuckled, but when he reached the office door, he turned back to Ben, a puzzled expression on his handsome young face. “Sir, did you get my report about stopping a car early yesterday morning to tell a guy to get a seatbelt on his kid?”

Ben looked up, memory tickling the back of his mind. Suddenly, he had the thought that he’d missed a connection he should have made. Excitement began to clench in his belly.

“Well, it didn’t occur to me until just now…it was still dark when I stopped the car, and the driver was an elderly man who said the kid was his nephew. The boy was having a tantrum. He was trying to settle him which accounted for the erratic driving. By the time I got up to the car, the kid was sitting quietly, looked to be half asleep, so I didn’t make a big deal of it.”

Ben guessed what was coming next. “But the man was Alfred Morris?”

****

Ben activated the lights on the sheriff’s vehicle and raced through the desultory suppertime traffic along the waterfront in Lobster Cove. He cursed when he hit a snarl-up caused by a truck carrying a prefabricated home. The wide load almost blocked the highway and he wasted minutes as he tried to overtake the clumsy vehicle, its driver trying stoically to move as far over to the side of the road as he could.

As it was, he arrived at the grim brick and stone building that housed Morgan Quality Shoe Company and administrative offices to find Kathryn’s car empty in the parking lot.

There was only one other vehicle there, a shabby dark sedan, once an expensive car but now long past its scrapyard date. He called in the plate number and was told moments later the vehicle was registered to Alfred Morris.

Kathryn was alone in that silent factory with a man who might just be a desperate kidnapper with nothing left to lose.

Old-fashioned wood and glass doors guarded the entrance. The brass kick plate and handles looked as if they’d not seen polish in many years. He pressed one hand against the battered wood and to his surprise, the door swung open under his touch. He strode forward into an empty reception area, furnished with shabby steel and plastic, circa 1960s, and painted in a depressing shade of gray that might once have been white.

No-one challenged him and no-one answered his call of “Police! Anyone here, please show yourself!” He strode on unchallenged down a corridor following directions from a small brass sign that said Accounts over an arrow helpfully pointing the way.

The corridor was only dimly lit, leading to a large room that echoed in near darkness. In the gloom he could see this was what was left of the Morgan Quality Shoes production line, barely a dozen work stations still operative, the rest of the machinery and belts covered in dust and reeking of stale oil. Three sagging panniers on wheels held a selection of out-of-style leather shoes in assorted sizes. No wonder the company was in trouble if this was the best they could produce in these days of high-end brand names.

A swishing sound came from behind him. He whirled around, hand on the butt of the service weapon at his hip, to see another person entering the factory floor. He slipped the strap off his holster and moved silently forward, the dim shadows of the room absorbing his movement.

The little light from the corridor glowed on a slight figure leaning against the doorframe, fumbling with something…a gun?

Ben launched himself forward, taking the intruder by surprise and pinning him against the wall. It took only seconds for his body to register his mistake and respond to the womanly softness of his prisoner, for his nostrils to identify the light floral perfume she wore.

“Dammit, Kathryn, what the hell are you doing here, wandering around in the dark?”

“I suppose I could ask you the same question, Sheriff Asher, particularly as my husband owns this factory, so I guess I’ve more right to be here than you.” Her lips were just below his left ear and her soft, sweet breath stirred him even as he tried to back away. Desire, lust, need…whatever it was, the emotion ripped through him like a firestorm whipping the breath from his chest and setting his body to hard fire. Thought dissolved as he dragged her even closer to him, capturing her lips with a savage need to imprint his mark on her as his body once had stamped her as his own.

Kathryn struggled against him, but Ben had always stirred a wanton need in her and with a soft mewling sound she abandoned her struggles and her arms slipped around his hard chest. Her fingers splayed across the corded muscles of his back, she hugged him closer to her as his tongue dipped into her mouth and was welcomed.

He swung her around, walking her backward until her bottom rested against one of the worktables, his mouth never leaving hers. He kissed her deeply, revelling in her response, releasing her lips to drop tiny kisses on her cheeks and down the smooth length of her neck. It took all his resolve to stop, to pull away from her when his entire being was demanding he claim her for his own. Kathryn gave a little sob of need, groaned his name. “I can’t be responsible for what happens next if we don’t stop,” he murmured softly against the lavender scent of her hair.

She dragged in a breath, planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, and leaned back away to look up into his eyes.

“I have missed you so much, Ben. I need you to know I was Ket’s wife in name only. I married him to give our child a home and a future.”

Ben felt the passion drain from his body. “If that’s so, why would Ket Morgan, heir to the Morgan Empire and rumoured playboy, choose a loveless marriage?”

Kathryn’s cheeks bloomed pink and she was grateful for the dim light that hid her embarrassment. “Ket’s father was pressing him for a grandson, an heir. Nothing was ever said, but I think he has a heart problem and maybe the sense of his own mortality was making him more insistent. I hadn’t heard from you since you’d left, and I felt so alone. I…I told Ket the ultrasound scan showed I was carrying a boy, and that’s when he suggested marriage would be a solution for us both.

“You see, Ket’s unlikely to ever have children unless he adopts. He and Andrew Shepherd, well, they’ve been an item for years, but he didn’t dare tell his father. That’s why he told Andrew to take the letters you wrote. He didn’t want his father to guess there was anything wrong or odd about our marriage.”

Ben closed his eyes. “I couldn’t write to you often at first. It was discouraged during training and then I shipped overseas immediately. Our operations were…covert. I came back to Lobster Cover to find you. I hadn’t heard anything from you and I was afraid something had happened.”

