Too Close to Home

by Alison Stone

  “She’s beautiful.” A pang of loss squeezed Kathryn’s heart. Little Abby had Amy’s eyes.

  “Thank you.” A heartfelt smile lit Peter’s face. “And as the little princess said, it’s bath time. If I don’t do this, Meg won’t let me go out with the boys.” He opened the door and scooped up the small child, who squealed in delight. The pair disappeared into the house.

  “My Uncle Peter remarried a few years ago. My Aunt Meg is only two years older than me.” Kathryn could hear the smile in Benjamin’s voice, although she couldn’t make out his face in the deep shadows of the gathering darkness.

  Benjamin stood and closed the distance between them. “Okay, Ms. McNabb, do you think we can put this investigation to bed? I don’t think anything sinister is going on. It is what it is. A terrible accident.”

  Benjamin pushed open the screen door of his uncle’s house, two ice-cold sodas in hand. He offered one to Kathryn who took it reluctantly. “Come on, take a walk with me,” he said, not quite ready to go home.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Follow me.”

  They walked in companionable silence to an old drive-in about a quarter mile down the country road. When they passed through the entrance, Kathryn released a long breath. “I haven’t been here in over ten years.” She ran her hand along the rough wood of the ticket booth.

  “Careful there. You’ll get a splinter.”

  She pulled her hand away. “Probably last time I came here was with you.”

  “And two of your girlfriends, and I think you insisted my brother come along.”

  A lone light bulb mounted above the ticket booth lit her face, and a soft pink colored her cheeks. “We had fun that night,” she said, a defensive tone in her voice.

  “So did our team of chaperones.” He watched her worry her bottom lip.

  Benjamin reached out and grabbed her hand, her fingers cool in his grip. He swung her arm in a playful motion, leading her to an old metal swing set. He grabbed the rusted chain and offered her a seat. Without saying a word, she sat. He slipped the soda can from her hand and set both drinks on a patch of dirt.

  Grabbing both metal chains, he pulled the swing back and let it go. Kathryn stretched her legs and let her head fall back as she swung forward. A giggle escaped her lips. When she glided back to him, he could smell her flowery shampoo on the soft breeze. Her joy was contagious.

  She put her feet down to slow her momentum. He caught the chain to help, fearing she’d snap off a heel or something. Her shoulder bumped his hip before she came to a full stop.

  Kathryn stood, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Now where’s my drink?” He handed it to her, then she stepped back and cleared her throat. “Okay, here’s my plan. If we’re going to work together, we have to have a truce of sorts.” She took another long sip, the magical mood dissolving around them with each word.

  “Does this mean you’ve given up the idea of selling the place?” Benjamin sat down on the swing and hooked one arm around the chain. He pivoted back and forth on his heel, disappointed their conversation had reverted to work.

  Kathryn shook her head.

  “You can’t sell the place out from under me,” Benjamin said. He scanned the starry sky. Man, he had missed this view.

  “I know. That’s why I need you to seriously consider it.” She rested a hip on the metal pole of the swing set.

  He let out a long sigh. He had spent the better part of his adult life doing his own thing—striking out on his own—after spending a frustrating childhood living in the shadow of his older brother and an overbearing father.

  In the end, his father did need him. Yet he couldn’t help but feel resentful. When his father had finally come calling, it was by default. For some crazy reason, he still felt the need to prove himself. And there was the matter of the promise to his father.

  “You heard Peter.” Kathryn interrupted his thoughts. “Johnny died due to an aging plant.”

  Benjamin lifted his hands. “Whoa, that’s not what he said. Johnny willfully removed the safety guards.”

  She nodded. “True, but a modernized plant wouldn’t allow for shortcuts. We both know Midport Industries cannot afford across-the-board improvements. An outside firm would be more likely to invest money.”

  “Or shut the place down.” He stood and looked down at Kathryn. “But you already know that.”

