Reunited in Danger

by Joya Fields

  “Loving Arms stuff?” He’d helped Ben with fundraising a few times, supporting the non-profit agency that acted as an intermediary for pregnant women, offering everything from help with adoption lawyers to health care to baby blankets knit by Ben’s church members.

  She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

  “Is there anyone you can think of who has something against Ben?”

  “Everybody loves him. The police wouldn’t let me inside, but I could see that stuff was thrown everywhere.”

  “We’ll figure it out, Keels.” He jolted as the old nickname slipped through his lips. It stirred old emotions, ones he’d ignore for now. “I have to read the report and talk to the officers who were first on the scene. Could have been a robbery gone wrong.”

  A tear cascaded down her face, and Logan wanted to trail the back of his hand along her soft cheek. But instead, he stayed the hell away.

  …

  Keely’s breathing returned to normal. She hated to admit it, but Logan’s presence had actually calmed her. Old friends, that was all. They’d been friends as kids, and because of that, he knew her well enough to know what she needed.

  “Keely?”

  She looked up to see Mrs. Beyer crossing the waiting room.

  “How is your dad? They won’t tell me anything.”

  She took in the woman’s pinched and wrinkled face, gray hair pulled starkly back into a bun, bandaged forehead, and a sad expression in her hazel eyes. She flicked her gaze over to Logan, who stood with crossed arms. He stared at the other woman, as if inspecting Mrs. Beyer from a law enforcement point of view. Was he seriously considering Ben’s neighbor a suspect? Both Keely and Logan had been in Mrs. Beyer’s fourth grade classroom together. Give me a break. The poor woman had been through enough for one day.

  “Logan, would you excuse us for a minute?” Keely pinned him with a stare as she gently laid a hand on Mrs. Beyer’s arm.

  He hesitated, then glanced at the cluster of police down the hallway. “No problem. I want to go talk with those guys anyway. Glad you’re feeling okay, Mrs. Beyer.”

  “Thank you, Logan. And I’m glad you’re here. For Ben, and for Keely,” the older woman said.

  He uncrossed his arms, awkwardly shoved his hands deep in his front pockets, hesitated for a moment, then turned and strode toward the uniformed policemen.

  Keely ignored the tension radiating off Logan and focused on the elderly lady, who seemed pale and shaky. After leading Mrs. Beyer to a chair, Keely sat beside her. The woman’s gaze connected with hers. Hurt and pain were reflected there.

  “Thank you so much for calling me, Mrs. Beyer.”

  “Please call me Margaret.”

  When she nodded, Mrs. Beyer—Margaret—took a breath and blew it out.

  “What were you doing in the house?” she continued. “Were you there when my dad was attacked?”

  Margaret smoothed her gray skirt along her thighs, as if trying to decide whether or not to speak. Then she turned to face Keely again. “I have a key.” She glanced down the hall at the police who, along with Logan, were now walking toward them.

  “A key to my dad’s?” Keely asked.

  “We’ve been seeing each other for quite a while now.”

  Keely froze for a moment, then remembered the dinners and cookies her dad had mentioned, the touch of rouge she’d seen on Margaret’s cheek once when Keely had stopped by Ben’s…the scent of perfume.

  Oh, wow. Margaret was in love with Ben.

  “You’re the first one to know.” Margaret turned three shades of red and bit her bottom lip. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors talking.”

  Keely’s generation understood and accepted nonmarital relationships, but many of the elderly people in the Greenmount West neighborhood did not.

  “I think it’s great.” She smiled, despite her worry for her dad. Her adoptive mother had died five years earlier in a car accident. Her father deserved happiness, and she was glad he’d found someone.

  Margaret laid a fragile hand on hers. Maybe not so fragile, since the woman owned a shotgun and obviously wasn’t afraid to use it. When Keely noticed the detective she’d met earlier approaching, along with Logan, she wasn’t sure if Margaret’s touch was a friendly gesture or one meant to gain support.

