LINKED (The Bening Files Book 1)

by Rachel Trautmiller

  Teens, posing for senior pictures, a man and woman seated with their children, proud smiles affixed to their faces and a few corporate photo’s detailing staff members. At the very bottom, a faded photo held Cassidy and his daughter in the NICU. Tubes came from the incubator and connected to tiny arms and legs within his wife’s arms. She looked down at the bundle in her arms, both joy and fear mixing on her face.

  Alexis had taken the picture moments before he’d knelt at their side and kissed his daughter’s sweet head. Before he’d said a prayer for his little girl’s health, begging God to let them keep her. A week. A year. Any amount of time.

  He’d looked up at Cassidy then and whispered, “Everything’s going to be okay.” And he’d wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks, because they both knew that might not be true.

  “Sometimes, I wish they hadn’t let us hold her.” Cassidy’s voice cut through the painful, but sweet memory.

  A coffee cup appeared on the counter in front of him. He lowered the picture, caught in the act of snooping even though that hadn’t been his intention.

  “Maybe it would have been easier.” Leaning against the counter across from him, she wrapped her hands around her own mug.

  His heart gave a painful squeeze before resuming its normal rhythm. He didn’t know what to say, other than that he didn’t agree. Those precious moments were something he’d never forget or get back. She had to know that, too.

  “I hope I didn’t upset you by leaving that out.” She tried to take the picture from him, but he held fast.

  “It’s not upsetting. Blonde or black?”

  “What?” Confusion rolled across her pretty face.

  “She’s got a thick patch of jet-black hair here.” He pointed to the picture still in both of their hands. “But would it have stayed that way?”

  Her mouth opened and closed a few times.

  “When Jordan was born, he had the same patch of hair until it fell out. I bet it would have been the same with Hannah,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I think it would have stayed that color and been curly, like yours.”

  “She would have had your eyes and smile.” He dropped the picture and tugged a strand of her hair. “And I would’ve probably already had to chase boys off with my menacing stare.”

  One shoulder rose, then fell, her eyes glued to their daughter. “Maybe.”

  He lifted her chin and curved his hand around her cheek. “I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, the way you needed me to be.”

  She bit her lip and his eyes centered there.

  “Don’t apologize, please. I’m the one who shut you out. I’m the one who’s sorry.” A tear splashed over her lashes. She dashed it away with the back of her hand.

  In the next heartbeat, he was at her side, pulling her into his arms. “Hey, shh.” As he rubbed her back and breathed in the clean scent of her shampoo, he could feel her breaths coming in short little puffs against his neck. “Our little girl would have had us wrapped around her finger. There would have been shopping and pedicures. Giggling, sleepovers, talk about boys, nail polish, glitter, dresses and dances.”

  She pulled out of his arms and blinked up at him.

  “Hannah’s doing those things in heaven. And when we get there, she’ll tell us about every event. And it won’t feel like we’ve missed a second of her life.”

  “You honestly believe that?”

  “I do, minus the boys, of course. Boys are not allowed in heaven next to my little girl.”

  A smile tugged the corner of her lips. “You’re different.”

  “So are you, but Hannah’s still right here.” He tapped the picture and then his chest. “And she always will be.” He moved his hand from his chest to hers, above her heart.

  Because the conversation was getting heavy about things they couldn’t change, he removed his hand and reached for his coffee. “What did our trio decide to watch?”

  “A Nightmare on Elm Street, Five.”

  A large gulp of steaming-hot coffee flew down his throat and into his lungs. “Really?” he asked between coughs. Go, Jordan.

  “Yes.” She pounded his back with the palm of her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Perfect.” Cough. Cough. Cough. “Great.” Another sip of coffee and he had the spasm under control.

  Cassidy glanced toward the sound of the opening credits. “Jordan seemed okay, right?”

  “He’s fine, Cass. You’ve got a great kid. Don’t worry so much.” He tapped the countertop where the pictures sat. “Big project?”

  “Yes.” She sprung off the stool she’d sat on and grabbed his hand, her face alight with excitement. “I’ve wanted to show you something.”

  “Okay.” He barely had time to ditch his cup on the counter before she pulled him out of the kitchen, past the media room and toward her studio in the walk-out basement.

  She flicked on lights as they went. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and he braced himself on the stairwell ceiling to avoid running into her.

  After releasing his opposite hand, she whirled toward him. “Even if you hate it, promise me you won’t say a word.” The earlier excitement started to fade under the pressure of anxiety, on her face.

  It made him feel like the teenager her son was, seeing her so open after being unable to witness that in over a decade. “You don’t have any skeletons hiding down here, do you? Because that’s not artistic photography.”

  A flash of white teeth told him his teasing had hit its mark. She flicked on the lower level lights, illuminating her wide collection of back-drops, props, two changing rooms—all of it decorated with her eclectic style. A built in desk sat to the left of the heavy ornate wooden door leading outside. Neat piles of paperwork, a phone with an answering machine and a computer sat on its surface. Updates had been made to the area, but nothing noteworthy.

