Honor Bound

“You’re a snob.” Kelly slammed the passenger door of the Jeep. “And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss my mom with you.”

No wonder, Ben thought. Shanna hadn’t exactly been mother of the year material. He’d rarely seen her with Kelly, though that wasn’t surprising since she had frequent male visitors and worked at a bar until all hours.

Ben walked around the Jeep and found sandy shoe-prints on the driveway. He measured the prints and took several pictures with his digital camera before heading to the rear of the house. The deck design didn’t include stairs, and there wasn’t any easy ground-level access since the rear of the property dropped sharply.

“Where did you think you saw something?” he called.

“There.” She motioned to an area back from the deck and in the cover of the bushes.

He crouched near the spot. The grass was crushed and some twigs were broken, and a single, broad leaf lay on the ground near a greasy-looking, circle of dirt.

Ben noted the distance between the houses. There wasn’t so much oceanfront property in Southern California—not with houses that belonged to regular people instead of obscenely rich movie stars or business moguls like his father.

As for the view, while attractive, it didn’t compare to the one from twenty feet closer to the edge of the cliff. What it did offer was a partial view of Kelly’s deck, along with an unobstructed sight line of the windows and doors on the north and front sides of the house. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it was interesting.

“Have you had any workmen here recently?” he asked. “Someone who might have tramped around in this area?”

“No, nothing lately.”

“How about the neighbors—do they ever take a shortcut through the bushes to visit?”

“There’s a wider space closer to our back doors. That’s what we use.”

“Uh-huh.”

Ben took plastic evidence bags and latex gloves from his pocket—tools of the trade that he still carried from force of habit. He didn’t know if the techs could lift a fingerprint from a leaf, but he was willing to give it a try.

“You can’t be serious,” Kelly exclaimed.

The glove snapped against Ben’s wrist. “I’m always serious about police work.”

“This isn’t police work. It’s absurd.”

“Hey, you’re the one who was bothered enough to call Henry.”

KELLY SCOWLED.

She couldn’t believe Ben was collecting a stupid leaf as if it was evidence and taking pictures of sand on her driveway.

“Yes, and when Henry wasn’t home, I’m the one who decided the whole thing was silly and didn’t pursue it further. And I was right—it’s nothing.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because nobody broke into the house or stole my car,” she said matter-of-factly. “See? Nothing.”

“Maybe, but Sand Point has one or more killers on the loose.”

“Sand Point had one or more killers, who’ve probably already left on a cargo ship. We have an unending supply of transient seamen with our deepwater port. At any rate, I’m not the one who’s overreacting now.”

Ben ignored her, dropping the leaf in his plastic envelope and scooping some soil into another. He smelled the contents. “Did you dump some flavored coffee here? At the end of day, when you got out of the car?”

She threw up her hands. “Would it matter if I said yes?”

“I wouldn’t send it to the lab, for one thing. Those tests cost money.”

“The answer is no, but you don’t need to send anything to the lab.” The mayor was already fuming about the cost of the murder investigation; the last thing she needed was the city paying for unnecessary tests.

“It doesn’t hurt to check things out. I’d like to know why someone was hanging around here.”

“If anyone was hanging around, it was most likely totally innocent.”

Ben rocked back on his heels, cool and professional, his expression as unreadable as if he’d been wearing mirrored sunglasses. “Last night Aunt Gina suggested I come over when Henry wasn’t available. Why didn’t you agree?”

“I changed my mind. There wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you call me in the first place?”

Kelly blew out a frustrated breath. “I just didn’t, that’s why.”

“That isn’t an explanation.”

“Okay, it didn’t occur to me.”

“I’m the police chief. You see me at City Hall and receive my status reports every morning and evening. I’m Henry’s nephew, and the two of us used to date. Why didn’t it ‘occur’ to you that I might be someone to contact when you’re having a problem? I should have been at the top of the list.”

“Because the one time I did call you for something, you were too busy,” she said coolly.

He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“It isn’t important any longer.” Kelly shrugged. “I’m not sure it ever was.”