  “Ms. Allen, Mrs. Beyer, I’d like to ask you both a few questions. If you’ll follow me,” Detective Dunnigan said, leaving them little choice as he turned and walked down the hall.

  She looked to Logan for confirmation. He nodded.

  “Want me to stay with you during the interview?” he asked.

  “If it’s okay with the detective, it’s okay with me.” She stood and offered her elbow to Margaret. They linked arms and walked the distance together. She didn’t feel so alone in her need to help her father anymore. Margaret had witnessed the attack on Keely’s dad, had even scared the men away. Perhaps she could help identify the bastards who’d beaten Ben up.

  Keely blew out a nervous breath as Detective Dunnigan ushered her, Logan, and Margaret toward a small conference room off the hospital hallway.

  At the doorway, Dunnigan paused. “We’ll ask some questions of you first, Ms. Allen. Mrs. Beyer, if you could wait out here for a while?” He gestured to a set of fiberglass chairs in the hall.

  Margaret took a seat and Keely left her alone to step inside the room. Logan followed her, lowering himself in the chair next to the one she’d selected. This close, she could smell him, and feel his presence. She sat, but scooted her chair away, needing to keep distance between them. She glanced up to see he’d narrowed his eyes. Her act had been childish, she knew. But she’d do what she could to keep from letting him into her life again, even if his presence here was a comfort.

  Dunnigan shot a glance at Logan.

  “I’m not here in a professional capacity. I’m off the clock,” Logan quickly said.

  “Fine. This is an informal interview, anyway. But don’t interfere, or your ass is out of here.” Dunnigan turned his focus on Keely. “Do you know what your father’s plans were for the day?”

  “He was supposed to pick up a pregnant eighteen-year-old Thai woman at the airport who wanted to give up her baby for adoption.”

  “He brings aliens into the country?”

  “No. She’s an American citizen. He runs a US program called Loving Arms, which helps young pregnant women. He does it through his church—he’s the pastor at Great Grace Nondenominational Church in East Baltimore.” Why did she feel the need to defend her dad? He did everything lawfully.

  “Is it possible the woman was with him when he entered his house?”

  Keely frowned. Dunnigan had a point. If her dad went to the airport to pick someone up, where was the woman? “I don’t know. Either Craig Bittinger or our office manager, Dave Phoenix, might know, though. They both volunteer with the program at church and are on the board of directors for Loving Arms.”

  After Dunnigan wrote down the church’s phone number she gave him, he asked if she knew anyone who would hurt her father. The question shocked her. She couldn’t imagine anyone hurting her dad. People loved him. He’d helped so many people in the community. Dunnigan excused her, and she stood, realizing her legs were shaking. Logan stood, too, and stepped close.

  “Keely?” He placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

  She hated how his touch made her feel steadier. Hated how heat seared through her shirt, too. A lump formed in her throat as a memory tried to surface of how it felt to be held in those strong arms. She forced the memory and the lump away.

  “I want to stay for Mrs. Beyer’s interview,” he said. “Are you okay by yourself?”

  She’d survived just fine without him for ten years, so what made him think she needed him now? She straightened her back and modulated her voice to a courtroom sang-froid. “I’m fine. Thanks for your help, Officer North.”

  His back went ramrod straight and his lips pressed together to form a firm line. Good. Now he understood. This was a profe
ssional acquaintance only.

  With a nod to Dunnigan, she turned and walked away.

  Logan would be out of their lives as fast as he’d returned. That was his modus operandi—to leave. The only difference this time was that she wouldn’t let his exit hurt.

  Chapter Three

  Logan crossed his arms, watching as Dunnigan and Mrs. Beyer shook hands at the end of his former teacher’s interview with the detective. According to what she’d stated, she’d heard Ben’s front door slam when she was in her living room. Knowing he wasn’t supposed to be home, she called his home phone, and then his cell. When she heard banging noises, she’d called 911, then Keely, and then had grabbed her shotgun and headed next door.

  He would have laughed at the visual of Mrs. Beyer and her shotgun if it hadn’t ended with both her and Ben getting hurt. Apparently, two men in ski masks and long-sleeved shirts had attacked Ben. One white, one black, and both over six feet and muscular. With the ski masks, she hadn’t recognized them, but had thought they seemed familiar.