  “If you wanted me alone, all you had to do was ask.”

  “Bad, Blaney.” She shook her head. “Come on.” Again, she grabbed his hand and headed toward the space she used as her dark room. She stopped at the closed door. “Close your eyes.”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed.

  “Close them.”

  “Why?”

  She stamped her foot. “Just do it.”

  If he’d had a camera and any skill with one, he’d have freeze-framed the moment, with Cassidy’s hair around her face and the light from the room casting a glow around it like a halo. Her blue eyes never seemed bluer or her smile so bright. She looked like an angel. His angel.

  “Matthew.” Impatience laced the word.

  “Fine.” Reluctantly, he closed his eyes. “But hurry it up, I’ve got another non-date to get to.”

  A feminine swat was his reward. The soft creak of the door came as she opened it. She pulled him inside, the dehumidified temperature change in the room, obvious. Another creak came from what he assumed was the closing door.

  “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

  It didn’t take long for him to adjust to the light in the room. A red lamp gave off a glow in the corner. Several developing pans graced the small area. Hanging at the back was a picture that took up a good portion of the darkroom and would probably require a large space in which to hang. Currently, it dried on a line, held by several clips.

  The black and white photo depicted a small, chubby child’s hand gripping a large, male hand. His hand. The grass and playground rocks, below, were a blur of shapes, along with the playground equipment beyond them. His wedding band stuck out in contrast to his rough hand and the baby softness of Jordan’s, something Cassidy must have sharpened with her computer programs. He could see the indentations of Jordan’s fingers as they clung to his, in trust.

  That day was like any other day. The spring weather right on time to win over their cabin fever, due to a rainy winter. A trip to the park, they’d decided, because Jordan had just turned two the previous week and they hadn’t had time to celebrate. Not with just the th
ree of them. They rode the slide so many times, his jeans had streaks of black on them from the dirt left behind by other kids. All three of them had squished onto a tire swing and twirled until Jordan started rubbing his red-rimmed eyes.

  “Someone’s tired.” A little smile lit Cassidy’s face as she glanced at her son. Jordan shook his head, sending his unkempt, pale hair flying about his shoulders. Then, he’d yawned, his mouth opening wide enough to fit two matchbox cars inside. Matthew had known he was done for the day.

  Instead of letting Matthew carry him, Jordan had insisted on walking, his small, dirt-covered hand clutching onto two of his large fingers. “Home, Pops?” he’d asked.

  Cassidy had hid a smile behind her camera and snapped the picture. In that moment, he could have lost every tangible thing in his life, except for that kid and his mother and died feeling blessed.

  Such a simple picture that said so much. To him. Them. Their past. And a little hope blossomed for the future.

  Next to him, in the darkroom, Cassidy remained quiet.

  So many words came to mind. “It’s big.” He pinched his eyes shut. Good one, Blaney.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “I…” He turned toward her. “It’s even better than I remember it.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I entered it in the Pulitzer.”

  “What?” His brain had a hard time following as he focused on her now-red lips.

  As if she knew why he struggled to keep up, she smiled. “The picture. I entered it. And I won.”

  “Wow, Cass. That’s incredible.” He picked her up and swung her in a small circle as if they were twenty instead of over forty. Then, he gathered her close and kissed her. Slow at first, memorizing each touch of his tongue against hers. How her hair was soft and silky against his fingers and her scent filled his nostrils and lungs and heart.

  “I’m proud of you.” He pulled away. “Is that why you’ve been so busy?”

  She nodded. “I have more clients and requests than I ever thought imaginable. To help organize and promote the business, I started designing my own internet website. I’m even helping Balm Corp put a new brochure together for their up-and-coming website.”

  “That’s great. Are you doing a lot of the work here?”

  She opened the door and he followed her as she exited the room. “Mostly. I go on-location when I need to.”

  The phone in the corner of the room gave a loud peel.

  “Need to answer that?”

  “No. It’s after hours. They’ll leave a message.”

  They headed for the stairs as the answering machine clicked on.

  “I’ve left several messages.” A male voice said. That male voice made the hair on the back of his neck rise, like seeing the black Mustang in his driveway had all those years ago.

  Birmingham.

  Cassidy looked back at him worriedly. One step above him, her gaze reached over his head and centered, he imagined, on the little black machine beside the phone.

  “I would think you could make time for the father of your child. As a fellow business owner, I would assume you could put aside our differences and represent my project. You know my number.” Then he clicked off.

  Questions Matthew didn’t have the right to ask, begged for release.

  A soft puff of breath hit his forehead as if she’d held her breath through the entire call.

  “Everything okay, Cass?”

  As she lifted her gaze from the desk behind them, to him, he caught a flash of emotions, everything from wary to anger. Every cell inside of him begged her not shut him out. Begged her to give him even a sliver of truth.

  “Yeah.”

  Disappointment rushed through his veins, in speedy pursuit of that vital organ in his chest. Some things didn’t change, no matter how much you wanted them to.

