Another Man's Son

by Glenys O'Connell

  “And what about my promise to take custody of the boy because you’re not fit to be his mother?”

  Kathryn’s face blanched. The bruises and scrapes left by Ket Morgan’s fists stood out in in sharp relief. Guilt and shame blossomed in Ben’s chest. Morgan had used his fists to batter Kathryn, but he had used words, the threat to take the child she so obviously loved. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see which had hurt her most.

  “Do you think your dad is up to answering a few questions?”

  “Why? Do you think he snuck out of the nursing home and stole his own grandson?”

  The bitterness in her voice made him wince. “No, Kathryn. I think Fitz knows a lot that goes on in this town, or that has gone on in the past. I’m hoping maybe he can give me some leads as to who hates the Morgan family enough to steal their heir apparent.”

  Kathryn got up and walked to the door, but before opening it she turned to Ben. “Sometimes we have to make decisions about what’s best. They might not be the right decisions, but they’re made for the right reasons.”

  He looked directly into her eyes. “But as we all learned in Sunday school, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

  He didn’t tell her that losing her had dropped him into his own private hell.

  ****

  “You want to know who hates the Morgan family?” Fitz raised one bushy eyebrow as he looked at Ben over his coffee cup. “Son, if you’re looking for someone who hates that family, you’d better arrest the whole damned town ’cause I doubt there’s a soul living in Lobster Cove who has a kind thought about them.”

  “What about people like Bertie Hanover?” Ben was surprised to see a flitter of fear cross the older man’s face before he hid it behind a dark look.

  “I thought we were talking about the people here, not animals.”

  “You think Hanover is an animal?” From his reading of the records, Ben thought that description of the man was probably unfair to animals.

  Fitz snapped his mouth closed and turned away from the sheriff.

  Cynthia cut in, casting an apologetic glance at Kathryn. “I’ve never met a family with as many enemies as Ket Morgan and his son. You know the joke in town is that old man Morgan does the laundry and his son is into pharmaceuticals. People say they’re in with the Mob.

  “Money laundering for the Mob, and illegal drugs,” Ben stated flatly. He didn’t say that was what he’d been sent to investigate.

  “And the wife is always the last to know?” Kathryn said, her voice bitter.

  “You didn’t know?” Ben asked. “Or maybe you didn’t want to know?”

  “Don’t judge until you walk a mile in someone’s shoes.” She glared at him. “They say hindsight is 20/20 vision. As I got to know Ket and his father better, I did suspect that not everything was above board. But I never imagined it was quite so…that they would be part of organized crime. Funny, but now it makes so many things fit…like well-dressed men arriving for business meetings late at night, and the secrecy around them…”

  Ben couldn’t bear to look at the pain on Kathryn’s face. “What do you know about the factory, Fitz?”

  Fitz chewed on the inside of his cheek again before answering slowly. “I’ve heard the rumors—hasn’t everyone who worked there? What stuck in my craw was the way Ket Junior brought in all those thugs to break the union. Broke Wendell Anderson’s kneecaps, the poor man will never walk again. Ken Green’s wife came home one day to find the kid’s pet cat hanging from the plant holder at her front door. Joe Allyson had rocks thrown through his window. He was told the next time would be a fire bomb. And Slugger Clark, who’d have been vice-chair of the union chapter if they’d got it going, was beaten so badly he lost a kidney and then they torched his house. Some of those guys moved out of town. One disappeared. Some of us got fired, which I guess is better than being maimed. I came home and spent a long time looking for reasons at the bottom of a glass. God help me, girl, when you said Ket Morgan had asked you to marry him, I thought well, at least we’ll be safe, he won’t have his in-laws maimed.”

  Kathryn was staring at her father as though he spoke in tongues. Evidently, realizing there were horrors she never dreamed of, she reached out and grasped his hand. “They didn’t maim you, Dad, they just shut you up out of the way. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “But that’s over now. Let’s find Alex, and get our lives back together. “

  “If the Morgans will let us,” Kathryn said bleakly.

  Silence lay thick in the room, the dusty silence of long-hoarded fears and secrets. Ben broke it by thanking Fitz and Cynthia, and nodding brusquely at Kathryn as he donned his hat and left.

  ****

  After he left, Kathryn turned to her father and asked: “Do you know where I could find this Bertie Hanover?”

  The old man drew in a sharp breath. “What do you want to know for?” Fitz chewed on his lower lip, refusing to meet her gaze. “Bertie Hanover is a thug, a psycho who Ket Junior hired to break kneecaps or whatever else was necessary to get his own way. You’d do well to stay away and let Ben deal with him and his cronies.” The old man pushed his chair away from the table and stood, adding bleakly, “If he can.”

  “If he’s on Ket’s payroll and if Ket’s had him take Alex to punish me, Hanover may tell me where Alex is if I offer him enough money. He’s just the type Ket would hire to do his dirty work and we know there’s no honor among the likes of him. If he’s that close to Ket and he hasn’t got Alex, Hanover might just know who hates my husband enough to take my son.” Kathryn stood and gathered up her bag and car keys. “I’m going to call my old school friend Allie Jones who works in personnel, get an address, and go and pay Mr. Hanover a little visit. “

  Fitz paled. “Jeez, girl, are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what the likes of Hanover can do?”

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Dad, you know I have to do this. I have to find my son, and I can’t believe some pedophile just happened by the truck stop at dawn and snatched him. It’s too much of a coincidence. I’ll be back by dark.”

  Her father’s protests followed her as she strode from the house, hearing only a bit of the conversation as she left.

  “Let her go, Fitz. She’s been drifting and she needs to find solid ground. Hanover’s a lot of things, but he knows which side his bread is buttered. He won’t risk his neck by hurting Ket Morgan’s wife.” Cynthia said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “I feel so damned useless. I’ve let that girl down so much…”

  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.

&
nbsp; 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.