The Boy

by Linsey Lanier

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  Parker swept her past Representative Emmett and his sycophants. She cast a smile in the big man’s direction, but he didn’t take the bait. She saw frustration on Parker’s face as he brought her to a halt several feet away from them.

  As if she didn’t have a care in the world, Miranda eyed some of the other guests, then scanned the cream colored wainscoting and pictures along the wall of what she assumed were former governors from past decades.

  “Be right back,” she said to Parker for appearances.

  Then she sashayed straight up to Emmett pretending to be just a little tipsy. “You’re one of the state representatives from Atlanta, aren’t you?”

  Emmett jolted at the sound of her voice. Must have been so absorbed in himself he didn’t see her coming.

  He nodded stiffly. “I am.”

  She stuck out a hand. “I’m Miranda Steele. I think I’ve seen you on the news.”

  He eyed her up and down and recognition dawned on his face. “I know I’ve seen you on the news. You’re a very brave young lady.”

  She acted flattered. “Just doing my job.”

  “Well, I must say our fair city is safer with you and Wade Parker on the job.”

  Must be hoping for a campaign donation. Miranda nodded in Parker’s direction. “Speaking of my husband, he’s out of steam. How would you like to dance with me?”

  His thin brows rose into his receding hairline. She’d surprised him. But he recovered quick enough.

  “Why certainly, Ms. Steele.” He raised a pair of thick, lobster like arms.

  Whatever it takes, Miranda thought as the bulky man’s embrace went around her. He took her hand and waltzed her back out onto the floor.

  He was lighter on his feet than she’d expected. And actually a pretty good dancer. She wondered what else about him was deceiving.

  She aimed to find out.

  “I know it’s unladylike to eavesdrop,” she said, summoning her best imitation of a giggle. “But I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation in the other room. About Senator Wade Hughes?”

  He pulled back and narrowed his eyes at her. “I’d rather not ruin this dance with talk about him.”

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  “He’s managed to quash every piece of legislature I’ve authored for the past ten years.”

  “Really?” That could cause resentment.

  “Transportation is my passion, Ms. Steele. I’m bound and determined to heal our woes in that area, but the Senator suppresses every plan I come up with.”

  “What a bully.”

  “Bully’s a good word for him. He was certainly a bully in school. He used to tease my younger brother unmercifully.”

  “How terrible.”

  “He also made passes at my sister until I put a stop to that.”

  “Oh, my.” That could be a reason to harbor a grudge for a few decades. “I’ll bet you’d like to get back at him for that.”

  “I intend to. I’m going to support whoever runs against him in the next election. I’ll see Perry Ward Hughes lose his seat if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Sounds like you might need some powerful friends to pull that off.”

  “I have friends enough.”

  Before she could ask who they were, the song ended and Emmett deposited her back at Parker’s side.

  “That was delightful, Ms. Steele. But if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”

  He turned and headed toward the other side of the room.

  ###

  Parker leaned in close. “Profitable?”

  “Not sure. He has a grudge against the senator that goes back to school days. Says Perry bullied his brother and made passes at his sister.”

  Parker swirled his drink. “Yes, I remember Perry making fun of a younger boy. Now that I think about it, it was Fenton Emmett’s brother Dale.”

  She was thinking of calling in Wesson to tail the representative when Perry Ward Hughes himself appeared in the doorway.

  He made his way over to them. “There you are. Do you mind if I dance with your wife a moment, Wade?”

  Parker turned casually to see where Emmett had gone. Wouldn’t be good to be seen fraternizing with the political enemy.

  Miranda watched the representative amble out the far door with some of his cronies. Coast clear.

  “Of course not, Perry,” Parker said. “But you must return her to me.”

  “I certainly will.” He held out his hand and again Miranda stepped onto the dance floor.

  This time it was a slow number. Good thing. She needed a break.

  When they were across the floor and well hidden among the strangers, he spoke quietly.

  “Rebecca told me she talked to you earlier.”

  His thick pale gray hair seemed a little whiter than when she’d last seen him, and his watery blue eyes had the same look of fearful despair as his wife’s.

  “Yes,” Miranda said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give her good news.”

  “She’s very upset. She mentioned you spoke to Erica?”

  “Yes. Parker and I did.”

  “How…how is she?”

  That’s what he wanted to talk about?

  “She’s fine.” As in she’s over you and moved on with her life.

  “You must think I’m a terrible cad.”

  “I think you’re a client. Your son is missing and you’re distressed.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  “I’m focused on the job.”

  He gazed out at the other dancers without really seeing them. “I was hoping Erica had taken him. It would make things uncomfortable but it would be so much easier.” His grip tightened around Miranda’s waist. “Can’t you tell us something about Dylan? Anything?”

  She opened her mouth, not knowing what to say. “I don’t want to give you false hope. I’m sorry, Senator.”

  He shook his head. “No, I understand. Really I do.” Once more he scanned the crowd.

  She was thinking of asking him about Fenton Emmett when he frowned.

  “Is that who I think it is?”

