Metsy Hingle - Behind The Mask

Janie reached across the table, patted his hand. “See what I mean about that honorable streak of yours?”

“It’s a job, Janie,” he said.

“It’s more than a job. You’re doing it for the little boy.”

“And the money.”

“All right, for the money, too. But something tells me you could have said no to the money, but not to helping that little boy.”

It was true, which made him feel like a sap. He didn’t even know the kid, but the photo he’d gotten from Webster had shown a brown-haired little boy with serious dark eyes. “Maybe,” he finally conceded. “But the money was a big factor, too. Speaking of which, I want you to have this for the boys.” He slid a bank book across the table to Janie. He’d opened an account in her sons’ names into which he’d deposited the bulk of the retainer.

Janie’s eyes widened as she stared at the bank book. Then she shoved the book back at him. “I can’t accept this. I can’t believe you actually thought that I would. It’s bad enough that I allowed you to pay for their karate lessons. But this…this is going too far.”

“Come on, Janie. You’ve been worried for months about being laid off from your job. That money will take some of the pressure off and even allow you to plan for the boys’ futures.”

“They’re my sons, Michael, and my responsibility. Not yours.”

“I’m their godfather. What’s wrong with me wanting to help?”

“What’s wrong is that you’re working at a job you hate. You’ve cut off ties with a father you adored, out of some misplaced sense of guilt. You have no close friendships outside of me and the boys, and I can’t even remember the last time you had a woman in your life.”

“There are tons of women in my life,” he said defensively.

“I’m talking about a serious relationship—not one that consists of a casual dinner followed by casual sex.”

Because she was hitting some sore spots, he fired back without thinking, “And what about you, Janie? You’re pretty, smart and one of the best women I know, but I don’t see you letting any guy get close to you.”

“I’ll admit I have been gun-shy for a long time because of what Pete did. But there is someone I’m sort of seeing.”

“There is?” he countered, stunned by the news. Immediately protective, he asked, “Who is he?”

“No one you know. Besides, it’s nothing serious. Not yet anyway. But at least I’m willing to take a chance again. You need to, as well.” She let out a breath. “Look, I really appreciate this,” she said, indicating the bank book. “But I can’t accept it.”

“Listen, I know it seems like a lot of money, but it’s just the retainer I got for this case. When I find the woman and her son, I’m going to collect the rest of my fee.” He saw no point in telling her that if he didn’t find Mrs. Webster and her son, he would have to return the money.

“But it’s your money. You should use it to do something for you.”

He grinned at her. “When I collect the balance, I plan to. I’m going to buy that sailboat I’ve had my eye on, take some time off and spend it sailing.” He caught her hand, placed the bank book in it. “But right now, I want you to have this. For the boys.”

“But suppose you can’t find this woman?” Janie asked.

“Oh, I’ll find her all right.” Elisabeth Webster didn’t have a prayer at remaining hidden from him. “You can count on it.”

“Yeah, that’s her. That’s Beth,” the woman named Susie, working behind the drugstore counter, told Michael as she studied the photograph of Elisabeth Webster he’d shown her. “Only she wasn’t wearing any diamonds like those when she worked here.”

Excited to have finally come across someone who had actually been able to identify the Webster woman, he asked, “Can you remember how long ago that was?”

“Gee, probably two—no, two and a half months ago. I remember because she quit right after Thanksgiving weekend without giving Mr. Perkins any notice. He was pretty steamed, it being the holidays and all.”

At least he was getting closer, Michael told himself. After spending the past ten days retracing Elisabeth Webster’s path through Florida and Mississippi, he’d ended up in the small, quiet town of El Dorado, Arkansas, population twenty-five thousand. Not exactly a hot spot like Miami and West Palm Beach where she’d lived and partied with her husband for the past seven years. It certainly was an odd choice for a woman who was used to the nightclub scene. “Your boss mentioned she left because of a family emergency.” Which, in itself, was interesting, Michael decided, since he’d been able to find no family whatsoever for Elisabeth Webster other than her husband and son.

“Susie, how about a piece of that pie?” a burly-looking guy called out from the end of the counter.

“Be right there,” the girl replied, and hustled down to the other end of the old-fashioned counter to serve the fellow a thick slab of pie.

While he waited for Susie to return, Michael tried to reconcile the Elisabeth Webster described in the file to the woman who had worked at a day-care center in Mississippi before moving to the sleepy little Arkansas town where she’d worked behind the counter in a drugstore. It simply didn’t make sense.

“You want me to freshen up that coffee for you?” Susie asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“Sure.” He shoved his cup toward the waitress and allowed the woman to pour him the coffee that he neither wanted nor needed. “Did Beth happen to mention what the family emergency was?”

“She claimed her grandmother was sick.”

Michael added sugar and milk to the coffee. “You didn’t believe her?” he prompted.

The gum-smacking redhead looked around then lowered her voice conspiratorially and said, “Let’s just say, I don’t think it was a sick grandmother that made her pack up and leave here quick like she did.”

“Then why do you think she left?” Michael asked.

“I think she was hiding from someone, and she took off when she thought they were getting too close.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because she was scared.”

“She told you she was scared?” Michael asked.

“Didn’t have to. I could tell.” When he arched his eyebrow in question, Susie continued, “First off, Beth was real quiet. Most women with looks like hers do everything they can to play up their good looks and draw attention to themselves. But not Beth. She didn’t seem to like people noticing her. Of course, they did notice her and that only seemed to make her more uncomfortable.”

“Maybe she was shy,” Michael offered, wanting to get back to the point of the discussion—which was why this young woman had believed Elisabeth Webster was afraid.

“I know shy when I see it. My cousin Penny is shy. The girl gets tongue-tied and blushes six shades of red when a man gets within ten feet of her. Beth wasn’t shy. She was scared. You could see it in her eyes.”

“See what?”

“Fear. I saw that same look in the eyes of a stray kitten I once rescued when a neighbor’s dog cornered it under a porch. After I ran the dog off, I tried to coax the kitten out, but the little thing spit and hissed and clawed at me for all it was worth. The poor thing was starving, but for the longest time it wouldn’t come out to eat the food I brought. When it finally came out to eat, it watched me the whole time like it expected me to turn on it at any minute. Beth had that same look. Like she wanted to trust you, but she was afraid to let her guard down even for a second.”

Michael frowned, disliking this image of a frightened Elisabeth Webster. He didn’t want to feel sorry for the woman. The last thing he needed was to see her as some damsel in distress instead of a meal ticket. Hardening his resolve, he recalled the data he’d collected on her. She was a young woman who had married a man more than twice her age. And when she’d grown unhappy in her marriage, she’d probably asked for a divorce. Only Webster, being the macho prick he was, had most likely tightened the leash on his wife. So she’d drugged him, stole his money and took off with the kid. If anyone was frightened in the whole mess, it was probably the little boy. “What about her son? Did you ever meet him?”