Against the Edge

Amusement slid through him. At least Claire Chastain was keeping him entertained. “You’ll think of something.”

He headed around the corner to the rear of the building. Behind the apartment, each ground-level unit had a small fenced yard. Bridger’s had enough dog crap to tell him that Pepper had definitely been in residence.

Using a credit card, he opened the cheesy lock on the back door into the kitchen. The good news was, the place hadn’t been cleaned. He made his way into the living room, past a worn tweed sofa with a couple of springs sticking out, and opened the front door for Claire.

As she walked inside, her nose wrinkled at the musty, unpleasant smell. “It looks like he’s been gone awhile. Thank God the cleaning crew hasn’t been in.”

Smart lady. “Doesn’t look like the cops have been here, either. Maybe the landlord wouldn’t let them in without a warrant.”

“The Robersons convinced the police Sam ran away, so they probably didn’t try to get one.”

He made a quick sweep of the living room and bedroom. “I don’t see any sign of a kid being here. Sam disappeared eleven days ago. If Bridger took him, they must have headed straight out of town.”

“Let’s make sure,” Claire said.

He nodded. “I’ll look in here. You take another look in the bedroom.”

Claire disappeared into the other room while Ben made a slow sweep of the living room, looking for anything that might have information they could use. All he saw were old movie-ticket stubs, dirty Kleenex, candy wrappers and empty foam cups. Nothing of any value.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he took out one of the small brown paper bags he carried for evidence collection, tucked the cup inside for a DNA sample.

He wandered into the kitchen, found an overdue electric bill on the counter. The wet garbage had been carried out, but a lot of paper trash remained. He used a pen to poke through litter here and there, looking for any scrap that might lead to Bridger.

His eye caught a haphazardly stacked pile of what looked like opened, discarded mail. Bridger’s name was on the envelopes and flyers, most of which were advertisements. All but one. A VISA credit card statement. The card had recently been canceled. This was the closing statement. No charges. No money owed.

It had been mailed to unit four but the name on the envelope wasn’t Troy Bridger. It was Troy Bennett.

Bingo.

He refolded the piece of paper, stuck it back in the envelope and shoved it into his hip pocket. Looking up, he saw Claire walking back into the living room, her eyes wide, her face as pale as cotton.

Ben started toward her, caught her shoulders to steady her. “Claire, what is it?”

She looked up at him, moistened her lips. “Blood...”

He urged her over to the sofa, sat her down on one of the sagging cushions. “Stay here.”

Blood. It didn’t mean anything. It could be anyone’s blood. There was no reason to think it was Sam’s. Still, a knot formed in his stomach as he rushed into the bedroom.

Nothing in there. But in the bathroom, the sink was covered with a dried, dark brown substance that could only be blood.

Using his pocket knife, he scraped enough blood off the porcelain into another bag for a sample. There was a fine spatter on the walls, but nothing else in the room besides dirt, mold and rust around the bathtub.

He spotted pieces of a broken glass in the corner and felt a hint of relief.

The color was back in Claire’s face when he returned to the living room.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stood up. “Was it really’”

“It’s blood, but there’s no reason to think it’s Sam’s.”

“No, of course not. I was just... It scared me.”

“I found pieces of a broken glass. Looks like that’s what happened. Someone cut himself and bled into the sink. Doesn’t look like enough to be fatal. I took a sample. We’ll see what it shows.”

“Maybe the police can match the DNA or something, find out Bridger’s real name.”

“They have to have something to match the DNA to. Bridger would have to be in the system. Can take a while to find out.” He rested a hand at the small of her back as they started for the door. “The good news is I found an old VISA bill in the name of Troy Bennett.”

She stopped so suddenly, the curve of her bottom came up against his groin. “Oh, my God, that must be his real name.” Ben stepped back, the firm roundness feeling way too good.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes a guy like that uses half a dozen aliases.”

“Oh. Are you giving the card number to the police?”

“I’m giving the number to a friend in Houston. The card’s been canceled, but with any luck, he can tell us where it was used last.”

“What about the police?”

“Not yet. If Bridger’s got my son, I don’t want the police accidentally tipping him before we can get to him. We don’t know anything about this guy. We don’t know what he might do.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” There were things he needed to do. More pieces of the puzzle to find and fit together. More information he needed in order to find his son.

