Entitled to Murder (Hawg Heaven Cozy Mysteries Book 6)

by Summer Prescott

  “What did you do? Why were there people after you?”

  “I did things that no human being should ever have to do, and saw things that no one should ever have to see, and I did it because I was ordered to. Very important things depended on the results of my… work. I can’t give you specifics, because you don’t have the security clearance, but it wasn’t good, Rossie. It really wasn’t good,” his voice broke a bit on the last word and he cleared his throat, looking down at his boots.

  “Where are they now? Those people who were after you?”

  The skepticism in her voice stung him.

  “They’ve been… taken care of. In various ways. I couldn’t disclose that even if I wanted to… I’m not privy to that kind of info anymore. The government finally released me, Rossie. I’m a free man… so I came home.”

  “How long ago were you released?” Rossie asked, dreading the answer.

  His eyes pled for understanding as he answered in a low voice. “Not quite a year.”

  Her jaw set and her lip trembled as tears flowed freely now.

  “A year,” she bit out, shaking her head in disbelief. “A year.” Her eyes were filled with accusation and pain.

  “I missed you and Rye every day,” Will offered, as a means of apology, hearing the inadequacy in his words. “I’m so sorry, Rossie. I really am. I suffered, too.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your suffering was self-inflicted.”

  “I’m here now.” He’d been standing on the edge of an emotional precipice, and he had to take the clue from her whether he’d be jumping into a safety net, or into a rock-filled ravine. His statement begged her for a decision.

  “Yes, you are,” she said bitterly. “And I have no idea what to do with that. I can’t even imagine how confused Rye must be at this point.”

  “I talked to him.”

  “Without me?” she was astonished.

  “Rossie, Rye is taking this in stride. What I want to know is where I stand with you,” his voice broke slightly and he stared at the ground, swallowing hard and working up the courage to utter the words that might be among the last to ever pass between them. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to stay, just say the word,” he played his final card, his eyes locking with hers.

  Seeing his obvious agony, Rossie ached for him, but the words that came, unbidden, from her lips didn’t show it.

  “I need time. I can barely wrap my head around this. It’s not fair for you to have had a year to process, and to expect me to just be okay immediately,” she quickly wiped her face with the back of her hand, unable to look at her broken husband.

  He seemed like a stranger, and all that she had ever wanted was to have Will back. Her Will. The man with a wild streak who had wooed and won her with sweet and funny persuasion. Where had he gone? Was he in there somewhere? Will seemed to deflate at her answer.

  “Of course,” his jaw tightened and he looked down, nodding slightly. “We have all the time in the world, Rossie-girl,” his voice was husky. For just a brief moment, Rossalyn caught a glimpse of the man that she had known, and it gave her hope.

  “Good,” she took a deep breath and clenched her jaw, clearly trying to maintain her composure.

  Will stepped to the side, so that she could get into the car if she wanted to. When she stepped close enough that he could smell her familiar scent, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her in his arms. He wanted so much to lose himself in her sweet embrace, just like he used to, but he realized that his touch wasn’t welcome… yet.

  “Can I see you?” he closed his eyes, her nearness tearing him in two.

  “I have your number,” she murmured, and got into the car.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  *

  Chas Beckett took a quick flight to New York on one of Harry Brigman’s corporate jets. Telling the Brigmans only that he had come up with a lead in New York, he had arrived at the home of Joanna Bingham, Wentworth’s birth mother, around ten o’clock in the morning. He had spoken briefly with her on the phone, and had made an appointment for a more in-depth conversation.

  Joanna answered the door, and her nervousness was evident. She was a short, somewhat plump woman, with sandy-blonde hair and big green eyes, just like her son.

  “Ms. Bingham?” Chas asked politely.

  “Yes, hi. You must be Mr. Beckett,” her smile didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. She looked like a scared bunny about to bolt. “Please, come in,” she opened the door and backed out of the way so that he could enter.

  Joanna’s home was sparsely furnished, but immaculately clean and very small. There was a toddler, burbling over a picture book in a playpen, and the child looked so much like his half-brother, Wentworth, that it was startling.

  “This is Ben,” she smiled proudly at the boy.

  “Hi, Ben,” Chas grinned and waggled his fingers.

  Ben looked up briefly from his book, pointed at it, said “froggie,” and was once again thoroughly immersed.

  “He loves animals,” Joanna tried desperately to make conversation. “Can I get you some water or something?” she asked, gesturing for him to have a seat on the well-worn couch.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I just wanted to talk to you for a little bit and then I’ll be out of your hair. It looks like you must be pretty busy,” Chas glanced at Ben with a smile.

  “He does keep me hopping,” Joanna giggled. “My shift at the restaurant starts at two, and I have to get both of us ready and have time to take him to daycare, so…” she began.

  “No worries, I should be long gone by then,” Chas reassured her. “I wanted to talk with you about Ben’s older brother…”

  “I knew it was a boy,” she mused wistfully. “They didn’t even let me hold him, but I just had a feeling, you know?”

  “You never saw your son?”