She climbed back into the Jeep, more annoyed than she was justified. It was because of those cracks he’d made about fake pelicans in the yard and the other stuff her mother had loved. How dare he? Nobody, including Shanna, would have claimed she was perfect. But she’d done her best, and that was a far cry from what Ben had ever done.

Kelly learned from her mistakes.

She had loved Ben, and then he hadn’t come when her mother died. He hadn’t even cared. It was the sort of lesson that stuck. She’d just returned from the mortuary and the florist, making decisions about a casket and burial plot, and flowers and feeling desperately alone. The house was deathly quiet. She’d broken down and called Ben, but he’d blown her off as fast as possible.

She didn’t know what kind of man Ben was now, but it didn’t matter. He had no right to criticize Shanna or make snide comments about someone who couldn’t defend herself.

Ben opened the door and flipped his thumb in command. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk at City Hall.”

“No, here.” He stood with his legs apart, a looming figure of authority until Kelly slid from the Jeep again.

“What is so vital it can’t wait?” Honestly, if he had the nerve to say anything more about her mother, she’d scream. Let him explain that to the neighbors when they came running.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re the author of the Deep mystery-novels?”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

“Give me some credit. I remember from when we dated that you wanted to be a writer. Then there’s the way you acted when I questioned you about the books. Not to mention the steno pad I borrowed from your desk yesterday…with an outline of the next two books in the series.”

Now he knew and it was a relief. At least she wouldn’t have to screw up her courage, looking for the right moment to tell him.

“Fine, I’m the author. What difference does it make?”

“To start, why keep it a secret?”

“I like my privacy. Is that so bad?”

“That depends on what you’re hiding.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I’M NOT HIDING ANYTHING,” Kelly said hotly.

“Except your identity.”

“There’s a difference between wanting my privacy and having something to hide. You don’t know what it was like when I was growing up…how…” She stopped, her cheeks pale.

“How what?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You always assumed I was like my mother, the way everyone else did.”

There was enough truth in the accusation that Ben knew it was wiser to keep his mouth shut.

Kelly crossed her arms over her stomach and mulishly set her chin. “Anyway, I didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to tell you sooner or later that I was Griffin Bell. But there shouldn’t have been any rush since you claimed you were concerned the author was all right, not that you wanted to ask about the murder.”

Fair enough, yet Ben was still annoyed. Kelly had been thwarting him since the day he’d started work at the police department.

“Writers like publicity to increase their book sales. Why didn’t you capitalize on the media attention?”

“I would never take advantage of something so tragic for my benefit,” Kelly snapped. “It’s bad enough that people are saying the murders are alike. How could I announce out of the blue that I’d written them? The books are fiction. What happened to Simon and Harvey is real life.”

Fiction?

Maybe.

But the homeless character had appeared in the second book of the series; that novel could have been written after Kelly met Simon.

“How much are your stories inspired by real people?” Ben asked. “Harvey Bryant, for example…or Simon? Were they recreated in your story?”

She made a visible effort to calm down. “Definitely not Harvey. He was lousy to his employees, but I can’t see him being dishonest like the character in Deep Sea. As for Simon, getting to know him did give me ideas. He puzzled me. He was intelligent, articulate, informed about the world…. I didn’t consciously describe him in the book, but I realized later that a lot of the details were the same.”

“So you thought he was more than just a bum.”

“Of course I did. Kids don’t grow up saying, ‘gee, I want to live under a bridge someday.’ He was special, but I’m sure if you got to know any homeless person you’d discover they’re more than what they seem.”

Her defense surprised Ben; she must have cared a great deal about Simon. The man was an enigma. The autopsy had revealed that he was in fair shape for a guy living on the streets, with a relatively healthy liver for a supposed alcoholic. He also had two, old gunshot-scars and an eagle tattoo on his arm. They’d entered his data into the National Crime Information Center’s Unidentified Person System. Now all they could do was wait until they got a break.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Kelly asked. “I have a job to do.”

“Not right now.”

They returned to City Hall in silence. Kelly hurried away without a word, and his life didn’t improve when he got to his own office. Viv was waiting.

