by Tina Leonard
“I’ll go to Mom’s lockbox at the bank,” Ben suggested. “I know that’s where she kept my original birth certificate. It’s probably a good idea to look at that before we see Dr. Benton.”
Carolyn nodded, opening an appointment book. “I’ll call and schedule an appointment with Dr. Benton.”
Ben put his hand over hers, surprising her. The contact sent warmth shimmering through her, and she found it difficult to meet his eyes.
“Maybe an unannounced visit would be best.”
Carolyn held her breath until Ben removed his hand from hers. She exhaled, forcing herself to think about the words and not the man. “The element of surprise can’t hurt, but we shouldn’t assume Dr. Benton would be unhelpful,” she reminded him.
“Sorry.” He dipped his head somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t mean to sound combative. But Mom’s story has begun to be very real to me. That makes Dr. Benton a bad guy.”
Carolyn nodded slowly. “I can’t blame you for the way you feel.” Whether Douglas Benton was a bad guy or not remained to be seen, but she understood Ben’s need to hope that there was an enemy out there that could be defeated. It must be hellish to be fighting the enemy he was pitted against—his daughter’s disease—with no weapons to rely on.
The love for his daughter was strong in this father. She admired that he so desperately wanted to be able to ride up on a charger and save her. But it also broke her heart. What if he failed? “Leave Lucy with me, if you like, and see if you can locate your birth certificate. We can proceed from there.”
“You don’t mind Lucy staying?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
His eyes settled on her with some unidentifiable emotion. “Thanks, Carolyn. She could use a friend right now.”
Then he got up and walked out the door without saying another word, his shoulders stiff, his back straight. Carolyn bowed her head.
It wasn’t sympathy that made her see Ben in such a rose-colored light. She simply had never stopped loving him, and in the moment when he was suffering the most, she found herself tearing her own heart in two as she struggled not to let herself fall for him all over again.
Falling for Ben Mulholland had been the easiest thing she had ever done—getting over him had been impossible.
* * *
BEN’S BIRTH certificate appeared to be like any other she had seen. Carolyn wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but maybe she’d been hoping against hope that some clue would pop out from the stamped page and point her in the right direction.
But the slightly yellowed Texas state document lay on the desk before her, innocuous and ordinary. She blew out a breath.
“Nothing special there,” Ben said.
She smiled to herself at the tandem tracking of their minds and picked up her purse. “I’ll head to Dr. Benton’s now and see what I can find out.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You don’t need to do that, Ben. Investigating this case is what you’re paying Finders Keepers to do.”
“Trust me. I need to do this.”
Under the circumstances, she could understand how he felt—and she had to admit that she looked forward to his and Lucy’s company as well. “Will a long drive be too hard on Lucy?”
“I don’t think so. She can sleep in the car, and anyway, she enjoys small outings away from the house. She gets cabin fever.”
Carolyn smiled as Ben rose and went into the lounge, where Lucy was engrossed in a conversation with stuffed animals and a plastic tea set Carolyn had unearthed from the main house. She heard Lucy mildly protest at having to leave the new toys behind, before acquiescing to her father’s coaxing. Carolyn’s lungs seemed to squeeze tight inside her. Ben was the parent she’d known he would be. She’d made the right decision all those years ago, and if she’d paid for that choice with unimaginable emotional pain, then it had been the right thing to do. Ben and Lucy adored each other—Carolyn couldn’t imagine one without the other.
She started to call to Ben that Lucy was welcome to take the stuffed animals in the car with her, but then he appeared with Lucy riding on his back. “Someone had taken off their shoes and socks,” he said with a grin.
Carolyn smiled at Lucy. “That sounds like a good thing to do.”
“Mm-hm,” Lucy agreed. She squeezed her thin little arms around her daddy’s shoulders in a sweet hug.
It was like looking at a face full of sunshine. Those corners of Carolyn’s heart that had never known that sunshine absorbed the light wistfully. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go see what we can find out.”
They drove approximately eighty miles north to the Austin address listed as Dr. Benton’s in the phone book. Parking the car, Carolyn didn’t allow herself to become apprehensive about the questions they would pose to Douglas Benton. Because of Lucy’s situation, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything but hope. She tapped on the front door of the house and gave Ben a smile that felt weak, though she meant it to be comforting.
The wooden inside door opened, and a woman peered through the screen door at them.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Douglas Benton,” Carolyn said.
“Why?” the woman asked, her tone suspicious.
Somewhat taken aback, Carolyn looked over the middle-aged woman more carefully. Her hair was unkempt, her figure rounded with lack of exercise. She wore orange polyester pants and a short-sleeved brown shirt. Somehow she didn’t look like the wife of a prominent local doctor. “I’m Carolyn St. Clair,” she said, forgoing introducing Ben for the moment, in case his name alerted the woman to the reason for their presence. “Would you be Mrs. Benton?”
The woman raised her eyebrows and studied the threesome, her gaze hovering on Lucy for a second before returning to Carolyn. “Luckily for me, no.”
Uncertain how to take that, Carolyn pressed forward. “This is the Benton home?”
