Another Man's Son

by Glenys O'Connell

  Her eyes, those lovely green eyes that he’d once wanted to drown in, widened. “There’s no…”

  Once again he waved away any attempt she might make at explanation. He wanted no more of her deceit. The surety that she’d already been carrying Ket Morgan’s child when he’d slept with her, loved her, was like a poison ivy rash on his emotions, itching and refusing to heal.

  “Just tell me why you’re here, and it had better be police business,” he said brusquely, and he enjoyed a little whisper of satisfaction when she flinched at his tone.

  “My husband was very angry about last night…he completely misjudged the situation.” Kathryn swallowed nervously. “I didn’t come here to ask you for anything other than your help.” She chewed at her bottom lip again, and Ben noted her hands were tightly clasped on her lap. He steeled himself to ignore these signs of her distress.

  “Oh, I get it.” He slowly sat up in his chair as if he’d suddenly seen the answer to a question that had been puzzling him. “You’re afraid that if your rich meal ticket gets the idea that maybe you have a past history with the town’s hired help, he’ll cut off the goodies you’re enjoying?”

  She flew to her feet, her face turning red as she slapped her hands against his desk. “How dare you? How dare you talk to me that way, after what—”

  “After what, Kathryn? Are you scared I’ll ruin your little gravy train by telling your husband you were sleeping with me while he was courting you?”

  Kathryn subsided back into her seat as though the outburst had drained all her energy, and Ben had to lean forward to catch her words.

  “He already knows about us. That’s why he was so angry last night.” She rubbed her upper arms through the light sweater she wore. He noticed her shiver even though the office was quite warm, and her voice was almost a whisper as she continued. “I need your help—if not as a…a friend, then as a law officer. My husband has kidnapped my son.”

  Ben leaned back in his chair, studying her. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

  “Are you divorced or separated from your husband?” He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart at the implications, but she shook her head, the expensively-cut dark hair gliding over her face.

  “Well, do you have a sole custody order of some kind?” Again, the ebony hair glided over her face as she shook her head. “Then what do you mean…how can he have kidnapped his own child?”

  She flinched once more, and Ben’s chest tightened. Against his better judgment, he was accepting that her distress was real.

  “As you know, Ket and I…well, we argued. He left me at the party, and I…I didn’t get home until this morning.” Kathryn stopped to take a deep breath and continued before he could ask any of the additional questions forming in his mind. “The housekeeper said Ket had taken Alex out early this morning. And now I don’t know where he is.”

  “Didn’t your husband leave you a note? I bet the pair of them will come strolling home later today, fishing poles in hand…” Ben was using the same kind of jocular uncle tone he’d used dozens of times before when talking to frantic mothers. And most of the time, he’d been right.

  “Ket never takes Alex fishing. Or anywhere else.” This frantic mother looked at him as though he’d gone insane. “My husband came home half an hour ago. He says he has no idea where my son is.”

  “So why isn’t he here with you? He must be distressed if the boy wandered off while they were out together.”

  Again, that look of incredulity. “No, he’s not distressed. He doesn’t care. I think he knows where Alex is and he’s using him to make me pay for what happened between you and I at the banquet.”

  Ben stared. Against his will, his lips, heart, and soul remembered that kiss. He heaved a sigh. “Look, Mrs. Morgan, I don’t know what kind of games you and your husband play, but there is no role for me in all this.” He paused to let the double meaning of his words sink in. “So long as the child is being cared for, there is nothing I can do…even if your husband has taken him. You will have to get yourself a lawyer, get a custodial order from the courts, and then I can look for the boy if your husband still refuses to produce him. But I’d advise you to go home and talk to your husband—”

  Kathryn laughed, a stark, harsh sound that startled them both. “Talk to my husband?” She spoke the words as if they were absolutely ridiculous. “Ket’s not that kind of man…he won’t listen to me. Talking won’t help…” the words trailed off as though she had already said too much.

