Son of the Enemy

by Ana Barrons

  She had begun to do that when her attention was caught by a tall, lean figure in a dark suit walking purposefully through the sliding doors at the entrance to the ER. Bill Smythe’s dark eyes met hers, and Hannah sensed the violence behind his gaze. She stood and the jacket slid off her shoulders. He stalked over to her without a glance at anyone else.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” There was alcohol on his breath. “You have balls, lady, for showing your face in this hospital.”

  Hannah stepped back as though he’d slapped her. “I came with Christian, in the ambulance.” Her mouth felt suddenly very dry. “We tried to reach you but no one could find you. Your wife’s here.”

  Smythe moved closer, causing her to take another step back. From the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Thornton come to his feet.

  “If anything happens to my son, I will nail you to the wall, Hannah.” He poked his forefinger into her chest. “And I won’t quit until—”

  What happened next was a blur. John came charging up from behind her, grabbed the front of Smythe’s shirt and pushed him up against the wall.

  “You keep your hands off her, you bastard.” His voice was eerily controlled.

  Hannah was so stunned that for several seconds she was speechless.

  Smythe’s eyes were wide as they darted between John and the nurses’ station, where two nurses and a receptionist stood stock-still, mouths open. “Let go of me,” he said, but he had lost most of his bluster. John leaned into him.

  “You’re Christian’s father, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone almost conversational.

  Hannah grabbed John’s arm. “Let him go, John, he’s just upset. He hasn’t even seen Christian yet.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “No? So it’s more important for you to harass the woman who’s been trying to help your son than to go in there and see him?”

  “John!”

  “Let’s all calm down,” Thornton said from beside her. “Hannah’s right. The man’s son is lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It’s only natural that he’d be a little irrational.”

  “Let go of him,” Hannah said. “He didn’t hurt me.”

  John let go and Smythe took a deep breath, straightened his clothes and slid a hand over his hair. “Is this your personal thug, Hannah?” he said, his eyes avoiding John’s. He pulled the top of his shirt away from his neck as though it was choking him and twisted his head, grimacing. “I thought you had Bradshaw for that.”

  Hannah felt Thornton tense beside her. Bill turned to him as though he’d just noticed he was there, but Hannah wasn’t convinced. “Well, well,” he said. “If it isn’t Mister Big himself.”

  “Sorry to hear about your son,” Thornton said stiffly. “I hope he’ll be okay.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know where Christian got that coke, Bradshaw. Ty doesn’t have to go far to find a dealer, huh? All he has to do is walk into the house and ask one of your boys.”

  Thornton’s eyes flashed pure hatred but his voice remained silky smooth. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Bill. I’ll let it go this time because of the circumstances, but if you insist on throwing unfounded accusations around you will be hearing from my attorney.”

  Smythe laughed. “If the police searched your house right now, I’d bet a million dollars they’d find drugs. You think spreading your money around can fool people into thinking you’re a law-abiding citizen, Bradshaw, but I know better. I know all about you.”

  “Bill,” Hannah said. “Just go in and see Christian, okay? This is getting you nowhere.”

  “I think you should listen to the lady,” Bradshaw said with a smile that defined the expression ‘sharklike’. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “She’s a smart cookie.”

  “Sure she is.” Smythe regarded Hannah with an expression of disgust. “She knows who to spread her legs for to keep her precious—”

  Hannah gasped as John grabbed Bill by the front of his shirt and got in his face. “Excuse me?” he said. “I thought I heard you insult Ms. Duncan again, you bastard.”

  “John!” she shouted.

  Smythe made a gurgling sound, and John let go of him. This time the man had the good sense to walk away.

  “Jeez, the guy’s a slow learner,” John said.

  “Are you nuts? He could have you arrested for assault.”

  “He’s a bully and a creep, and he’s blaming you because he knows it’s his own damn fault his son’s in that hospital bed.”

  They turned at the sound of footsteps and anxious voices coming toward them.

  “I’ll deal with them,” Thornton said. He walked over to a small group of suits and one security guard, his hand outstretched.

  Hannah sighed heavily and turned toward the double doors leading into the emergency suite. “I can’t believe he didn’t run right into that room. If it were my son lying there…”

  “Your son wouldn’t be in that situation,” John said. “Because you’d beat the crap out of him if he even looked at drugs.”

  “Why does that man hate me so much?”

  “Because he’s a self-centered asshole who doesn’t like you reminding him how inadequate he is as a parent.”

  A few minutes later, Thornton shook hands with the hospital staff and rejoined Hannah and John. For someone who had just been called a drug dealer and a thug, and had apparently smoothed over John’s impulsive behavior, he seemed totally unruffled. As always, he was an impressive figure in his expensive suit and blond good looks. But his striking blue eyes were colder than Hannah had ever seen them.

  “Did they tell you anything about Christian’s condition?” she asked.

  “They’re still running tests.” Thornton held out a hand to John. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Thornton Bradshaw.”

  They shook. “John Emerson.”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, John. Another second and I would have knocked his teeth down his throat.” Thornton was smiling, but Hannah could tell he was simmering underneath.