  Not a lot of new information, but the one thing that stood out was how Mrs. Beyer had noticed the place had been tossed, but that the thugs had only taken Ben’s briefcase and ran.

  After exchanging good-byes with both the detective and Mrs. Beyer, he headed down the hall, on his way to find Ben and Keely.

  “You should be using your spare time making arrangements for your move to Texas, not hanging out at a hospital.” Quinn’s deep voice echoed in the hallway.

  Surprised, Logan turned around and faced his partner. “What are you doing here?”

  “I never left. Nice guy that I am, I’ve been waiting for you. Besides, our shift starts in an hour, and you were my ride here.”

  “Sorry. I should have left you the car keys.”

  “I got nothing else going on before we clock in.” Quinn glanced up and down the hall. “So, where is Keely? I’d like to meet this woman who has such a hold on you.”

  Logan frowned. “Hold on me? I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah? You don’t see that look on your face I see whenever you bring up her name. Usually after a few beers. Sometimes when you’re overtired.”

  Quinn had too much time on his hands. The guy needed to focus on his own family’s drama and stop butting into Logan’s life.

  “Do you want the keys to my SUV so you can go home before our shift?”

  “I can wait. Besides, I want to hear all about her on the way to the station.”

  Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. Let Quinn wait. “You’ll have to find something else to talk about, though. Keely’s off limits.”

  “Fine. Have you written your resignation letter yet?”

  Crap. Not this again.

  “So you haven’t officially accepted Security Pro’s job offer yet?” Quinn blocked Logan’s path. “This is the chance of a lifetime. Sitting in an office, accepting that fat paycheck every week without risking your damn neck every time you walk out your door to work—”

  “I know. I’m taking the damn job.” Of course he was taking the job, but not for the reasons his coworkers thought.

  The accusations last winter of brutality, brought about by a man he’d arrested, had proven to him he’d never get over his temper. He’d fought the knowledge for years, but there was no escaping the sharp reality after he’d pounded the drug dealer to a pulp; his father’s anger was an inescapable part of him.

  Being put on probation had probably been the best thing for him—had helped him make the difficult decision to leave the police force. Working in a high-rise office, sitting at a desk developing security plans, he wouldn’t have to face criminals any more—and he wouldn’t risk beating the crap out of another low-life. In a management position, he’d be safe from doing the wrong thing in the heat of the moment.

  He’d made tough decisions like this before. Taking the security development position was a smart move.

  But he couldn’t leave just yet. Not until he made sure Keely and Ben were okay. As much as he wanted Texas, Texas would have to wait.

  …

  Keely fell onto a chair in her father’s room and exhaustion seeped into her limbs, draining her of movement, but she kept her gaze focused firmly on her father. He’d needed twenty stitches to close a gash over his right eyebrow and along his ear.

  Why would anyone hurt a man who lived to help others?

  She stretched her feet onto another chair and closed her eyes, relishing the soft snoring sounds her dad made.

  A noise in the hallway jolted her upright and her eyes flew open. The sun had set, casting an orange glow on the room as yellow and green lights blinked on the machines around her dad.

  “How is he?” Logan whispered, stepping inside the darkened room.

  Her lungs caught. Funny, how after all these years, Logan North could still steal her breath.

  He crossed the floor in a few silent footsteps and leaned close, looking at Ben. Bringing the scent of his leather jacket to her.

  “He woke for a few minutes, but then fell back asleep.”

  “Did he say anything?” He stared down at her dad’s still form.

  Her heart lurched at his display of concern. “No, he wasn’t awake long enough.”

  “Come out in the hall for a minute. We need to talk.” He took her hand in his.