  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you, either.” The coldness of his voice surprised even him.

  “You have to help us!” she tried again.

  “Why? Because you’re married to a Morgan?”

  “No, because…” She obviously had more she wanted to say but he didn’t know if he was ready to hear it.

  “Don’t play these games with me, Kathryn. It’s too late. You made your choices, and now you’ll have to help yourself.”

  She glared at him to hide the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, then turned to leave. He had to admire the lithe grace she displayed, the womanly poise in her straight spine and head held high. Then, at the door, she turned on him, eyes blazing. “You have to help us—there’s nobody else!”

  Chapter Four

  Tess was just coming into the room with a tray of coffee things as Kathryn stormed out. Swerving to avoid spilling the hot liquid, she rolled her eyes then set the tray down on the desk.

  “I take it Mrs. Morgan didn’t want to stay for coffee?” she asked Ben, her tone sarcastic. “What’s wrong with her, anyway? She looks like someone’s taken her favorite toy away.”

  Ben hesitated. He didn’t want to gossip, certainly didn’t want Kathryn’s troubles known all over town. Though why he felt this sudden protective surge, he couldn’t contemplate.

  “Oh, don’t worry, everyone knows everyone else’s business in this town. And while there’s some who think she’s just a little gold digger, there are others who wouldn’t blame her going for the chance to marry a bit of money. Not when you look at where she came from, with old Fitzgerald too drunk every night to even see if his daughter had something to eat and clothes on her back.”

  Uninvited, Tess poured coffee, handing a cup to Ben then taking the visitor’s cup for herself and perching on the edge of a hard wooden chair. Ben knew he shouldn’t encourage her, but his curiosity got the better of him.

  “So what else do they know in town?” he asked casually.

  “Well, they know you were born here, that you’ve done pretty well for yourself, being a hero in the army and getting into the police and all that. Most people think it’s a shame you were wounded, or maybe you’d have been bound for greater things than…” Tess stopped suddenly, her cheeks flaming. “Sorry. I have a big mouth.”

  Ben grinned, relaxing finally after Kathryn’s visit. “No, not at all. The wounding did put a crimp in my career,” he said, happy to emblazon his cover story. The truth was he’d recovered well and gotten a promotion in the bargain.

  “The gossips also remember you went out with Kathryn for a few dates, back then. Said you seemed mighty fond of each other. Then you just disappeared and the next thing is she’s married to Ket Morgan and has the world at her feet.”

  Ben knew Tess was watching him covertly, observing his expression for future dissemination with her friends. He took a long swallow of his coffee, considering his reaction.

  “That was a long time ago. She’s done a lot better for herself than hanging onto a poor police officer with no prospects,” he said, grinning disarmingly and enjoying the sweep of color in Tess’s cheeks.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think any girl would find you a pretty good catch.” The color deepened in her cheeks, and Ben took pity on her.

  “Well, I bet most would think Ket Morgan was a pretty good catch, too.”

  “Maybe some would, but not that many around here envy Kathryn.” Tess’s tone took on a serio
us note. “They say there’s not a lot of happiness up in the fancy house that Ket’s granddaddy built. In fact, there wasn’t a lot of happiness up there before Ket and Kathryn married. I’d say she has her work cut out for her.”

  Ben itched to question her further, but to do so would only set fuel to the speculation about his relationship with Kathryn. And obviously, there was enough of that already. Anyone knowing their history and witnessing the incident at the banquet would be forgiven for adding two and two together and getting five.

  Ben turned the conversation around asking Tess if she enjoyed her job and about her family and her boyfriend, a police officer on traffic patrol. A few minutes later, she gathered up the tray of coffee things and left him to digest all that had been said.

  He reluctantly returned to his study of the files, determined to shut out any thought of Kathryn’s troubles. She had nothing to do with him, and he refused to get involved in whatever game she was playing.