  Miranda turned her head in the direction Perry was looking and saw a thin young man standing next to Parker. “Who do you think it is?”

  “Eustace DeBow. He looks so much like Brent.”

  “Brent?”

  “His father. I went to school with him. We were good friends. We worked together at the bank for a time.”

  Miranda’s ear pricked up. Was this Brent DeBow another rival? “Is Brent DeBow here tonight, too?”

  Perry shook his head, his expression growing even wearier. “Brent’s gone. In fact, Eustace lost his whole family in a tragic accident nine years ago.”

  How awful. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “I haven’t seen him since the funeral. It was a terrible time. I need to speak to him. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  They stopped dancing and strolled back across the floor to where Parker stood with the young man.

  He wasn’t tall. Parker must have had half a foot on him. But everything about Eustace DeBow said well-bred. His head was covered with styled blond-streaked hair cut short at the sides and piled into gel-laden curls on the top. His suit, expensive and tailored to fit him just so, was a deep plum pinstripe with a dark blue shirt and striped tie set off with a diamond stickpin.

  The look was youthful enough to make him seem like a young man at his first prom.

  She put him in his mid-twenties.

  He wasn’t exactly thin, but lean in a muscular sort of way. Obviously worked out, probably in an exclusive club. Despite his personal tragedy he was the picture of health. He stood gazing over the dance floor, a hand at his narrow chin. His thick expressive brows seemed to be forever asking a question—or doubting the answer.

  Perry held out a hand. “Eustace. It’s so good to see you.”

  “And you
, Senator,” the young man said in a bland tone as he shook hands. He spoke with the same elegant southern accent Parker had, with a faint touch of England.

  “Please, call me Perry. Your father and I were such good friends. All three of us were, weren’t we, Wade?”

  “When we were young, yes.” Parker turned to her. “Miranda, this is Eustace DeBow, son of one of my old school friends.”

  “Yes. Perry was just telling me about your father.” Miranda extended a hand as well.

  As he took it DeBow’s eyes lit up with recognition. Like everybody else, he’d probably remembered seeing her on the news. But he was classy enough not to say so.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said.

  “Thank you, Ms. Steele. It was some time ago, but of course I still think of them.”

  “We all miss Brent,” Perry added.

  DeBow put his hands behind his back and stared down at the floor. He was about to say something when the lights went down and the woman in charge of the fundraiser stepped up to a microphone near the orchestra.

  She thanked everyone for attending, then spent about twenty minutes introducing all her volunteers and giving recognition to the biggest donors. She finished the presentation by asking everyone to pledge even more next year.

  “Did we give anything?” Miranda whispered to Parker.

  “I wrote a check earlier.”

  He was always generous, especially when it came to—“Where’s the money going?”

  “Autism research.”

  A good cause, she thought, applauding with the others as the lights went back up. The music started up again but most of the guests began wandering toward the door. It was getting late.

  Perry Ward Hughes had slipped away somewhere, but Eustace DeBow was still at her side.

  “I hope I’m not too late to make a donation. I wish I had arrived earlier. I don’t get out very often.”

  He seemed so pitiful and lonely. And a little socially awkward. Her heart went out to him. “Would you like a dance before I have to go?”

  “That would be so kind of you, Ms. Steele.”

  “You don’t mind, do you, Parker?”

  Parker gave her a gentle smile. “Of course not. Enjoy yourselves.”

  She raised her hands and let DeBow sweep her out onto the floor.

  Chapter Forty-One

  He was a good dancer. Energetic, light on his feet. In fact he seemed much happier than he’d been a minute ago.

  As Perry had done, he danced her into the middle of the floor, then to the opposite side, away from Parker. She was wondering whether he had something to tell her when he did a fancy turn followed by a sudden dip.

  She had to laugh. “You’re really good.”

  He laughed with her. “I got my training in boarding school.”

  “It must have been a quality one.”

  “It was a top institution near London, actually. Nothing but the best for the DeBows, as my father used to say.”

  Miranda felt awkward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up old memories.”

  “Oh, I’ve been living with memories for some time now.”

  Again her heart went out to the young man. He seemed so alone. She made an attempt to change the subject. “May I ask what you do for a living?”

  “A living?” He seemed confused a moment. “My father was rather wealthy. He left me enough to get by.”

  “I see.”

  “He was part owner of the NSX.”

  “NSX?”

  “One of the local railroads.”

  “Really?”

  Railroad? A single shiver worked its way up Miranda’s spine. Suddenly DeBow’s fingers seemed cold, the sensation of them against her skin uncomfortable.

  She had to be overreacting.

  “My father loved trains,” DeBow said. “It was his passion. Actually he passed that down to me. I inherited a large model railroad collection from him. Adding to it is my pastime now.”

  “How interesting.”

  Trains? Model railroads? The shivers began to spawn. Slowly they waltzed up her bare back, her arms, her throat.

  “I do spend most of my time alone and I’ve realized that isn’t good. I’ve decided I need to get out more. Have company.”