  Her heart pounded faster at his touch. She couldn’t let him in. Her darn body kept betraying the vow, though. Using every ounce of willpower she had, she pulled her hand away. His expression turned quizzical, but she only blinked, adjusting her eyes to the harsh glare of the fluorescent hallway lights, and dropped her gaze to his chest. She had to make him think she was unaffected by seeing him again. She shoved past him and exited her father’s room, coming to a halt in the middle of the hallway before turning around to face Logan. “Are you on duty tonight?” she asked.

  “Eight-to-eight shift.”

  She glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. “Did you get any more information from Detective Dunnigan?”

  “Originally, the cops on the scene thought it was a botched robbery. However, it’s possible someone tried to make this appear like a robbery. Mrs. Beyer said one of the thugs took Ben’s briefcase, but other than that, they left empty-handed. Would you be able to verify nothing of value was taken?”

  “Verify?”

  “You know his house better than anyone,” he said. “I want to find out if anything is missing, and—” He paused and focused somewhere behind her.

  She heard footsteps approaching and quickly turned, catching sight of Craig and Amy Bittinger, members of her father’s church. Switching her focus back to Logan, intent on introducing him, she noticed he was running his gaze up and down the couple. To him, everyone was probably a suspect. Suspicion was probably a good trait for an investigator, but not so great when greeting caring church members.

  “Keely, so sorry about your dad. Just awful that something like this could happen in broad daylight,” Amy said breathlessly.

  She noted Amy appeared as crisp and chic as though she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. The woman’s smooth black hair and perfectly-applied makeup accentuated her delicate Asian features. Keely resisted the urge to pat down her own mussed-up hair. The church members were there to support her father, not pass judgment on an exhausted daughter.

  “How is Ben?” Craig Bittinger’s voice was cheerful, but forced. As if he knew how serious an elderly man getting beat up was.

  “He’s still asleep,” Logan stated flatly. “And you are?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Keely said quickly. “Detective Logan North, this is Craig Bittinger and his wife, Amy. They’re congregants of Dad’s church, and also board members on Loving Arms.”

  Craig shook Logan’s hand. “Detective. You’re on Ben’s case? Do you know what happened?”

  “Someone went through Dad’s place,” she said, explaining before Logan could speak. “Roughed him up when he interrupted them, then stole his briefcase. Would you know what
was in it?”

  Next to her, Logan tensed. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question, should have left it to Detective Dunnigan. Craig helped with the travel arrangements when pregnant girls from out of town came to Baltimore to give their babies up for adoption. He might know something about her father’s briefcase. Craig and Amy were here, so why not ask now?

  Craig tilted his head. “Sorry, I don’t.”

  “If you think of anything that would have made him or his briefcase a target for robbery, give Detective Dunnigan a call. Here, the main number’s on my card.” Logan fished out his wallet and handed his cards to both Craig and Amy.

  “Tell Ben everyone at church is praying for him,” Craig said, pocketing Logan’s card. “Dave and Charlie will stop by to see him, also.”

  She pressed her lips tight. Her dad should probably have peace and quiet, not visitors. But well-meaning friends and congregation members would show, no matter what. The community revolved around Ben. She shook Craig’s hand, gave Amy a brief hug, then the couple walked back down the hall.

  Logan watched the couple leave. “How well does Ben know them?”

  “Pretty well. They’re part of the community. Craig owns a local diner, and they’re both at the church offices a lot.”

  “Who were the others he said might stop by?”

  “Dad’s secretary, Charlie. And Dave, the office manager at the church.”

  “I want to go with you to your dad’s house, see if you can figure out if anything else besides his briefcase was stolen. I’m not on the case, but I can walk with you through the house. Let’s meet in the morning.”

  She didn’t need an escort to visit her father’s house, but it would probably sound childish to refuse his help. Besides, he was only looking out for her dad. “Okay. I want to stay with Dad tonight, anyway.”

  He leaned a hip against the wall. “Why were you asking the Bittingers about what was in that briefcase?”

  “I’m guessing he had paperwork about the girl from Los Angeles in it. Do we know who or where she is?”

  “I talked to Dunnigan earlier. He had deputies check Ben’s car. They found a paper on the passenger seat, the girl’s name was Su Lin. The airline was contacted—she never took the flight.”