Honor Bound

“I wasn’t the only one,” she said. “You do things for people you care about.” There was another silence and her brow furrowed. “Is something wrong?” she prompted.

“Uh…I was…nothing. At any rate, I still want to know if you have any idea of who the Deep Sea author might be.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I’m curious.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you paying attention to the mayor now?”

“No.” Ben sounded irritated. “He watches too much television. It’s ludicrous to think a writer would set up a situation in a book, then commit murder so it looks like a copycat crime. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to contact the author and make sure he’s all right.”

Kelly started to pull free of Frodo’s grasp, stopping when the cat flexed his claws, refusing to let go without a tussle. She rotated her shoulders to ease the tension in them. “I’m sure he’s fine. What does Henry say? He’s got nerve endings in every corner of Sand Point.”

“I, uh, I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. Just forget it.” There was a click on the line as he hung up.

Kelly disconnected, but it was harder to turn off the sick sensation in her midsection. “That man is impossible, Frodo.”

Her cat blinked and then rolled onto his side and licked his paw, bored with the conversation because it wasn’t about him.

She settled against a stack of pillows and listened to the roar of the ocean waves, crashing on the cliff outside her window.

Usually it soothed her.

Tonight was different.

Ever since the murders she hadn’t felt as secure in her oceanfront home. She had neighbors on either side, but the house was more secluded than in the central part of town. It was one of the things she’d liked about the place, though Henry had insisted on installing his preferred brand of locks and other security on the doors and windows as a housewarming gift.

She could go and stay with them—they’d welcome her, but she hadn’t taken their help when her mother died, and she wouldn’t begin now.

BEN SLAMMED THE PHONE DOWN.

He’d never had high blood pressure, but he was certain that it had leaped twenty points. It probably did whenever he talked to Kelly. He strode into the kitchen and turned the switch on the coffeemaker. A copy of the investigative file was in his briefcase, begging for attention.

An hour later Ben had read the file twice and was livid. He hadn’t been happy with the detective’s briefings on the investigation and it was no wonder; they’d done a half-assed job. He was making notes when there was a knock on the kitchen slider.

“Oh…hey, Henry. Come on in,” he said, opening the door. Cool night air flowed in, filled with the piney ocean scent he’d always associated with Sand Point.

His aunt and uncle had volunteered to lend a hand with Toby whenever he needed it, so he’d rented the other side of their duplex when they told him it was available. Henry and Gina were great neighbors—they respected his privacy and did everything possible to help with Toby.

“Don’t tell me,” Henry said, raising his eyebrows at the papers spread across the table. “You’re taking over the investigation.”

“Not exactly.”

A knowing grin crossed Henry’s face. “Then why do you have the case file?”

“It’s a copy. I’m reviewing the progress we’ve made.”

His uncle smiled wider and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“That’s the real stuff,” Ben warned. “Double strength. Aunt Gina will blame me if you can’t sleep.”

“Caffeine doesn’t keep me awake anymore.” Henry took a long swallow, although the coffee was hot enough to scald. “And your aunt wouldn’t blame you, she loves you too much.”

Ben couldn’t argue the point. His aunt had indulged him as a boy, something he’d never fully appreciated before. It was a miracle how she’d put up with him. His behavior had been relatively okay when the visits were to places like London, Rome and Athens—wherever Henry happened to be assigned at the time—but the later trips to Sand Point were another story.

“God knows why,” he said finally. “I was an antisocial monster when I was a kid.”

Henry gave him a fond look. “You weren’t so bad. And you had issues back then. We understood. My sister and her husband…well, we don’t need to get into that.”

It was the most Henry had ever said about the past, and Ben shifted uncomfortably. Yeah, he’d had issues. His childhood hadn’t been idyllic, proving money didn’t bring happiness. He barely spoke to his parents now, though they’d recently left a few messages, asking if they could visit. He’d put them off, not interested in a family reunion with two people he’d never been close to, even when he was a kid.

“Kelly would have disagreed with you. She thought I was awful.”

“She didn’t think so the whole time.” Henry’s mouth flattened, plainly recalling the evening that Ben and Kelly were caught by a Sand Point cop, engaged in heavy-duty necking.

“It wasn’t a big deal—we were eighteen,” Ben found himself saying, a defensive reflex from the one time his uncle had been truly angry with him.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure why Henry had been so upset. Maybe it was embarrassing for the police chief to have his nephew hauled in by one of his own officers, or maybe it was because Henry and Gina thought of Kelly as a daughter. Kelly’s mother had been renting half of the duplex when Henry and Gina bought it. The arrangement had continued, with Henry and Gina living on one side and Kelly and Shanna on the other, so they’d watched her grow up from age twelve.

Hell, Henry was the reason Kelly worked at City Hall; he’d gotten her the job when her husband died.

With a neutral expression, his uncle sat at the table and put a finger on several sheets of paper, twisting them around. A low whistle came out as he read.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s a lousy piece of investigating,” Ben said. “When your detectives took positions in Portland after you left, these two were hired by the interim police chief. They’ve got law enforcement training, but limited hours on the job. Very limited.”

“You can’t attract experienced detectives to Sand Point with the starting salaries we offer…or experienced police chiefs. So teach them. What do you think I did with my guys? I had to do it more than once, as a matter of fact. I’d get them trained and sooner or later they’d go looking for bigger and better opportunities.”

Ben opened his mouth, then closed it.

Damn it all, Henry was right.

Instead of grinding his teeth in frustration, Ben should be teaching Lasko and Fairmont to be the detectives he wanted them to be. They needed on-the-job training. A college education and police academy certification were fine, but didn’t translate into true investigative skills.

He’d learned from a tough partner who’d kicked his ass in the right direction if he made a mistake.

Henry waved at the file. “Small towns aren’t the same as cities. That means your job isn’t the same as being a captain or police chief in Los Angeles.”

“So I’m discovering. How the hell did you go from Europe to Sand Point?” Ben asked. “CIA to small-town cop? It’s quite a switch.”

“We moved to Oregon when I got tired of knowing that as soon as one bit of scum got put away, there were ten more ready to take his place. It isn’t that way in Sand Point. My work here made a difference. I liked that difference. I’m an egotist.”

“More like someone who plays daddy to the world.” Ben pressed his fingers to his eyes so hard he saw stars. He’d always wanted to be a cop. It was the one constant from his childhood, and yet there were times that working in law enforcement was more discouraging than sweeping sand in a windstorm, particularly when lawyers got perps released as fast as they were arrested.

Henry put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll get it sorted out. I wouldn’t have recommended you if I hadn’t known you were the best man for the job.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep, son. Tomorrow comes soon enough.” The back door opened and closed and quiet filled the house.