“You have a press conference at noon,” she said, handing him a file. “I wouldn’t have to run down here like this if he’d just give us back the internet in City Hall.”

Damn. He removed a memorandum from the mayor and saw in big, bold letters across the top, “Full Disclosure.” He read further and narrowed his eyes.

In the interest of keeping the public fully informed about the Police Department’s efforts to catch the dock murderers, all details of the investigation are to be released to the media. We cannot appear to be less than candid.

“Excuse me,” Ben said tightly.

He crossed to City Hall and took the stairs two at a time. The day-shift officer assigned to guard the mayor jumped to attention. “Sir?”

“Take a ten-minute break, Officer Mullen.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Mayor Stone looked up as Ben threw open his door without knocking. “Yes, Police Chief Santoni?”

“I just read your memo.”

“Being open and honest is the best policy.”

“That isn’t good police work.”

The mayor put his fingertips together with an air of exaggerated patience. “So far your ‘good police work’ hasn’t resulted in an arrest.”

“Giving up one of our few advantages won’t change that. It’s standard to keep certain details of an investigation confidential. Do you want to be responsible for making our job harder?”

Stone scowled. He might not be brilliant, but he wasn’t a dumb politician. “If you really think it’s important, we’ll do it your way. At least for a while.”

“I appreciate your support,” Ben said, a hint of irony in his voice.

“I’ve always supported the police department. Naturally it was easier when my brother was the police chief. He did such a splendid job for this community, the crime rate was practically zero.”

Right.

The Stone brothers at the helm of Sand Point.

Small-town nepotism at its finest.

Only the crime rate hadn’t been “practically zero” under Frank Stone’s lazy management, it had been increasing. The majority of the infractions were misdemeanors like vandalism and shoplifting, but little had made it into official reports. The issues were simply written in the dispatcher’s log; it was easy to have a clean record when you didn’t keep any records.

“Chief, I’m wondering about your late arrival this morning. If the position is too much for you to handle, I’m sure Frank would be willing to come back,” the mayor added with a thin smile. “He doesn’t have child-care responsibilities or other distractions to take him away from his official duties.”

Ben returned the smile with one that was equally insincere. “I wasn’t late. I was conducting an investigation. Since the detectives the city hired are so inexperienced, it’s necessary for me to supplement their efforts. I’m managing my responsibilities just fine.”

Uneasiness crept into Phillip Stone’s eyes, though it was hard to tell why. “We’ll see. What have you learned about the death threats against me?”

“The lab hasn’t found fingerprints or DNA on the letters, including the latest one.”

“Are the threats credible?”

Ben hesitated. “I doubt it, but crackpots aren’t always this careful. They usually leave evidence behind, that could suggest that this is a professional.”

“I suppose that’s something else you don’t think should be released to the media. People are very upset that their mayor is being targeted.”

Though Ben had yet to detect any genuine public concern for Stone’s health and well-being, he didn’t say so. “That’s understandable.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you at the press conference.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Ben gritted his teeth as he left. Phillip Stone talked about playing things down, but his press conferences were making everyone more nervous. Maybe they were about generating publicity for his upcoming reelection campaign, or maybe they were a way to throw doubt on Ben’s ability. The mayor claimed he had confidence in his new police chief, yet in private he seemed seriously pissed that the City Council had hired an outsider instead of his brother.

Local politics.

To think he’d believed that life in Sand Point would be simpler than in Los Angeles.

THAT DEPENDS ON WHAT you’re hiding.

Ben’s words kept hammering in Kelly’s head. He didn’t really think she was involved in Harvey’s and Simon’s deaths, did he? Mitch hadn’t owned a gun and she’d never even touched one herself. Besides, what would she have to gain? No one would kill two people just to sell a few more books.

Kelly locked herself in her office and took out her cell phone. “Henry?” she said when he answered, her voice higher than normal.

“Kelly, are you all right?”

“Not really.”