  She tugged at a loose strand of hair at the nape of her neck, twirling it around her index finger. “I don’t want the plant to shut down.”

  Kathryn stuffed her hands under her armpits and shivered. “Man, it got cold all of a sudden.” He slipped off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. She snuggled into it and tilted her face, a question in her eyes. “Are you determined to hold onto the company for Craig?”

  He shook his head. “Craig plans to make a career out of the military. I’m doing this for me.” His words surprised him. Did he really mean it?

  “I’m doing this for my family.” Kathryn clutched the jacket, drawing it closed at her neck. “My father was brilliant. His patent took Midport Industries to the next level. Deep down, I think your father realized this. That’s why he changed his will.”

  Benjamin heard the grief in Kathryn’s voice. Life had been cruel to her and her family. After Frank had left the company, it had taken him longer than expected to gain employment in Western New York. Many had speculated this led to his suicide.

  “Katie, let’s not do this.” He cupped her elbow in his hand and directed her toward the exit, knowing this conversation could only end badly. “Can you make me a promise?”

  “Depends.”

  “Don’t move forward on this Xenon thing without me?”

  Kathryn stopped in her tracks, tilting her face toward his. “If you can promise me you’ll keep an open mind. When the time comes.”

  Unable to resist, Benjamin ran his knuckle down her cheek. She stepped back and shoved her hand out. “Shake on it?”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  The Watcher sat quietly at a counter seat in the diner. He took one last sip of his coffee and grimaced as it slithered down his throat, coating his sour stomach.

  It was getting late. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. After counting out a couple bills, he threw them down on the counter.

  From the looks of it, Kathryn was going to stick around Midport for a while. She had a chip on her shoulder. Seemed to want to prove something to the world. If she somehow convinced Benjamin to sell the plant, he’d be in a world of hurt. That would totally screw up his plans.

  Someone needed to teach her to appreciate the little things in life. He shook his head, anger bubbling in his gut. He’d learned a long time ago life had a way of changing on a dime. Couldn’t she see that? Couldn’t she leave well enough alone?

  He’d have to keep his ear to the ground. Information wasn’t tough to come by in a town where everyone liked to talk about everyone else’s business.

  He stuffed his arms into his jacket and left the diner. A stiff wind blew in from the west. He zipped his jacket, his chin disappearing into the collar as he trekked across the parking lot.

  Nasty wind. They’d be up to their eyeballs in snow before long.

  Too bad Kathryn’s dear old Dad had started snooping around, found out some things that were none of his business. At least he had only confided in one person about his suspicions, but he hadn’t gone into detail. Probably hadn’t wanted to ruin a man’s reputation without absolute proof. His story wasn’t believable anyway. Who would suspect him? Her father’s virtue had been his undoing.

  A shudder unrelated to the stiff wind raced down his spine. The day her father died had been a turning point. He never thought he’d have to kill someone.

  A voice whispered across his brain. A man has to do what a man has to do.

  He shrugged again, relishing the warmth of his jacket. Pure stroke of genius to make Frank McNabb’s death look like a suicide.


  Chapter Six

  Kathryn pushed through the turnstiles on the way out of the plant after one of the longest weeks of her life.

  T.G.I.F. What an understatement.

  The wind gusted across the parking lot as the late afternoon sun glittered in the puddles from an earlier rain. Thick, pewter clouds loomed in the distance. Snow clouds. Anything was possible in late October.

  The afternoon meeting with the employees hadn’t gone as expected. Her plan was to highlight the company’s renewed commitment to safety and to offer them a means to share their ideas through an old-fashioned suggestion box. Simple, right? Far from it. Instead she got disgruntled employees wanting to know if the rumors were true. Was she planning to sell Midport Industries? When she had avoided a direct answer, she knew she had done nothing to quell their concerns.

  When she reached her car, she placed her briefcase on the roof to dig out her keys. Something felt off. She glanced down and immediately knew why. She slapped her hand against the window. Two flat tires. Just great. She strode around to the passenger’s side. Two more.