  Then he found a record of an arrest for assault, and the name of the arrestee sounded familiar. Noting that the charges had been dropped, Ben searched back through some earlier documents. There it was—three previous arrests for assault attributed to one Bertie Hanover. Reading the files, Ben quickly saw the assaults were all made against members of the committee trying to unionize the workers at the Morgan Shoe Factory. In addition, Hanover himself was an employee of the factory. Charges were dropped in all cases.

  “No smoke without fire,” he muttered to himself, keying the name into his computer and requesting any information available from statewide law enforcement records about the man. He made a note of Hanover’s address in his notebook and determined to stop by on some pretext to chat with him. Maybe, too, he could chat with some of his colleagues and find out why a man with three consecutive charges of assault laid against him had not made a single court appearance. Charges had been dropped in each instance, and Ben didn’t believe in such coincidences.

  He was just slipping on his jacket when the intercom sounded on his desk. “Looks like you’re having a Morgan family day, Sheriff,” Tess said. “Ket Morgan’s secretary just rang and commanded your presence up at the big house. They’d like to see you as soon as possible.”

  ****

  Kathryn paced the length of the spacious living room, oblivious to the luxury of its furnishings, her mind engaged with her current anxieties. She no longer noticed the opulence of the big house and always felt more like a visitor than the mistress of the twenty rooms filled with antiques and works of art. Not to mention being treated like an inept servant rather than the wife of the man who lounged comfortably on the white leather sofa, reading the financial section of a newspaper and occasionally directing a mockingly cruel grin in her direction.

  Worry about her son had finally pushed away the question that rose more and more often in her mind—had she done the right thing? Kathryn had known from the beginning that her life as Ketler Morgan’s wife would not be an easy one, but nothing could have prepared her for the bitter reality. Yet she would take all the punishment and humiliation, the unhappiness and loneliness, for Alex’s sake. With the Morgan name and wealth behind him, the boy would have a bright future. But what if Ket was now determined to destroy the child? What would he gain?

  The sound of the door chimes jolted her back to reality. Ket had been furious when he’d learned she’d been to see Ben about Alex’s disappearance, but if she’d hoped that would make him confess he had the boy and bring him back home, she’d been well off the mark.

  Ket had stuck to his story that Alex had wandered away when they stopped for gas and he had no idea where the boy was. Challenged, Ket had insisted it was a boyish prank and Alex would eventually find his way home.

  “You’ve always spoiled the brat rotten, mothering him, turning him into a whining momma’s boy. It’ll do him good to have a taste of reality,” he’d told her, grinning maliciously.

  “But the child’s barely seven—he’s far too young to be out on his own!” Kathryn protested.

  Her words were met only by mocking silence.

  Screwing up all her courage, Kathryn persisted. “Which gas station where you at when Alex…disappeared?”

  “What the hell difference does that make?” Ket snapped, glaring at her.

  Kathryn swallowed and took a deep breath. “Because I went to see Sheriff Asher earlier…”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Ket exploded angrily. “You did what? I thought I warned you not to go sniffing around your old boyfriend!”

  “I thought it would be a good idea if I could tell him where Alex was last seen so that if…” she fought back tears. “…so that if he’s not home by this evening, they could go and look for him.”

  The idea of her having further contact with the acting sheriff seemed to add more fuel to the smoldering anger which always rode on Ket’s shoulder. He left his seat to stand threateningly over her and for one horrified moment, she thought he’d really lose his temper and hit her. But he pulled back from the brink, contenting himself with a vicious pull of her hair, then ordered Andrew Shepherd, his secretary, to call Ben and ask the acting sheriff to dance attendance.

  Since then, Kathryn had been in a lather of anxiety, not only about her son, but also about her husband’s unpredictable temper. Why had he summoned Ben? She hoped against hope that he was going to give the law officer the truth, or at least get him looking for Alex. But she knew Ket too well to really believe that,

  ****

  They were waiting for him in the living room. At least, Ben assumed you’d call it a living room; it was about the size of an average ballroom and about as homely and welcoming as an upmarket hotel foyer.