The story came spilling out. She didn’t want to get between Ben and his uncle, but she needed someone to listen and she couldn’t let Henry and Gina learn about Griffin Bell’s identity from Ben. At least her husband’s family already knew; she’d insisted on paying her father-in-law’s recent medical bills and they’d asked where she’d gotten the money, thinking she was putting herself into debt for them.

“It’s okay,” Henry soothed at the end of her frantic explanation. “The police have to explore every angle, no matter how ridiculous.”

Kelly recalled Ben’s expression—angry, but not necessarily suspicious. She might have overreacted…perhaps because deep down it hurt that he might even wonder if she was involved. His distrustful nature had been a problem even when they were children. The day they’d met he’d assumed she was trespassing in his uncle’s yard; it hadn’t occurred to him that she had a right to be there. It was the side of Ben that she disliked the most.

Sometimes it was hard to believe the way she’d behaved that last summer, so crazy in love she was ready to break every rule she’d ever made for herself. The way Ben had kissed her, touched her, every breathless, heart-pounding moment of being in love for the first time…the temptation had been nearly irresistible.

God, she wouldn’t go back to being eighteen for the world.

“I would have explained if he’d said he wanted to question the author of the books,” she said slowly.

“I know you would have. And your novels are terrific. Gina and I will be fighting over who gets to be president of the Griffin Bell fan club.”

“Please don’t make a fuss.”

“You deserve a fuss. Kelly, honey, why did you keep it secret?”

She sighed. “I didn’t plan to, but the manuscript for Deep Water sold right after Mitch died. It was so unimportant in comparison to losing him, and I just couldn’t get excited without him there to share it with me. Later, with all the sex in the stories, I realized everyone would think of Shanna and figure it was a case of ‘like mother, like daughter.’ Sand Point is so conservative. The whole thing escalated with the murders and I kept hoping they’d be solved and my novels would be forgotten. Especially by the mayor. You’ve heard him talk about the books as if they’re pornographic.”

“Phillip Stone pretends babies are found under cabbage leaves.”

She let out a choked laugh. “Yeah. He’ll probably fire me when he finds out I wrote them.”

“He doesn’t have the authority,” Henry said firmly. “And he can’t afford to offend Max Lawson’s daughter-in-law. Max would run for office again if it meant protecting you, and Phillip knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against Max. Stone only got in because of that midterm election. It was by default and he knows it.”

Henry wasn’t exaggerating. Her father-in-law had resigned after his son’s death, too devastated to do anything else, but he was still popular.

“Your mother had a good heart, Kelly. That’s what counts. As for what some people might think…they aren’t worth worrying about. I’m sure the Lawsons are as proud as I am.”

“They seemed pleased. They don’t need to be concerned, but that hasn’t stopped them from fretting over my future.”

They chatted a few minutes longer before she said goodbye.

Henry’s assurances helped. Kelly worried too much about what people thought, but she’d never wanted Mitch or his parents to be embarrassed because of her. The Lawsons had always been kind, though in the beginning they must have wondered what sort of wife their son was getting.

She’d wondered.

What had she known about being a wife and member of such a squeaky-clean, American-as-apple-pie family?

Her cell phone beeped with a text message from Viv. Noon press Conf. Hizonor and Ben had hrt 2 hrt. B hated Hzs last memo.

Kelly made a face. Ben again.

And yet a shot of adrenaline went through her. He would undoubtedly reveal her identity as the author of the Deep books. She couldn’t blame him. Being able to say something was better than “no comment.”

At noon she resolutely walked down to the room where the mayor held his press conferences. Facing the questions directly was the smartest move, but she wasn’t looking forward to it.

BEN’S EYEBROWS ROSE WHEN he saw Kelly in the back of the room. Her chin tilted defiantly and he was torn between admiration and irritation.

He’d just finished talking to his uncle about Kelly. Henry’s ire had reached new heights, but he’d eventually calmed down and asked Ben not to say she’d written the Deep books. Henry and Gina weren’t entirely reasonable when it came to Kelly, though they hadn’t needed to worry—there was no point in revealing her identity, and some benefit to keeping it confidential. If someone was copycatting the murders in her novels it was probably for thrills and attention, and Ben didn’t want to feed the situation.

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