Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Can - By Kat Martin Page 0,5
with a black canvas duffel slung over a heavily muscled shoulder. Ben put out a new batch of dry food for the cat, who had his own high-tech security cat door into the backyard, checked the auto-watering bowl, then went outside and drove his Denali into the garage. Then they headed out to her rental car for the trip to the airport.
“You drive. On the way, I’ll go through the files.”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t like his high-handedness, but she liked his take-action attitude. So far the police had come up with nothing. They believed the Robersons, believed Sam had run away.
Claire didn’t believe it for a minute.
As she drove toward the airport, Ben sat in the passenger seat poring over the files she had brought in the hope that if he decided to help her the information might be useful.
“Laura Maryann Thompson,” he read. “Born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, December fourteenth, nineteen eighty. It lists the schools she attended. Pittsburgh Community College is where we met.”
“She was your same age, right? You were both sophomores? You were putting yourself through school, planning to join the navy when you graduated.”
“That’s right.”
As the car rolled along, Claire flicked him a sideways glance, saw him studying her face.
“So she talked about me,” he said. “What else did she tell you?”
“She said your father was a steelworker. That you worked with him at the mill part-time to put yourself through school. She said your mother left when you were nine years old.”
“That’s right. The same age as Sam. She tell you my dad worked like a dog just to put food on the table? He was a good man but he was a lousy father. Mostly I had to fend for myself. It wasn’t the kind of life I’d want for a kid of mine.”
Claire made no reply. Laura had told her Ben had been pretty much on his own since grade school, since the day his mother walked out of the house. She’d said she admired what he had made of himself.
“What happened to Laura’s parents?” Ben asked as she merged onto the 59 Freeway heading north. “They were nice people. Samuel was her father’s name.”
“They died in a car wreck six months after Sam was born. I think that was part of the reason she started drinking. She wasn’t good at handling responsibility.”
Ben’s jaw looked tight. “I would have helped with the boy. All she had to do was ask.”
Claire didn’t tell him that Laura hadn’t asked him for help because she didn’t want to burden him. The reckless, devil-may-care boy she had loved in college wanted excitement and adventure. He hadn’t been ready for marriage or fatherhood. Even years later when he had come to L.A., he wasn’t ready to settle down.
Or at least that was what Laura believed.
Ben looked down at the file. “Says she married a guy named Tom Schofield in 2001. Divorced a year later. No kids. Why not?”
“Laura said she didn’t love him. She said she tried to, but it just wouldn’t work.”
He looked up as they took the turnoff to the airport. “That night in L.A....she told me she was on the pill.”
Claire could feel those icy eyes on her. He was waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t want to betray Laura’s trust.
“Tell me the truth,” he pressed. “Did she get pregnant on purpose?”
A shaft of weariness slid through her. “Laura wasn’t on the pill, if that’s what you’re asking. She wanted your baby. There was no way to be sure she’d get pregnant that night, but she was happy when she found out.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“As it turned out, she wasn’t well suited to be a mother. She loved Sam, but the responsibilities of raising a child were just too much for her to handle.”
Ben fell silent, but she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. Laura had borne him a son. She had needed his help, but she had refused to ask.
Neither had Claire. And some of his anger was definitely aimed at her.
* * *
They missed the 11:10 flight out of Bush International, but got tickets for the 2:20. Ben had wanted to stop by the Atlas Security office, where he worked as a freelance P.I., and put the company computer whiz, Sol Greenway, to work digging up something—anything—on Troy Bridger. But it was Sunday, and after Alex and Sabrina’s wedding and late-night reception, everyone was sleeping in. No one would be at work till Monday morning.