  “I guess I should thank you for running interference,” John said. “I half expected to spend the night in the local jail.”

  Thornton shrugged. “I’ve donated generously to this hospital, and since you appear to be a friend of Hannah’s…” He glanced between them. “I assume you work together.”

  “John’s the author I told you about. He’ll be hanging around the school for another couple of weeks.”

  John shot her a glance. “At least.”

  A fragile butterfly of a thought fluttered across her consciousness. He’s staking his claim.

  “Oh, yes, that’s right.” Thornton turned to Hannah. “You mentioned it at dinner on Friday night.” He placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to shake him off. After all, if he hadn’t been there, John could well be talking to the police right now.

  Thornton turned to John. “I take it you know Christian fairly well?”

  “Not really. I’ve only been around for a week.”

  “Have you tried Ty’s cell phone, Thornton?” Hannah asked.

  “Yes, but he’s got it turned off.” He pulled her closer into his side. “Let’s go get some dinner while we try to figure out where he might have gone.” He said to John, as though it were an afterthought and not a polite dismissal, “You’re welcome to join us, of course.”

  “Actually, I was just about to suggest the same.” John turned to Hannah. “The coffee machine was broken, but you need something to warm those hands up. You can put my jacket back on if you want.”

  Hannah considered suggesting they pull out the tape measures and get it over with. “I’m really not hungry and I’m not cold anymore. Thanks anyway, both of you.”

  “Well, there’s no sense hanging around here,” Thornton said. “I’ll take you home and we can talk there.”

  “I can get myself home.” His proprietary attitude annoyed her. She couldn’t remember the last time he deigned to step foot in her humble abode, and she preferred
it that way.

  “I don’t want you taking any chances,” Thornton went on. “A woman was found murdered this morning in Middleburg.”

  Hannah shivered. “I’ll take a cab when I’m ready.”

  “Fine, then, we’ll talk here. Will you excuse us, John?”

  “Sure. I’ll call you at home later, Hannah.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, something she’d been doing a lot lately. “Fine.”

  When John had left, Thornton led her to a private corner by a pay phone and sat down. “Have the police talked to you yet, about Christian? Or asked any questions about Ty?”

  “No, but I keep expecting them to show up. We told the emergency techs in the ambulance what Christian had been using, and they know another boy was with him.”

  “But you didn’t mention his name?”

  “No, they didn’t ask.”

  Thornton let out a breath. “How much does Larissa know about what happened?”

  “The same as the rest of us. Ty came running into the office…or stumbling, I should say, and said Christian was passed out in the woods and there was a guy there. Oh, my goodness, I forgot about that.”

  “Where’s the guy now?”

  “I don’t know. When we found Christian, he was alone. It didn’t even occur to me to mention—”

  “Don’t,” Thornton said. “I’ll handle it. Just don’t say anything to anyone about Ty or—”

  “What?” Her whisper was shrill. “You expect me to lie to the police?”

  “I will deal with the police.” There was a fierce light in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “You won’t need to say anything. Who else was there when Ty showed up at school? Was Emerson there?” The way he said the name told her he was jealous of John’s obvious interest in her. Well, too bad. He had no claim on her.

  “No, it was after four and mostly everyone had left, so it was just me and Larissa.”

  “I see.” Just like that he clammed up. Hannah watched him as his brain whirred, calculating, planning his next move, figuring out how to keep Ty out of trouble.

  “You can’t spend the rest of your life bailing him out,” she said.

  “I don’t plan to. But he’s not going to take the fall for that bastard’s son.”

  “And if the drugs did come from Ty? What then?”

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Ty tried the door to the art building again, but it was still just as locked as it had been half an hour ago. Shit. He was freezing his ass off. But he sure as hell wasn’t going home tonight. His old man would cut off his nuts, sauté them and feed them to the fucking Dobermans if he showed up.

  Especially if Christian was dead.

  His stomach dropped every time he thought of Christian lying there with his lips all blue and his skin all damp and pasty. Then the freak had shown up and put his mouth over Christian’s… Ty retched, but nothing came out. In the distance he heard a car and ran into the woods.

  “Fucking creepy out here,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Good thing he had found this flannel shirt on the picnic table or his teeth would be chattering by now. If only he could light a fire, he could keep himself warm. He could go to the survival hut out behind the construction area, but that would be one of the first places someone would look for him. Suddenly a thought struck him and he smiled.

  The old leaf hut. Duh.

  Hardly anybody even remembered it, and he and Christian were the only kids still at the school who actually knew how to find it. He took off at a run through the woods behind the school and Hannah’s cottage, down a slope, slipping and sliding, to the bank of a small stream nobody knew the name of.

  It took him almost half an hour to get there in the dark and several more minutes to find the hut, which they had camouflaged super well. Then he spotted the old stump and the evergreen branches sticking out from under the load of dead, soggy leaves and breathed a sigh of relief. If the lighter they’d left in a baggy was still inside, he’d be all set.