  As the housekeeper took his jacket and led him through the wide front entry hall toward the double doors to the living room, Ben couldn’t repress the bitter thought that Kathryn had certainly known what she was doing, shooting for the brass ring with Ket Morgan.

  She was pacing the room when he entered, but whirled around in time to catch the harsh contemptuous look on his face. Her expression closed against him, but not before he’d seen the raw pain and longing that appeared there. For what? For her missing child? Or for him?

  Too bad, baby—you can’t have it all. He turned his attention to Ket Morgan. The slender, fair-haired man was handsome, he supposed, in a boyish way. He was slumped and apparently quite at ease on the expensive, white leather sofa, his calm lack of concern at total odds with his wife’s distress. Despite himself Ben felt a curl of distaste that went beyond his own suspicions that the man was guilty of criminal acts.

  “You asked to see me, Mr. Morgan?” He kept his voice neutral and managed to sound as if he’d just dropped around when he had time, rather than rushing to answer Morgan’s summons. He disliked the demand to appear and had to admit to some spite as he had certainly broken no speed records in getting to the house.

  “It took you long enough to get here. I hope citizens in great need of rescuing from criminal elements in Lobster Cove don’t have to wait as long for your attention,” Ket said lazily, not bothering to hide the edge of contempt in his voice.

  Ben bristled and Kathryn, looking pale and frightened, glanced anxiously at the two men before offering them drinks.

  “I’ll have my usual, darling,” Ketler drawled when Ben shook his head. Kathryn flashed him a look, opened her mouth as if to snap a reply to her husband, then seemed to think better of it, and mildly walked toward the antique oak cupboard that housed a selection of bottles and glasses. She played her hostess role hollowly, going through the motions while her mind was obviously distracted.

  “So, what can we do for you, Acting Sheriff Asher?” Ket Morgan asked as he accepted a glass of fine malt whiskey from his wife. Ben noted the man didn’t so much as glance at Kathryn, nor did he thank her for the small service. He found himself wondering just what kind of marriage this was—then stopped himself. For the sake of his own pride, and his sanity, he didn’t want to know a
bout Kathryn’s marriage. He was determined to keep this to a professional relationship—with him as a law enforcement officer and she a potential witness in the criminal case he was building against her husband. That thought made his chest tighten because it would be a kind of betrayal. But nothing like her betrayal.

  Dragging his thoughts back to the present, Ben was uncomfortably aware that Ket Morgan was staring at him with undisguised dislike and contempt. The sooner he figured out what was going on here, the better.

  “If you remember, you asked to see me, Mr. Morgan. Your wife came to see me this morning and seems to think your son has been kidnapped. Perhaps you’re now of the same opinion?”

  “My son…” The bitter smile on Morgan’s face seemed almost a grimace of pain. “Yes, yes, I know now he’s been kidnapped.”

  Kathryn gave a little gasp of shock, and Ben could see her hands clench into fists, the pink-tipped nails biting into her palms. He wondered if Ket Morgan knew how angry his wife was and how hard she was trying to restrain herself from pummeling the man’s smug face with those delicate fists.

  “Kathryn…Mrs. Morgan seems to feel you know where the boy is.”

  Darn it. Ben couldn’t fail to see the anger that slashed across Ket’s face at the use of his wife’s first name. He had to remind himself to not be so familiar, even though his hormones still set up a mighty clamor at the very sight of Kathryn.

  “I was under the impression my wife didn’t feel much of anything, Asher.” Ket flicked a cruel look at his wife, adding, “Although, of course, you might know better about that than I.”

  “Okay, Morgan, just what is this all about? Your son disappears. First, you say he wandered off and now you say he’s been kidnapped. Your wife seems out of her mind with worry, and you don’t seem to give a damn about anything except making snide remarks about some unimportant events in the past.” Ben could barely control his own temper, but he regretted the words when he heard Kathryn’s sharp intake of breath.