  “They took him right away. They said the new family was waiting. I never even got to hold him.”

  “Did you go through an adoption agency to place him with a family?”

  Joanna shook her head. “I don’t think so. My parents took care of everything. I was only fifteen,” she blushed and twisted her hands in her lap.

  “Did you have to sign any paperwork?”

  “Not that I remember. It’s all kind of a blur. I didn’t want to give my baby away, but my parents said that I was too young for that kind of responsibility and that they couldn’t afford to take care of another kid.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  “They died in a car accident when I was seventeen. I’ve been on my own since then.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No. Ben’s father headed for the hills when he found out that I was pregnant. Good riddance,” she grimaced and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “So he wasn’t the father of your first child?”

  “No. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bad person… we were going to get married, but he didn’t want kids, so he left when he found out about Ben.”

  “I don’t think that you’re a bad person. Do you know where your first child’s father is?” Chas was very careful not to use Wentworth’s name.

  “No idea. He never knew about the baby. My family moved right after I got pregnant, and they wouldn’t let me contact him,” Joanna shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly fair to him, but I was just a kid. I did what my parents told me to do so that they wouldn’t throw me out on the street.”

  “And you never tried to track down your son?”

  “No. My life has been kind of a train wreck. Mom said that the baby was going to a nice family and would have a good life, so I figured he probably wouldn’t want anything to do with the likes of me,” her eyes misted briefly.

  “Has he ever tried to contact you?”

  “I don’t know. I got a strange email a few weeks ago. Whoever wrote it was asking me a ton of questions about where I was from and what my life was like now, but I figured it was probably one of those identity thef
t scams, so I just deleted it.”

  “And the adoptive parents have never tried to contact you?”

  “Definitely not. My mom said something like if I ever tried to get in touch with them, they would sue, because they wanted absolute privacy or something like that.”

  “Didn’t that strike you as odd?” Chas asked.

  Joanna shook her head. “I was a fifteen-year-old kid. I didn’t really care about what the people who took my baby wanted. I just wanted to try to live a normal life and forget that I’d ever been pregnant.”

  “Did it work out that way for you?” he probed.

  “Not even close. I dreamed about the baby all the time. I ached for him, and sometimes I’d put my hand on my tummy and remember what it felt like when I was carrying him. I never got to hold him, or kiss him…” a tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away embarrassed. “I never even had a choice about it. I was just a dumb kid whose parents made all the decisions. I still miss him. I’ve always felt like there’s been something missing in my life, and I know it’s him. Every time I go to the park, I fantasize that I might run into him, and we’d see each other, and we would just… know. Is he looking for me?” her face flooded with hope. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Chas replied.

  “Oh,” Joanna was crestfallen.

  “Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Bingham. I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions.”

  “Is he okay? Is my baby in danger? Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t say,” Chas shook his head and handed her his card. “Thanks again for your time.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  *

  “So, I did some checking, and Bent Riley’s story checks out. He quit working for the Brigmans about a month ago, and has been taking care of his sick mother ever since,” Spencer reported, when he picked up Chas from the airport.

  “What about the other guy? The one who quit a week ago?”

  “I’ve located Zach Boudreaux, and have tried to contact him, but he doesn’t answer calls, texts, or emails, apparently,” Spencer frowned.

  “Well, unless we get another big lead, I’ll still want you to follow up with him. Show up on his doorstep if you have to.”

  “So, the birth mother isn’t an option?”

  “Oh, she definitely is. She was very nervous, and seemed as though she was trying too hard to appear helpful.”

  “Are you going to keep an eye on her?”

  “I’ve already got Ringo using her email address to hack into her computer. We’ll see what he turns up.”

  “If anyone can find something in cyberspace, Ringo can,” Spencer chuckled.

  Ringo was a rumpled young man with a penchant for junk food, whom Chas had hired to work his computer wizardry.

  “Did you find anything else?”

  “Actually, yeah. The housekeeper has a boyfriend, who has a record, and apparently is pretty jealous.”

  “How does she have a boyfriend if she’s not allowed to leave the house and grounds?” Chas raised an eyebrow.

  “Good question. I’m thinking that if she gets out on occasion, she may have made arrangements to take the kid with her. She doesn’t seem too fond of her employers, maybe she’s going to use the kid for ransom and retire,” Spencer shrugged.

  “You could say the same thing about the household manager, Jasper,” Chas commented, thinking.

  “Yes, but he’s not a fan of the kid—he wouldn’t exactly want to be saddled with him while the negotiations were going on. The housekeeper, on the other hand… ”

  “Would have Wentworth’s complete trust, making it easy for her to abduct him, with a little help from a guy who had done his share of thieving. Good point. Catch up with the boyfriend. See where he was the night Wentworth went missing. I’ll talk to the Brigmans, see if they’ll up the reward for info. Maybe we can lure the kidnapper out with the promise of a hefty ransom, no questions asked.”

  “You know the crackpots will come out of the woodwork,” Spencer warned.

  “Yes, but the Feds are on the case now, and they’ll have to field all those calls. While they’re busy doing that, we can try pushing some buttons with our persons of interest.”