  “Sounds like a healthy idea.”

  “That’s why I decided to attend this fundraiser tonight, though it was at the last minute. That was why I was late. I live a long way away.”

  “I see,” she said again. “Where’s that?”

  “Dalton. It’s over eighty miles from here.”

  She’d heard of it. It was to the north somewhere.

  “In fact, I’m planning a tea tomorrow afternoon. Just a few guests. Would you and Mr. Parker like to come? It would mean so much to me if you did.”

  Something in the way he said the words, perhaps that he seemed too eager, perhaps the sudden glint in his eyes, put her off. She caught the scent of mint on his breath. He was too close.

  She stepped back. “Tomorrow? I’m afraid we’ll both be in the office then.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. I don’t keep regular hours myself. Sometimes I forget the rest of the world does.”

  Again his lonely words tugged at her heartstrings. The railroad thing was just a coincidence. She’d been working too many long hours without enough food and rest. She had trains on the brain.

  “We might be able to get away. I’ll see what Parker says.”

  His face brightened. “Oh, thank you so much. I’d be so happy if you could come.”

  The music stopped and he reached into his coat pocket for a card. “Here’s the address. Is three o’clock too early?”

  She took the card and studied the gold embossed script.

  Eustace DeBow, model railroad consultant. There was an address but no phone number.

  “Occasionally I help at the museum in Kennesaw.”

  Railroad. Kennesaw. The shivers were back and this time they were ringing an alarm bell in her head.

  But she dished up a smile for DeBow. “I hope we can make it. I’d love to stay and chat but we have an early day tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” He made a polite bow and smiled.

  If she wasn’t mistaken there was something off about that smile. As well as in the look of his blue eyes.

  “Good evening, Mr. DeBow. It was a pleasure.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Steele.”

  As she turned and hurried across the floor to find Parker she could feel DeBow’s gaze lingering on her bare back.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  It was after midnight when they stepped inside the entrance hall of the penthouse. Loosening his tie Parker started for the stairs but Miranda went straight to the computer.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Research.”

  She plopped down onto the black lacquered chair in front of the big flat screen where it sat at the window overlooking the city, and attacked the keyboard.

  Parker crossed the room to peer over her shoulder. “On Eustace DeBow?”

  “Something about him gave me the creeps.”

  Without a word, Parker disappeared into the kitchen. By the time he returned with two cups of hot coffee and set them on the desk she had some data.

  He laid his strong hands on her bare shoulders and began to work out the kinks with his thumbs.

  Oh, my. That felt good.

  So good she was sorely tempted to call it a day and head off to bed with him. But she couldn’t do that. Not while a little boy was missing. For just another moment she closed her eyes and indulged herself.

  Then she got back to work.

  “Look at this.” She pulled up an old news article as Parker settled into a chair beside her.

  They scanned it together.

  Nine years ago around eleven o’clock at night an Amtrak passenger train was on its way to New Orleans, heading out west. Just outside Lafayette, Louisiana the engine slammed into an eighteen wheeler that had stalled on
the tracks.

  Miranda scrolled to the disturbing photos. Even after all this time the sight took your breath.

  The mangled yellow diesel engine lay on its side, its gnarled iron twisted into a sickening shape. The bright orange smoke-and-blaze cloud billowed into the dark night while firefighters stood on the tracks bravely battling the flames with their hoses. The truck that had been hit lay wheels up alongside the track near the railroad signs.

  It was barely recognizable.

  “A hundred people were injured and fifteen killed, including Eustace DeBow’s father, mother, and his thirteen-year-old brother.” Miranda put a hand to her head as she stared at the photo. “Dear Lord.”

  “One of the worst train disasters in history,” Parker read aloud with a deep sigh. “Terrible tragedy. I remember it now. Gen was just seventeen at the time. Sylvia and I wouldn’t let her watch television for a week so she wouldn’t see the coverage.”

  Kind of like what they tried to do with Mackenzie two weeks ago.

  “Do you remember them?” She brought up one of the obituary photos of Brent DeBow and his wife Susannah together.

  It had been taken at some social affair like tonight’s fundraiser. Brent was in a black tuxedo looking dashing. Susannah was stunning in a cobalt blue gown, her long strawberry blond hair curling over her bare shoulders. Eustace had inherited his mother’s narrow chin and questioning expression, she could see.

  “I do remember them. What a loss.” Parker sounded weary.

  “Do you remember this?” Miranda highlighted a line of text. “Susannah Emmett DeBow, beloved wife of Brent DeBow, cherished sister of Fenton Emmett.”

  Parker stiffened. “Yes, now I do. Susannah was Representative Emmett’s sister.”

  “The one Perry Ward Hughes made passes at in high school?”

  “Let me think a moment.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin while Miranda took a sip of hot, fortifying coffee.

  She was almost half done with her cup when Parker spoke again.

  “It’s coming back to me. Susannah was a few months older than Perry. They struck up a relationship when we were in our last year of upper school at Westminster. I wasn’t in their circle any longer so I didn’t pay much attention.”