Tina Leonard - A Father's Vow

“You don’t need to do that, Ben. Investigating this case is what you’re paying Finders Keepers to do.”

“Trust me. I need to do this.”

Under the circumstances, she could understand how he felt—and she had to admit that she looked forward to his and Lucy’s company as well. “Will a long drive be too hard on Lucy?”

“I don’t think so. She can sleep in the car, and anyway, she enjoys small outings away from the house. She gets cabin fever.”

Carolyn smiled as Ben rose and went into the lounge, where Lucy was engrossed in a conversation with stuffed animals and a plastic tea set Carolyn had unearthed from the main house. She heard Lucy mildly protest at having to leave the new toys behind, before acquiescing to her father’s coaxing. Carolyn’s lungs seemed to squeeze tight inside her. Ben was the parent she’d known he would be. She’d made the right decision all those years ago, and if she’d paid for that choice with unimaginable emotional pain, then it had been the right thing to do. Ben and Lucy adored each other—Carolyn couldn’t imagine one without the other.

She started to call to Ben that Lucy was welcome to take the stuffed animals in the car with her, but then he appeared with Lucy riding on his back. “Someone had taken off their shoes and socks,” he said with a grin.

Carolyn smiled at Lucy. “That sounds like a good thing to do.”

“Mm-hm,” Lucy agreed. She squeezed her thin little arms around her daddy’s shoulders in a sweet hug.

It was like looking at a face full of sunshine. Those corners of Carolyn’s heart that had never known that sunshine absorbed the light wistfully. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s go see what we can find out.”

They drove approximately eighty miles north to the Austin address listed as Dr. Benton’s in the phone book. Parking the car, Carolyn didn’t allow herself to become apprehensive about the questions they would pose to Douglas Benton. Because of Lucy’s situation, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything but hope. She tapped on the front door of the house and gave Ben a smile that felt weak, though she meant it to be comforting.

The wooden inside door opened, and a woman peered through the screen door at them.

“Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Douglas Benton,” Carolyn said.

“Why?” the woman asked, her tone suspicious.

Somewhat taken aback, Carolyn looked over the middle-aged woman more carefully. Her hair was unkempt, her figure rounded with lack of exercise. She wore orange polyester pants and a short-sleeved brown shirt. Somehow she didn’t look like the wife of a prominent local doctor. “I’m Carolyn St. Clair,” she said, forgoing introducing Ben for the moment, in case his name alerted the woman to the reason for their presence. “Would you be Mrs. Benton?”

The woman raised her eyebrows and studied the threesome, her gaze hovering on Lucy for a second before returning to Carolyn. “Luckily for me, no.”

Uncertain how to take that, Carolyn pressed forward. “This is the Benton home?”

“It is. But only Mrs. Benton lives here. Dr. Benton died the first week of August, so you’ve just missed him, you might say,” the woman said with a snort.

CHAPTER FOUR

BEN’S HEART contracted at the unwelcome news. He clutched Lucy’s hand tighter in his to calm himself. The unhelpful woman was clearly annoyed with their presence. He decided to allow Carolyn to continue on her course—after all, she was doing her job. He stood still on the porch, torn between giving in to despair and chewing the woman out for her dismissive attitude.

Of course, she had no way of knowing that their mission was one of life-and-death. He had too much invested in the situation, and his desperation was setting his emotions at flashpoint.

Carolyn’s calm voice pushed back the rush of disappointment swelling his heart. “I am sorry to hear of his passing. We were unaware that he was ill.”

The woman shrugged. “What is it you wanted with him, anyway?”

“Actually, it’s a private matter. Could you possibly direct us to Mrs. Benton?”

“I can, but it’ll do you as little good as Dr. Benton.”

To Ben’s surprise, the contrary woman opened the screen door. They stepped into the dark hallway, the musty smell of the house oppressive. A very unpleasant place to live, he thought suddenly. And this was the residence of the man who had helped his mother deliver him. He frowned. If this doctor had been guilty of baby smuggling, wouldn’t he have chosen somewhere better to live?

“Thank you for allowing us to see Mrs. Benton,” Carolyn said. “I realize this is something of an imposition, and I hope she won’t mind us coming without an appointment.”

The woman looked at them for a moment, her expression amused but not in a kind way. “Down the hall,” was all she said.

Ben followed Carolyn, deciding to scoop Lucy into his arms. Something about this house rattled him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He moved into a large room, almost empty, it seemed, of personal effects. Only an overstuffed sofa and a television filled the space—and an old woman in a chair who sat watching “Hollywood Squares,” her back to them.

Carolyn went over to her. “Mrs. Benton?”

The elderly woman ignored her.

“Mrs. Benton?” she repeated. When there was no response, Carolyn glanced at Ben, concerned. “I don’t think she can hear me.”

“Sometimes she can, sometimes she can’t—depends on whether her mind’s fixed or not,” the woman informed them. “She’s got a rare form of brain cancer. Lately she’s more out than in, if you know what I mean. The doctor’s wife ain’t in, ain’t in her right mind.”

“Are you her caregiver?” Ben asked, his disgust growing with every word she uttered.

“As much as I can be. Heaven only knows I’m more of a guard most of the time.”

“A guard?” Carolyn asked.

“She’ll get it into her head that she’s going to drive her car, and if I so much as turn away for a second, she’s out there behind the wheel, angry at the car because she can’t get it to go. I hid the keys, but still she tries.”

Carolyn looked at Mrs. Benton for a few more seconds, her gaze searching the woman’s profile. After a moment, she said, “We’re looking for some records. Is there anyone in charge of the doctor’s records?”

“Just her,” the woman said. “She was his nurse, and his office manager, I suppose. They pretty much worked as a team. You’re not from around here, are ya, or you’d know that.”

“I’m not,” Carolyn said. “This is Ben Mulholland, and his daughter, Lucy. We think that Dr. Benton assisted Ben’s mother in her delivery. We’re looking for Eileen Mulholland’s records.”

“I can’t give you none of that,” the caregiver said, “even if I knew where they were.”

Mrs. Benton turned her head. “Eileen?” she asked in a quavering voice. “Eileen?”

“Eileen Mulholland,” Carolyn repeated softly. Ben’s heart seemed to pause.

Mrs. Benton frowned, obviously trying to sort through something in her mind. “Eileen.”

“Mulholland,” Carolyn said again.

The woman scratched at her hand. “Is she here?”

“No.” Carolyn’s voice was soft. “She died.”

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Benton said. “She didn’t die. She’s a healthy farm girl. I took her vital signs.”

Carolyn’s gaze met Ben’s in triumph, but all he felt was a keyed-up sense of fear. He wanted answers, but how were they going to get them out of this addled woman?

Mrs. Benton turned toward the television again, apparently finished.

“Won’t get much out of her,” the caregiver informed them. “You’re lucky you got that much. Say, if this Eileen Mulholland is dead, what are you wanting to see her records for?”