  He dropped down into the hole at the side nearest the stump. It was the only entry point into the hut, which was mostly underground except for where the ground sloped down toward the stream. Another hole in the center served as a chimney. He stood beneath it now, his head clearing the roof by a few inches, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness so he could find the wood and matches. It was freezing inside, but once he got the fire going it would be toasty.

  A slight movement at the far end of the hut gripped his gut and twisted it. What the hell was it? An animal? Jesus, he hoped it wasn’t a bear or something. The quiet voice that pierced the silence was more terrifying than anything he could have imagined.

  “Hello again,” it said.

  Chapter Six

  Hannah shivered and pulled her coat closer around her. It would have made a lot more sense to have the cab drop her at her door, but she had wanted to take a look around the school, just in case Ty was holing up someplace. At least she had retrieved her coat from her office. There was talk of an overnight frost, and she always liked to bundle up for that early trek across the soccer field in the morning. Right now the distance across the field seemed unnaturally elongated, the darkness more menacing, the wind blowing through her coat icier, as though her fear for Christian’s life had somehow altered the fabric of her reality.

  “Oh God, don’t let him die,” she whispered into the night. “Please, please, don’t let him die.”

  By the time she’d left the hospital at ten thirty, all the doctors would tell her was that the coke Christian had snorted contained methamphetamine but no other detectable additives and that he appeared to have ingested a large quantity in a short amount of time. So much for his promise to her. She shook her head at her naiveté. John had been right—the boy was a master manipulator. And she hadn’t been firm enough. If she had called an ambulance, or even the police, that day she found him passed out in the art room, he might not be hanging on by a thread in that hospital tonight.

  A low branch slapped her cheek as she made her way through the trees to her cottage, but she barely felt the sting. She spotted the flowers immediately—yellow roses this time, propped up beside the doorframe. She stooped and picked them up, then inserted her key into the lock and stepped inside. And shrieked.

  “I can’t believe you don’t lock your door,” John said from the couch.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, more from fear and embarrassment than in anger. “Coming into my house when I’m not here?”

  “Waiting for you. And why the hell didn’t you have the cab drop you at your door?”

  She flipped on a lamp and saw the anger on his face. He had his nerve. “Well, I don’t appreciate you letting yourself in like you own the place. Not to mention that you scared me half to death.”

  He motioned toward the flowers hanging from her hand. “Your secret admirer left those for you. Did you see the note? I stuffed it back in the bouquet.”

  “You read it?”

  “Yeah. It says, I’m here for you, my Lovely.”

  She thwacked the flowers onto the lamp stand and unbuttoned her coat. “I don’t know which is creepier, the flowers or you.”

  “Yeah, well, it could have been some weirdo waiting in here for you instead of me. Think about that the next time you go out and leave your house wide open.”

  She came around the couch and tossed her coat onto her recliner. “I always lock my door.” Had she actually forgotten this morning? “And besides, there’s nothing in here worth stealing.”

  John stood, eyes blazing. “Christ, you’re naïve. Fine, I’m sorry I walked in, okay? I saw the flowers sitting there, and I figured if someone was waiting in here for you, I’d jump him before he could jump you.”

  She knew she should just be grateful and stop bitching at him, but some perverse instinct drove her to keep it up. “What’s with this knight-in-shining-armor crap? Roughing up Bill Smythe because he insulted me? I don’t recall asking
you to guard my honor, John. I’ve taken care of myself for a long time, and I don’t need some man I barely know to come rushing—”

  He held his palm up in front of her face. “Okay, enough with the feminist bullshit,” he said, his tone harsh and impatient. “I mistakenly thought you’d rather not be raped or killed when you got home tonight, but obviously I was wrong, so I’ll just leave.” He pushed past her, heading toward the door, then cursed and came back to snag his jacket off the couch in one angry motion.

  She’d pushed him too far. “John, wait.”

  “For what?” He was trying and failing to slip his jacket on he was so angry.

  “For me to tell you I’m sorry.” She wrapped an arm around her waist, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “God, I can be such a bitch sometimes.”

  “I hope you don’t expect me to disagree with that.”

  “I don’t. I was upset and then the walk over here was so dark… I guess I was taking my fear and frustration on you, and that’s not fair. So I’m sorry.” She looked up at him. “I was never so happy to see anyone as when you walked into that ER tonight.”

  He blew out a long breath and looked down at the floor. “Any change in Christian’s condition?”

  She shook her head and hugged herself, as she’d been doing a lot in the past several hours. “You were right about Christian. If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on protecting him, he wouldn’t be in that hospital right now.” She turned to the cold hearth. “Ironic, isn’t it? Here I am, bitching at you for protecting me. Arthur always said there’s a point at which protection becomes enabling. I obviously crossed that line with Christian.”

  “Don’t even think about blaming yourself for this.” He had come up behind her, and she could smell the leather and the peppermint. She remembered how badly she had wanted his arms around her at the hospital. God knew, she wanted them around her now. But even if she could justify crossing that line, she was too proud to ask.

  And then his arms came around her, his cheek, scratchy with whiskers, rubbed against hers, and she hesitated for about one second before allowing herself to sink back against him.