  Disbelief swirling in her head, she mumbled under her breath and bent down to inspect one of the tires. A long slice tore through the black rubber. She kicked the tire and pain shot up her leg. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She limped to the other side to get her cell phone.

  A familiar, long, low whistle vibrated to her core. She spun around, not surprised to see Benjamin shaking his head.

  “Why do you always happen to show up right after something goes wrong?”

  Benjamin shrugged. “Lucky for you, I guess? What’s going on?”

  “Somebody doesn’t like me.” Kathryn pointed to the evidence.

  “Maybe they don’t like your car.”

  “Very funny.” She pulled her cell from her briefcase and flipped it open.

  “I’m serious. If you haven’t noticed, everyone around here drives a domestic vehicle. Sometimes a guy gets it in his head all these foreign vehicles are driving his job away.”

  “So that makes it okay?” Her entire body tensed.

  “Absolutely not. But maybe it’s not personal.”

  “It’s personal all right. Someone spilled the beans about me wanting to sell the plant. Do I have you to thank?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned her back and punched in the number for information on her cell. The operator connected her to a towing firm. After giving the driver directions, she flipped her phone closed and turned to face him, planting a fist on her hip. “You plan on offering me a ride?”

  “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, inclining his head. He took a step toward her and reached for her briefcase on top of the car just as she did. Their hands collided, and she immediately dropped her arm to her side.

  “I’ll carry that for you,” he said, sliding the briefcase off the roof. “Unless that’s against the rules.” The corners of his mouth turned up and a hint of mischief danced in his eyes.

  “Whatever floats your boat.” Still stewing about her car, she was tempted to wipe Benjamin’s smug expression off his face. She curled her hands into balls and stuffed them into her coat pockets, just to be on the safe side.

  “Don’t you want to wait for the tow truck?” Benjamin’s green eyes narrowed.

  “No, I’ll leave my keys in the unlocked vehicle.” Exhaling heavily, she pulled her keys out of her pocket. “If someone wants to try to drive it away on four flat tires, they can be my guest.”

  Once cocooned in his warm American-made SUV, she leaned back on the headrest, thinking ahead to a hot bubble bath. A book. Bed.

  “I didn’t tell anyone about your plans to sell Midport Industries.” Benjamin’s tone was remarkably even.

  Kathryn cut him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter. The word is out.

  “You want me to swing by your house so you can change?” Benjamin asked.

  “Change?”

  “You’re going to the company barbeque, right?”

  Poof. The vision of a relaxing evening vanished. She had forgotten about the cookout. “Yes…?” She phrased her answer in a question, hoping for an out, but knowing that in her tenuous position she should use this night as a goodwill gesture.

  “You do know we’re going to a barbeque under a tent, right?” Benjamin said when Kathryn climbed into his car dressed in gray wool pants, leather boots and her long black coat. He felt underdressed in his blue jeans, college sweatshirt and a ski jacket.

  Kathryn shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “With all this rain we’ve had, it might be muddy. You sure you don’t want to run in and change into sneakers and jeans?”

  “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “The tent is heated, but there’s no guarantee you’ll be warm. You have a thicker jacket?” He continued, stifling a grin.

  “I’ll be fine. This coat is warm.” She pulled a piece of fluff off her sleeve.

  Benjamin envisioned her leather boots sinking into the mud, but decided he had pushed it far enough. He put the car into reverse. “Suit yourself.”

  When they arrived at Midport Industries, he noticed a white tent set up on a large, grassy area. His father had started this tradition about eight years ago. “Treat employees like family and they’ll be forever loyal,” his father had been fond of saying.

  Benjamin pulled into one of the last free parking spots in the far side of the lot. No one passed up free food and drinks. When he pushed open the car door, the steady wind delivered notes from some indistinguishable pop tune.