“It is. But only Mrs. Benton lives here. Dr. Benton died the first week of August, so you’ve just missed him, you might say,” the woman said with a snort.
CHAPTER FOUR
BEN’S HEART contracted at the unwelcome news. He clutched Lucy’s hand tighter in his to calm himself. The unhelpful woman was clearly annoyed with their presence. He decided to allow Carolyn to continue on her course—after all, she was doing her job. He stood still on the porch, torn between giving in to despair and chewing the woman out for her dismissive attitude.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that their mission was one of life-and-death. He had too much invested in the situation, and his desperation was setting his emotions at flashpoint.
Carolyn’s calm voice pushed back the rush of disappointment swelling his heart. “I am sorry to hear of his passing. We were unaware that he was ill.”
The woman shrugged. “What is it you wanted with him, anyway?”
“Actually, it’s a private matter. Could you possibly direct us to Mrs. Benton?”
“I can, but it’ll do you as little good as Dr. Benton.”
To Ben’s surprise, the contrary woman opened the screen door. They stepped into the dark hallway, the musty smell of the house oppressive. A very unpleasant place to live, he thought suddenly. And this was the residence of the man who had helped his mother deliver him. He frowned. If this doctor had been guilty of baby smuggling, wouldn’t he have chosen somewhere better to live?
“Thank you for allowing us to see Mrs. Benton,” Carolyn said. “I realize this is something of an imposition, and I hope she won’t mind us coming without an appointment.”
The woman looked at them for a moment, her expression amused but not in a kind way. “Down the hall,” was all she said.
Ben followed Carolyn, deciding to scoop Lucy into hi
s arms. Something about this house rattled him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He moved into a large room, almost empty, it seemed, of personal effects. Only an overstuffed sofa and a television filled the space—and an old woman in a chair who sat watching “Hollywood Squares,” her back to them.
Carolyn went over to her. “Mrs. Benton?”
The elderly woman ignored her.
“Mrs. Benton?” she repeated. When there was no response, Carolyn glanced at Ben, concerned. “I don’t think she can hear me.”
“Sometimes she can, sometimes she can’t—depends on whether her mind’s fixed or not,” the woman informed them. “She’s got a rare form of brain cancer. Lately she’s more out than in, if you know what I mean. The doctor’s wife ain’t in, ain’t in her right mind.”
“Are you her caregiver?” Ben asked, his disgust growing with every word she uttered.
“As much as I can be. Heaven only knows I’m more of a guard most of the time.”
“A guard?” Carolyn asked.
“She’ll get it into her head that she’s going to drive her car, and if I so much as turn away for a second, she’s out there behind the wheel, angry at the car because she can’t get it to go. I hid the keys, but still she tries.”
Carolyn looked at Mrs. Benton for a few more seconds, her gaze searching the woman’s profile. After a moment, she said, “We’re looking for some records. Is there anyone in charge of the doctor’s records?”
“Just her,” the woman said. “She was his nurse, and his office manager, I suppose. They pretty much worked as a team. You’re not from around here, are ya, or you’d know that.”
“I’m not,” Carolyn said. “This is Ben Mulholland, and his daughter, Lucy. We think that Dr. Benton assisted Ben’s mother in her delivery. We’re looking for Eileen Mulholland’s records.”
“I can’t give you none of that,” the caregiver said, “even if I knew where they were.”
Mrs. Benton turned her head. “Eileen?” she asked in a quavering voice. “Eileen?”
“Eileen Mulholland,” Carolyn repeated softly. Ben’s heart seemed to pause.
Mrs. Benton frowned, obviously trying to sort through something in her mind. “Eileen.”
“Mulholland,” Carolyn said again.
The woman scratched at her hand. “Is she here?”
“No.” Carolyn’s voice was soft. “She died.”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Benton said. “She didn’t die. She’s a healthy farm girl. I took her vital signs.”
Carolyn’s gaze met Ben’s in triumph, but all he felt was a keyed-up sense of fear. He wanted answers, but how were they going to get them out of this addled woman?
Mrs. Benton turned toward the television again, apparently finished.
“Won’t get much out of her,” the caregiver informed them. “You’re lucky you got that much. Say, if this Eileen Mulholland is dead, what are you wanting to see her records for?”
“Eileen Mulholland is not dead,” Mrs. Benton disagreed without taking her attention from “Hollywood Squares.” “I took her vital signs myself.”
“Her health history could help us determine whether little Lucy here is predisposed to any medical problems.”
Ben admired Carolyn’s quick and logical answer. If nothing else, she was managing to squeeze some water from a very difficult stone. He’d have walked away with an empty cup if he’d been in charge of the questioning.
Carolyn took Lucy from Ben’s arms and brought her near to Mrs. Benton, as if to engender a bond between them. To his surprise, Mrs. Benton glanced at the child—then drew back as if she were afraid.
“Is there something wrong with her?” the caregiver asked bluntly, her voice hard as she stared at Lucy. “She looks sick to me.”
Ben took Lucy back from Carolyn and held her more tightly to his chest, willing his anger to burn itself out. Let Carolyn handle this, he reminded himself. If you give this old witch a righteous ass-chewing, you’re going to blow any chance of learning what you need to know.
