Iris Johansen - Bonnie

“And why does Daltrop think that we could get any information out of him? It doesn’t seem likely.”

“You never know. Danner spent a lot of time with him while he was working here. The kid trailed around the camp behind him like a puppy dog.”

Joe stiffened. “He did? Then that might mean he trailed him outside the camp.”

“And it might not. Max thought that it could be possible. But he asked me to do the questioning.”

Joe’s lips twisted. “Because he didn’t want me to be rough on one of his protégés? I’m not that much of a hard-ass. I don’t target problem kids.”

“No, but you could be impatient. According to Max, Ben is kind of special. He doesn’t want him hurt. Ben’s had a rough enough life. His father is a thief and a drug runner who is in jail right now for hitting his landlady and knocking her down a flight of stairs. Ben tried to stop him and ended up at the bottom of the stairs, too. The father has a record a mile long and evidently only kept Ben with him to get welfare payments. The state took Ben away from him twice, citing abuse, but let him go back. Our wonderful DEFACS wanting to give a parent every break. Even when it breaks the kid.” He turned and headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you after you finish with Kimble and Selznik. I believe they’re in the mess tent.” The next moment, he’d left the office and was striding toward the tents.

Joe didn’t move from the window, watching him as he reached a large tent on the perimeter and squatted beside a slim, sandy-haired young man sitting on a camp stool. The boy’s fingers were flying over a leather belt, and he looked up with a smile as Father Barnabas began to speak to him.

Special, the priest had called him. Perhaps in more ways than one. That smile was joyously luminous and touched his face with a radiant gentleness. There was something vaguely familiar about that smile…

Then it came to him. It was reminiscent of the sketch of Bonnie that Eve had drawn and hung in the hallway of the house on Brookside. Strange that this boy would remind him of Bonnie.

Perhaps not so strange. This boy, too, had been captured in forever childhood.

He tore his gaze away and headed for the door. He was wasting time standing here staring at the kid, but there was something about him that had riveted him. Forget it. Ben Hudson seemed to be talking to the priest, and Joe should be heading toward the mess tent. He’d probably make much more progress questioning the two supervisors about Ted Danner.

And perhaps a few questions about Ben Hudson…

HE CALLED FATHER BARNABASover an hour later. “I’m coming up with nothing. Neither of the supervisors had much to do with Danner. They both said that he was a loner and didn’t encourage company. They remembered he would go away almost every weekend, but they assumed he just liked camping. What about you? Did Hudson know anything?”

He hesitated. “Maybe. I’m not sure. The kid is willing to talk about Ted Danner. He said that Ted is his best friend. It’s clear he cares for him.”

“Then if he’ll talk, what’s the problem?”

“He talks about how Danner taught him to make leather vests as well as the belts. He tells me how Danner played cards with him every night. Not what we want.”

“What about Danner’s weekend trips?”

“He says he doesn’t remember. He freezes up.”

“Then he knows something.”

“Maybe he doesn’t remember.”

“And maybe he does. I’ll be over there in five minutes to question him.”

“I’m staying while you do it,” the priest said quietly.

“I’m not arguing.” His tone became mocking. “Maybe we can play good cop, bad cop.”

“No bad cop. Not with this kid.”

“That would be your answer regardless. I’ll see you.” He hung up. He could feel a tingle of excitement as he headed for the door of the mess. It might be a mistake to feel any stirring of hope. This was a special kid, and he might only be confused.

But his every instinct was humming.

BEN HUDSON WAS INDEEDa special kid, and he was not confused.

Joe knew from the moment that the boy looked at him after the priest’s introduction that there was not confusion but a simple, almost pure, clarity about Ben Hudson. The impression was largely due to Ben’s wide-set blue eyes and that smile, which seemed to hold a kind of joyous wonder.

“I’m very glad to meet you, Ben,” Joe said quietly. “I won’t take very much of your time, but I have to have some questions answered. You know I’m a detective?”

Ben nodded tentatively. “Father Barnabas told me. That means you’re with the police. Are you going to put me in jail?”

“Why would I do that? Have you done something wrong?”

“I don’t think so. But my father used to say that he never did anything wrong but that the police were always after him.”

“Why did they arrest him? What were the charges?”

He shook his head vaguely. “Lots of things. Selling drugs, stealing stuff, hitting the woman who rented us the apartment. But he told the police he didn’t do any of it. That it was all lies.”

“And you think he was telling the truth?”

He looked away. “I wanted to believe it. Our landlady was a nice woman. She hurt herself bad when she fell down the stairs. I went to the hospital to see her.”

“Was she angry?”

“No. She cried. She told me to run away.”

“And did you do it?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave my father. He needed me. He said it was a son’s duty to take care of his father. He wasn’t well and couldn’t work. But I was strong.”

And the leech had fastened onto the kid and hadn’t let go.

“Then how did you end up here?”

“They took him away and put him in jail. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so my landlady found this place. Mr. Daltrop said I could stay for a little while.” He smiled. “That was eight months ago.”

“Evidently, you earned a place for yourself if you managed to stay this long.”

“They think I’m smart, that I do a good job. They like me here. Everyone likes me.”

An entry.

“Did Ted Danner like you?”

His smile faded. “Yes.”

Back off a little. “Why do you think that?”

“He would come to my tent and talk to me. He taught me how to play checkers. He had a big knife, and he’d take me into the woods and show me how good he could throw it. Sometimes, he’d let me go with him when he camped out.”

Yes.

“Where was that? Where did he go?”

Ben moistened his lips but didn’t reply.

It would have been too great a piece of luck if Ben had answered that question, Joe thought. “What did he talk about?”

He frowned. “Just stuff.”

“Not people?”

“He talked about John. He liked him a lot. I think he was a relation.” He stopped, troubled. “I don’t want to talk about Ted. Do I have to do it? Will you arrest me if I don’t?”

Say the words, and he’d get what he wanted. The boy would probably believe him.

“No, I won’t arrest you. But why don’t you want to talk about him? He seems to have been very nice to you.”

He didn’t answer.

“Why, Ben?”

“He told me not to talk about him,” he said in a low voice. “Before he left, he told me that I mustn’t tell anyone anything about- He told me not to say anything. So I can’t do it even if you put me in jail.”

Don’t tense. Don’t show any sign of the excitement that was beginning to grip him, or the boy would sense it. “I’ve told you that I won’t put you in jail. I just wonder why he wouldn’t want you to talk about him when you said he was such a good man. Did he do something wrong?”