  As they began their trek, Kathryn caught his arm, a serious look in her eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Yeah…?” He invited her to continue. With a tip of his head, he acknowledged a group of men walking a short distance away.

  “I studied the production numbers coming off the lines and compared them to the ship numbers going out the back door of the warehouse. They don’t match.” She spoke in hushed tones.

  “Can we talk about this later?” This woman had a one-track mind. Work, work, work. The tangy scent of barbeque made his stomach growl. The last thing he wanted to do was talk shop out in this cold wind.

  “No, hear me out. This has been weighing on my mind.” She flipped up the collar on her coat and hunched her shoulders against the cold.

  “Okay,” he said, “so the discrepancy means we’re losing parts somewhere.” Benjamin stuffed his fists into the pockets of his jacket, wishing he had gloves.

  The glow of the lampposts shimmered in Kathryn’s wide eyes. “A lot of parts.”

  “You want to round up the troops and point fingers?” He frowned. “Maybe we should do it over potato salad.” His words dripped with sarcasm. She’d never gain the trust of the workers at this rate.

  Kathryn’s shoulders dropped momentarily until she seemed to force them back. “Give me more credit. I want to look into it myself which—” she lowered her voice, “—involves going to the warehouse when it’s empty. I want to check on things without a lot of fanfare. Maybe Sunday night.”

  Kathryn ran a hand along her neat braid. Her delicate fingers worked the loose strands at the base of the rubber band. “Will you come with me? I can’t do it without you,” she finally said, the confession ripped from her lips.

  Benjamin smiled. Gloated, actually. “So you need my help, huh? My sharp eye. My keen analytical skills. My vast knowledge.”

  Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and strode toward the tent. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “Actually, I’ll need a ride.”

  Kathryn and Benjamin filled their plates with food and sat at a picnic table under the tent. Before long, a burly man with a thick beard approached the table. Benjamin stood and greeted him with a handshake. “Kathryn, this is Bud Farley.”

  Before Kathryn had a chance to register the name, the man said, “I hope what I’m hearing isn’t true.” She opened her mouth, but he wasn’t finished yet. “As president of local 770,
I have a responsibility to my fellow union brothers and sisters. You can’t come here and shut this place down. You’ll have a huge fight on your hands.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, staring down at her, doing his best to intimidate her.

  “Now, Bud—” Benjamin started to say, but Kathryn held up her hand, interrupting him. She didn’t need anyone to fight her battles. She stood, meeting Bud eye to eye. Light reflected off his bald head. Working in a predominately male field, she had learned a long time ago not to tolerate any kind of bullying tactic.

  “Bud Farley.” She paused. “It is Farley, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I knew your dad. He’d turn over in his grave if he knew what you were up to. Taking the company he founded—”

  “Take it easy,” Benjamin cut him off, placing his hand on the small of her back. Kathryn hitched her chin up and swallowed the lump in her throat. How dare he mention her father? Her father. She bit her lower lip, trying to quell the anger bubbling in her stomach.

  “Mr. Farley,” she said through gritted teeth, “if you’d like to discuss this with me further, please make an appointment to see me in my office. I’d be happy to review my plans for the company with you and your members when the time is appropriate.”

  Bud thumped the table with his index and middle finger. “Darned straight.”

  Kathryn watched Bud saunter away. She lowered herself onto the picnic bench, her legs like liquid. Not because of Bud’s tactics, but because of the mention of her father. Would he hate what I’ve become? Am I doing the right thing?

  “Don’t take it to heart.” Benjamin leaned close to her ear, his breath whispering across the fine hairs that framed her face. “That’s his job.”

  She shifted, putting some distance between them. “The Bud Farleys of the world tend to be a problem.”

  Benjamin tilted his head, seeming to study her as she smoothed a hand across her hair. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

  “Can’t think of a better way to spend my Sunday evening,” Benjamin shouted over his shoulder, his tone sarcastic. She was in no mood for his comments. Like she didn’t have better things to do than investigate missing parts in the warehouse?