  “So, I’ll talk to the boyfriend first, while you follow up with the housekeeper, then I’ll go out to talk to Zach Boudreaux, although I think that’s really a long shot.”

  “Sounds good. Time is slipping away and we need to find Wentworth fast,” Chas shook his head, worried.

  ***

  “Ken Wakeland?” Spencer called out to Anna’s boyfriend, who was breaking a young horse in a well-kept corral.

  “Who wants to know?” Ken asked, without taking his eyes from the horse. A grey-haired man with heavily tattooed, muscular arms, he held the guide rope steady while they worked, and the spirited young animal was performing admirably.

  “A friend of Anna’s,” Spencer leaned on the wooden fence surrounding the practice ring.

  Ken paused, but didn’t turn around to look at him. “Anna who?” he replied, drawing closer to the horse. Placing one hand on the harness, he led the animal effortlessly to the gate and opened it, taking the horse to a multi-stall barn and securing the gate behind him. He fed the whickering horse an apple, petted his broad, chestnut-colored nose while he spoke softly, then finally turned around to face Spencer.

  “What do you want?” he asked with resignation rather than malice.

  “I think the cops are looking at your girlfriend as a suspect in the kidnapping of that rich kid, the one she works for,” Spencer’s tale came out smoothly.

  “What’s it to you?” Ken frowned, suspicious. “Who are you?”

  “Let’s just say I’m someone who is interested in justice being served. What do you say? You think Anna’s got it in her to kidnap a kid? Maybe retire early?”

  “You better get outta here before I stop being such a charitable host,” Ken growled.

  “Maybe she’s wanting to pay off some gambling debts because you like to play the numbers at the track?” Spencer continued to goad him.

  There was a flicker of panic in Ken’s eyes before he looked away. “What’s your game, man, whaddya want?”

  “Answers. I want answers.”

  “To what?”

  “How often do you and Anna see each other?”

  “Once or twice a week.”

  “Do you go see her, or does she come to see you?”

  “We trade off. Sometimes she sneaks out, sometimes I sneak in.”

  “How do you do that?”

  A smug grin spread across the ex-con’s face. “There are ways.”

  “I’m pretty sure that trespassing is a parole violation, but nobody needs to hear about it if you tell me how you do it,” Spencer threatened lightly.

  Ken’s jaw clenched as his smile faded. “There’s a part of the perimeter wall where the cameras can’t see me because of tree cover. I get in there, stay in the tree line and meet up with Anna.”

  “Meet up with her where?”

  “In the gardener’s shack. Nobody is ever out there at night,” he shrugged.

  “You think she took the kid?”

  “Anything is possible, but if she did, I don’t know about it.”

  Spencer stared at him, looking for tics, signals that he might be lying, and noted that several were present. His steady gaze was unnerving to the man in front of him.

  “Ever seen the kid?”

  “Nope.” Another lie.

  “Ever been inside the estate, other than in the gardener’s shed.”

  “Nope. Look, I ain’t looking for trouble. I got this job, where I can be outside, in the sunshine. I can mind my own business, and nobody messes with me. I ain’t about to mess that up. If Anna snatches a kid, that’s on her,” Ken declared, avoiding Spencer’s eyes.

  “Uh-huh. Supposing she did do this… who would take care of the kid? Where would she stash him?”


  “Heck if I know. She doesn’t have a life outside of that kid and that house,” he grimaced, clearly more than a bit bitter.

  “No family?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “What about you?”

  Ken made a disgusted sound. “Man, I’ve been in the joint. How many people you think are standing in line waiting to help a guy like me out?”

  “I’m sure you have… former business associates,” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

  “My ‘business associates’ don’t wanna hang with somebody who got caught, ya know?”

  “Understandable.”

  “We done here?”

  “For now. Don’t think about disappearing. I’m really good at finding people,” Spencer warned.

  “Told you man, I got a good gig here. Just minding my own business. Ain’t going nowhere,” Ken turned to go and Spencer let him, his mind turning over their conversation.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  *

  Will Channing sat hunched against a wall in the living room of his empty rental house, contemplating his next move, and was surprised when he heard a knock at his front door.

  “It’s open,” he muttered, knowing that the sound would travel through the paper-thin walls and be heard, and no longer caring who might be on the other side of the door.

  “You forget your safety protocols?” Spencer asked quietly, coming in the door and taking in the dismal conditions in which his former brother-at-arms was living.

  Will’s eyes sparked with life, briefly, at the sight of the man who had been his only friend during the past several months, the one light in the darkness that had kept him from retreating from the human race altogether.

  “Don’t much care what happens to me right about now,” he replied candidly, his voice tired and without hope.

  Spencer was carrying a bag and tossed it over to Will, sliding down to a sitting position against the wall, a few feet away. “Figured you could use this,” he said, knowing his friend’s weaknesses well.

  Will pawed through the bag with a faint smile. It was filled with candy bars of every type, along with jerky and spicy meat sticks. “Survival kit,” he commented, setting the bag next to him. “Thanks.”