  She turned and made it two more steps before she dropped to the landing that would lead ten more steps to the top. On her rear end, she clasped her hands between her knees. “Kind of a weird coincidence, right? Him calling now.” She scrubbed a hand across her cheek.

  He leaned against the wall and tried to keep his stance neutral. Open. Inviting, even. Trust me. Take a chance. “I’ve got to admit, I’m picturing the worst right now.”

  “He wants me to design a website banner for him. One that would advertise Club Italia on various sites, including Balm Corp’s, because it’s local. And, instead of simply telling him to take his business elsewhere, I’m avoiding him.”

  His heart started to slow and he sat next to her. “Why?”

  She bit her lip. “Because it’s never as simple as it should be. We both know that ‘no’ is not in his vocabulary.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “It’s nothing more than an annoyance. It’s unprofessional, I know, but he’ll ask about Jordan. And you know how Jordan feels about him.”

  About the same as Matthew did. “You didn’t answer my question. How long?”

  “About a month. Ever since he got wind that I was branching out my services to include web photography and design.”

  Why? Why, now? “Now, there’s a guy who is a dick.”

  In spite of everything, she laughed.

  “If anything changes, you’ll let me know?” He laid a hand on her back and rubbed.

  “One almost-date and you think you can take charge of everything?” She stood.

  “Which is it? Date or almost-date?” He followed her to the top and back into the kitchen.

  “I don’t know.” She sipped her probably cold coffee as if they talked of taxes. “Take me out on Saturday and we’ll discuss it.”

  No way around it, he loved her. “I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

  “Probably not.”

  Which wasn’t a bad thing. He made eye contact with her across the counter. A small smiled played on her mouth.

  “But neither do I. So, all in all, we’re in the same boat, right?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jordan would be unhappy when he discovered she was gone.

  In McKenna’s defense, she’d left a note, she intended to return and she wasn’t alone. All his stipulations had been met, except he wasn’t here. It had taken her thirty minutes to win the internal battle to leave the house without him.

  It wasn’t so much that she needed Jordan with her to feel secure, it was that she needed him. The thought, in and of itself, seemed to take on a life of its own and warred with her desire for independence.

  The skin, of which, still seemed foreign, but fit well.

  “No matter how quick you make this, he’s still gonna realize you’re gone.” Amanda said from beside her as they rushed down the sidewalk toward their destination. “Will you slow down?”

  “He’s here at six-thirty every morning. I can’t miss him.” And she couldn’t afford to run into the press, who had started camping out on their front lawn shortly after Matthew’s visit, hoping for a story about her ordeal.

  Jordan had been right about that. She couldn’t face the questions. Not right now.

  “What if he’s not? What if he quit drinking coffee?” Amanda’s voice held an edge of exasperation.

  McKenna stopped five feet from Starbuck’s front door and turned toward her friend. “You say that like you know he won’t be here.”

  Amanda held eye contact with her, used to questioning suspects and their tactics at throwing the police off guard. Her face remained neutral. “I have no idea if Birmingham will be here or not.”

  “Yes. You do.”

  Before her friend could respond, a squad car went careening by them, its lights and sirens flipping on in the process. Amanda’s eyes tracked their movements. The hairs on the back of McKenna’s neck rose as if standing at attention for an invisible General.

  Seconds later, another car whipped past, headed in the same direction the last one had gone. Out of the heart of the city. North and from there anywhere. It didn’t stop her heart from kicking
up.

  “You okay?” Amanda watched her as if she were a juvenile delinquent about to throw a brick through a store window.

  “Yeah.” No. Absolutely not. She clutched the phone in her pocket. “Just curious. And so are you.”

  Amanda nodded as if this were a normal day and conversation. Normal didn’t exist anymore and maybe it never would again. McKenna had to move forward, one foot in front of the other. And that meant talking to Birmingham.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to eliminate some of your questions, by asking your mom first? Seems the more logical route.”

  “I’m…” She wasn’t sure. Of anything. Not about the questions or the answers. The whole idea of meeting with Birmingham had popped into her mind last night and she’d been unable to shake it. And unable to pinpoint what she was looking for either. If she’d arrived with Jordan, she knew the older man would put on a façade so thick, there wouldn’t be a spoon strong enough to stir it.

  “McKenna?”

  “Asking my mom some questions about someone she once dated is awkward. Besides, from what I’ve heard, it was brief.”

  Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “He didn’t make it sound that way in the hospital.”

  Double ick. “People get weird in hospitals. He was probably scared he was dying.” She hoped.

  “Technically, he did die for a minute.”

  “Right.” Every cell urged her to turn around and rush toward the entrance and get this encounter over, but then another cruiser rushed past. Followed by the fire department. And an ambulance. It could mean anything. A fire. A car crash. A high-speed chase gone wrong. A fugitive found. No. No, that couldn’t happen.

  Before she could think about the ramifications, she dialed Jordan’s cell and tried not to do an impatient dance while it rang. Play it cool, McKenna.

  “Where are you?” His voice came out as if they’d merely parted ways at the mall. It calmed her erratic heart.