“Something had happened,” Kathryn placed her hand on his arm. “You came back to find me married.”

“Not just married, but at the church on Ket Morgan’s arm, celebrating the baptism of your child.”

She winced at the remembered pain in Ben’s voice. How he must have hurt to see her with Ket and to not know why she taken that action. “Oh, Ben, we’ve lost so many years.”

His silence made her bite her lip with anxiety until he placed a finger under her chin and, raising her face to his, kissed her tears away.

“There’s something you need to know, Kathryn, but you must swear not to repeat this.” He felt her nod against his chest. “I may be the acting sheriff, but that’s because of a ruse we cooked up with Sheriff Lawton.”

“We?”

“The FBI. I’m an agent working in forensic accounting and organized crime.”

Kathryn was silent. All she could think was that when all this was over, Ben would be leaving. Back to his real life, wherever that was.

Shuffling sounds outside in the corridor leading from the workroom suddenly snagged Ben’s attention. Kathryn heard it at the same time, exerting a gentle and reluctant pressure against his chest to push him away from her.

“There’s someone here,” she whispered frantically in his ear. His hands grasped the sides of her face, imprinting a last deep kiss on her mouth, before shielding her with his body as he turned toward the doors. He took several deep breaths to pull himself under control, straightening his clothes. With the kind of people they were dealing with, such distraction could leave them both dead.

Then he stepped forward, calling out, “Who’s there? This is Sheriff Ben Asher of the Lobster Cove Police Department. Show yourself.”

There was a sudden frozen silence outside in the corridor, a breathing pause, then scuffling footsteps as someone rushed away down the corridor. Cursing, Ben tore through the doors, chasing the stooped figure only yards ahead.

The man turned, his face a frantic mask of fear as he threw the brown paper bag he’d been carrying at Ben’s face. Ben ducked and swerved as hamburger and French fries flew from the bag to land with a greasy plop on the floor. Kathryn, tearing along behind him, slipped in the mess and hit the ground with a sharp cry.

He glanced behind, saw her struggling to her feet, and resumed the chase through into the reception area and out into the parking lot.

Kathryn was right behind him again, her breathing heavy from the exertion and the adrenalin pumping through her body.

“Stop! Police!” Ben shouted as the fleeing figure ran toward the old sedan parked close to her vehicle.

“That’s Alfred Morris!” Kathryn cried. Ben launched himself forward as the panicked man paused to pull car keys from his pocket.

The dull glow of the single security light glanced off the face of the fugitive. It gave his skin a sickly-yellow pallor but didn’t hide the terror that bloomed there. A terror that deepened as a black SUV prowled out of the darkest shadows of the lot where it had lurked unnoticed until now.

“Stop! Police!” Ben shouted again. The SUV continued to approach as Morris pushed the sheriff away, his flailing hand trying to grab the driver’s door of his own car.

Ben launched himself forward as the rear door of the SUV opened and arms reached out to grab a struggling Morris and drag him inside.

Ben repeated his order to stop, his weapon now in his hand. He pointed at the other car, but before he could fire off a shot, the vehicle roared toward them. He grabbed Kathryn and shouldered her out of its path, both of them landing hard on the rough surface as a bullet whizzed by them and lodged in the brick above their heads, sending up a cloud of red dust.

Ben managed to fire off a couple of shots at the big car’s tires as the vehicle sped past them, contemptuously spurting gravel from its tires as it reached the road and took off with a quiet roar of its powerful engine.

Kathryn was on her feet and running toward her own car as Ben holstered his weapon. “That was Ket’s car. I’ll bet they’re taking him to the Morgan place,” she shouted over her shoulder as she struggled with her car keys.

Ben gripped her arm. “Stay out of this Kathryn! You saw what happened. These people are prepared to kill, and for some reason, you’re no longer on the protected list. Those guys didn’t care which of us they hit just then.”

She turned, her voice strong as she answered: “How can you tell me to stay out of this? Until I find my son…our son, I’ll do whatever I have to do. And for the record, Ket’s just being honest now. He doesn’t care whether I live or die, and never did.”

She watched Ben’s reaction and knew his mind must be going a million miles a minute but she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her. “I’ve got to get back to the Morgan house. That was a Morgan company car which means Ket’s into this up to his neck! I’m going to make him, or Alfred, tell me where Alex is.”

“Okay, but we’re taking my car...”

“No, driving up in the police cruiser will tip them off before we even get to the door. We’ll go in my car and just maybe they’ll think it’s me being stupid enough to go back to the house. That could help us catch them off guard.”

Kathryn was through waiting for him to make up his mind, getting in her car and starting the engine. She began backing out of her parking spot as he slammed the car door and settled into the passenger seat.

****

Cut off from the outside world, alone in the dank basement room, Alex lay quietly on the dirty, hard bed. He was exhausted and hungry. The man hadn’t been around in a while. He was pretty sure it was way past time for the man to bring some food, although it had gotten pretty lax recently. His tummy growled and hurt with hunger and with fear. The man was getting angrier and angrier. He’d smashed the glass this morning, and afterward had spent a long time pacing and muttering and shouting outside the door to Alex’s cell.

Alex shivered. He had the feeling it wouldn’t be long before the man wanted to break something more than a cheap glass and he didn’t want to be around when that happened. He sucked on his raw, bloody fingers, wrapped another part of the tattered blanket around his hand, and began sawing away with the shard of glass at the last threads of the nylon rope.