Dangerous Secrets

“Ridge, it’s hard for a kid to change schools in the middle of a year. Why not let Ben finish out the year here? I think I may have a solution.”

“What are you thinking?” Ridge asked.

“Why not let Rae-Jean go to Shirley?” Milo asked. “And Ben comes here.”

“At a sad time like this?” Ridge sounded uncertain.

“Having someone to take care of would help Shirley. I know my sister.”

Ridge shrugged. “Okay. Ask.”

Milo lifted the receiver of the kitchen wall phone and dialed a number. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, Tom.”

Sylvie listened to the brief conversation, carried on in a low voice Ben couldn’t overhear. And every word her father spoke made her love him more than she already did.

He hung up the phone. “Tom and Shirley will keep Rae-Jean with them. Ridge, we have room for Ben now. May he stay with us?”

Sylvie held her breath. Ridge, please.

“You’re very good. Both of you.” Ridge rose with obvious fatigue and lack of enthusiasm. “I just thought Ben needed a long-term solution. But I’ll think over your offer and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay? I’ll be taking Ben home now.”

A gloomy Ridge and a dejected Ben left almost immediately. Sylvie and her father stood, looking at the closed door for a long moment. Then Milo put his comforting arm around her shoulder. “Ridge is making a big mistake if he takes Ben away now.”

Another in a long line of mistakes, Sylvie added silently. Was there any way to make Ridge see sense about Ben?

“Let’s go to bed,” her dad said. “I’m about to fall asleep on my feet. And we’ll still be settling Rae-Jean and her baby in here tomorrow. It will be an adjustment for both of us having an infant in the house.”

She nodded and he walked her to her bedroom door where he pecked her cheek good-night. Lord, wake Ridge up and let him see Ben as a gift, not a burden.

March 8

Late Tuesday afternoon, Sylvie paced the floor of the new clinic in Washburn. Her aunt Shirley was in the examination room with the nurse-practitioner who was examining Rae-Jean’s baby girl, little Hope. What could go wrong next? Rae-Jean, looking exhausted and weak, had arrived home and Sylvie had put her to bed immediately.

And then she and Aunt Shirley had rushed the obviously very congested baby here. Just over five pounds in weight, tiny Hope had been born three weeks premature and was so fragile. And they still didn’t know how the child would be affected from Rae-Jean’s drug abuse the year before.

Then Aunt Shirley came out with the baby in her arms and smiled. “We just need to get a couple of prescriptions filled. And to pick up some camphorated oil.”

Sylvie sighed with relief. Rae-Jean had a bad cold, too, and needed their attention.

A half hour later, Shirley parked in front of Milo’s Bait and Tackle Shop. Two police cars were parked there. “Oh, no,” Shirley moaned.

Sylvie knew just how her aunt felt. She was beginning to cringe at the sight of police vehicles. With a sinking feeling, she unhooked the baby from the car seat in the rear passenger compartment. And then both women hurried up the few steps to the shop. Milo, wearing a khaki quilted vest, met them at the shop’s entrance.

“Dad, what’s happened?” Sylvie asked, while Shirley cradled the blanket-shrouded baby close to protect her from the biting wind.

“I went to pick up a few groceries. While I was gone, someone got into our apartment and struck Rae-Jean from behind and knocked her out.” Disbelief and anger colored each of his words. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

Sylvie shook her head as though trying to deny what had happened.

“Where is Rae-Jean, Milo?” Shirley asked, patting the fussing baby in her arms.

“That deputy, Trish, has driven her to the E.R. in Ashford. I don’t think she’s hurt except for a lump and a bad headache.”

The sound of footsteps sounded from above and then Ridge was there in front of them. “The sheriff would like you to come upstairs, please.”

Ridge’s unexpected presence jolted Sylvie’s already jangled nerves. “You didn’t get to take Ben to that school, did you?” His stark expression caused her to step back from him.

“I hadn’t come to a decision yet,” Ridge replied, shivering once from the cold. “Ben’s in school today. Please, you need to come upstairs and look over your apartment.” Without a further word, he turned and motioned them to precede him upstairs.

As she passed within inches of him, Sylvie could think of nothing either comforting or persuasive to say.

The sheriff was waiting for them in the kitchen. “Whoever broke in and struck Rae-Jean didn’t have as much time to tear your place up as Ginger’s apartment and your house.” He nodded toward Shirley.

“You think there is just one person doing this?” Sylvie asked the sheriff. The unreality of someone breaking into their home and for an unknown reason was obviously shaking Sylvie’s peace apart. “Is it just one person who is looking for something? But what?”

Keir shrugged, his features set in grim lines. Ridge stood at his side, reflecting the same mood in his expression and stance.

Sylvie wrapped her arms closer around the baby.

“Something will break,” the sheriff said with what sounded like forced confidence. “This doesn’t appear to be the work of a professional and he is bound to slip up, leave something behind. And we’ll get him.”

Shirley sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and unwrapped the thin blanket over the baby’s head. She held the baby girl close and kissed her downy forehead. “What could they be looking for? And why? Oh, Lord, help us.”

Sylvie’s spirit echoed the despairing cry of Shirley’s heart.

Keir asked Sylvie and Milo to make a cursory examination of places where they kept their extra cash and few valuables. Nothing was found missing and this didn’t lighten the pervasive gloom. The sheriff asked them to wait downstairs in Milo’s shop. But before she could comply, the kitchen phone rang. Sylvie picked it up and heard a voice over the line. “A lady is here who wants to dicker over the price of a book, one of the collectible editions of Georgette Heyer.”

In her current mental fog, it took a few moments for Sylvie to understand who, where and what was happening. It was Shirley’s neighbor Florence Levesque, who was watching Sylvie’s shop for her today. “Florence, I’ll come right over.” She turned to Milo and Shirley and said, “I’ll be right back.”

When she walked outside, Ridge hailed her from the bottom of the steps, “Where are you going?”

“To my shop. Florence is there with a customer.”

Ridge caught up with her. “I’ll come with you.” Without preamble, he continued as they walked side by side, “Do you have any idea at all of who might have done this?”

“None.” Why was he coming with her? In spite of her limp, she found herself walking faster than usual in the brisk winter wind.

“Since I can’t take Ben myself, I’ve decided I’m going to call a friend of mine in the Milwaukee Police Department and ask him to meet the bus from northern Wisconsin tomorrow. He can take Ben to the school. I don’t know when I will be able to get away from this case. And I’ve got to get Ben to that school.”

She cast him a scorching glance. “You’re out of your mind,” she declared, patience gone.

Ridge looked shocked. “What?”

“If you think that you can put Ben on a bus in Ashford tomorrow morning and that when it reaches Milwaukee that night, he will still be on it, you are out of your mind,” she repeated.

Ridge made a sound of disgust. “You’re right. I must be crazy to even think of doing that.”

Most shops on the side street where they walked had been closed until spring. She had the haunting sensation that she was trudging through a ghost town with Ridge. The icy wind battered them, swirling particles of dry snow around their ankles. Her hip ached from the cold and her indignation at his blind spot was fueling her weariness.