“I think I’ll go for a drive,” Mrs. Benton said. “I need to drive.”
The caregiver sighed. “No, Mrs. Benton, no drive for you. But if you be quiet, I’ll push your wheelchair in the garden.” She brought a wheelchair over from a side room and helped her charge up, then glanced at the guests. “I think you’ve gotten all you’re going to out of her. Could you see yourselves out? If I leave her while she’s taken a notion to go driving, I’ll come back here and find her gone. One time she walked down the street and tried to get into someone’s house. She kept repeating over and over that she was an orphan and needed a home. Poor devil.”
“We can see ourselves out,” Carolyn assured her. “Thank you for your time.”
“But—“ Ben began, but Carolyn shook her head.
The wheelchair moved toward the back of the house, and they heard a door open and shut.
“I’ll bet she tells everyone she sees that she’s being kept prisoner. She’s probably ‘out’ a lot more of the time than she’s ‘in’ just to survive living with that battle-ax.”
“No,” Carolyn disagreed. “Mrs. Benton’s suffering is real. The interesting thing was, she totally clicked in when anything was mentioned about patients or nursing. Did you notice how that really caught her attention? I have a feeling she was a very competent nurse. It’s the part of her life she seemed very cognizant of. She remembered your mother had been a patient, and that she’d taken her vitals.”
“Great, so Nurse Ratched was a nurse down to her cuticles. How does that help us?”
“It’s something to go on.”
He followed Carolyn as she moved to the front of the house.
“Daddy, can we go yet?” Lucy asked.
“We’ll go, sweetie. I know you’re getting tired.” He was frustrated by the lack of information they’d found, but he injected his voice with kindness for Lucy’s sake. Inside, he cursed, hating the brick wall they’d hit.
Carolyn walked into another room off the hallway, her gaze on the steel filing cabinets lining one wall. “There’s probably a gold mine of information hidden in those steel drawers.”
“I think you need a search warrant or a request or something, Carolyn,” he said worriedly. He’d hired her for her tenacity, but he didn’t know if this much was a good thing. She had a determined gleam in her eye that hinted at her intentions. “Carolyn, if you go through those cabinets and the harpy catches you, she may call the police on us. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“We don’t have a lot of time for legal dancing,” Carolyn said. She pointed to the garden, where they could see the wheelchair being pushed by the unenthusiastic caregiver. “Why don’t you go settle Lucy in the car? I’ll be right behind you.”
“Getting fired from your job isn’t something I want to have you do on my behalf,” Ben said, watching as she walked into the office.
Carolyn ignored him as she opened the first set of steel drawers. “I’m not doing this on your behalf,” she said, her voice preoccupied as she looked into some files. “These files are in a feminine hand, rather than masculine, which makes me think Mrs. Benton was far more than just a simple temperature taker. She was his partner.”
“Miss Carolyn,” Lucy said. “You’re not ‘posed to touch people’s things without asking.”
Ben patted his daughter’s back. “In our home, we teach that it’s not good to just take things we want, Carolyn.”
She glanced up at him, then at Lucy. “I always knew you’d be an excellent father, Ben.”
He frowned. “What does that mean? You make it sound so strange.”
She smiled at his harsh tone. “Sh. You two go outside—you’re wrecking my concentration. I think I’m onto something he
re.”
“You’d better be. The harpy’s on her way back inside.”
Carolyn flipped a page in a file. “There’s no way that’s possible,” she said.
“Oh, yes, it is. She sees our car hasn’t moved, and she knows exactly what we’re doing. Come on, Carolyn.”
“No, I mean, how could the good doctor have been on the outskirts of Austin to deliver you, then deliver a baby four hours away at the same time?”
“I don’t know, damn it! Come on, Carolyn!”
“Daddy! Don’t say damn it,” Lucy protested, but Ben held his daughter tighter and grabbed Carolyn’s arm with his free hand. She stuffed the file back into the cabinet and closed it just as they heard the wheelchair bumping the porch door.
“You are the most hardheaded, intractable, tenacious person I know,” he said between gritted teeth as he hauled her toward the car. He opened the driver side door for her, then went around to the passenger side, so he could strap Lucy in the back seat. Glancing over his shoulder, he was relieved to see that the caregiver wasn’t brandishing a broom or some other weapon at them.
“That’s what you hired me for,” Carolyn snapped. “It was the trait you were specifically looking for.”
“Buckle up,” he commanded. He slammed the door and hurried to the driver’s side, getting in and cranking the engine. The car pulled away from the curb, and he allowed himself a breath. “I don’t want you bending laws, Carolyn. I’m desperate, yeah, but not enough for you to put yourself at risk.”
She ignored him, her forehead creased in thought. “Your mother was about twenty years younger than Dr. Benton’s wife,” she mused.
“So?”
“For someone whose husband had so many patients, it’s odd that she remembered your mother. And her handwriting was clear in that file. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who allowed herself to make errors. We saw how quickly her memory snapped back into place when the nurse in her was called up. Kind of like a policeman or military personnel, who make it a habit to remember times, places, dates and other pertinent facts.”