* * *

On the way back to her apartment, Claire sat quietly as Ben phoned Tyler Brodie and got the name of a private lab he and John Riggs occasionally used when they were working a case. She waited in the car while Ben went in to drop off the blood sample he had scraped out of the sink, fidgeting, wondering if they would be able to get a result before the end of the day.

A few minutes later, Ben climbed back into the car.

“How long will it take them to get the DNA?” she asked as he started the engine.

“They’ll have the blood type by tomorrow morning at the latest. Getting the DNA and running it through CODIS will take a couple more days.”

“CODIS...that’s the criminal offender database. I’ve dealt with it in my work.” Social Services had to know as much as possible about the people they were trying to help. The system gave them badly needed information.

“It only works if the DNA from the blood belongs to someone in the system. If that’s the case, they’ll be able to tell us who it is.”

She glanced out the window, saw the sun sitting low on the horizon, the afternoon slipping away. “Sam’s blood type is O-negative. He took a fall off a skateboard, cut his arm and had to have stitches. I went with Laura to the emergency room.”

“O-negative. Same as mine.” Something flashed in his eyes. Not relief that the boy was his. Something a father might feel when he spoke of his son. “They would probably have taken a sample of his DNA when he went into the foster care program.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Claire didn’t say more. She didn’t want to think that the blood belonged to Sam, that he might have been seriously injured. There had been no sign of a child, she reminded herself. Chances were the blood was Troy’s.

As soon as they got back to her apartment, Ben went to work on his laptop, trying to find something on the name Troy Bennett. He also called his friend in Houston, a guy named Sol Greenway, he had told her, a computer expert, and put him to work, as well.

Now Ben was pacing, waiting to hear back from his friend. Clearly, Ben wasn’t a patient man.

His iPhone rang. He picked it up from where it sat next to his laptop and pressed it against his ear, looked at her and shook his head. Not the lab or Sol Greenway.

“Brodie. What’s up?”

She couldn’t hear what Tyler Brodie was saying on the other end of the line but Ben’s face looked grim when he hung up the phone.

“What is it?”

“Brodie talked to the cops.” Ben stuck the phone in his pocket. “They said Sam’s teachers knew he was unhappy. The police are sticking to their theory that Sam’s a runaway. They’re checking local hangouts, places where kids congregate who’ve left home.”

“I could talk to them again, try to convince them. I know it’s Bridger. Laura said he promised he would find a way to pay her back for what she did to him.” She glanced away. “And he wanted to hurt me, as well.” She looked back at him. “Maybe this time the police will listen.”

“Look, Brodie’s going to check the runaway angle, too. He says he knows some of the lowlifes who lure these kids into working for them. They use them for drug mules, get them to steal. Traffic them. He’ll find out if any of these guys have seen Sam.”

Claire’s heart jerked. “Traffic them? Oh, God, Ben.” Her eyes filled and she started shaking. She had blocked that kind of possibility out of her mind. She couldn’t stand to think of Sam being sexually abused, suffering in some terrible way.

She felt Ben’s arms go around her, drawing her against his powerful chest. “It’s all right. We don’t know that’s happened. From the start you’ve been convinced Sam didn’t run away, that it was Bridger who took him.”

She looked up at him, into his strong, handsome face. “What if I’m wrong?”

“Are you?”

She swallowed. She was risking Sam’s life. Claire shook her head. “No.” She eased away from him, felt the loss of his warmth.

“Then we keep looking for Bridger. My instincts say you’re right. Bridger wanted revenge against Laura. With her dead, he wants payback from you. He went to see Sam on at least two different occasions. Sam was desperate to escape and Troy used that desperation to convince the kid to go with him. We just have to figure out where he’s gone.”

His cell rang again. Claire watched his expression, read his determination to find his son. She thought of the way he had tried to comfort her. She hadn’t expected his sympathy. Ben Slocum didn’t strike her as a sympathetic man. But he had surprised her at Bridger’s apartment. Surprised her here. There was no mistaking his concern.

He ended the call. “That was Sol. Troy Bennett worked as a crane operator in Vegas. He lived with a woman, an exotic dancer named Sadie Summers. His old VISA bills show he left town about six months ago and came to L.A.”

“How does your friend Sol know all that?”

Ben’s mouth edged up. “Sol doesn’t say and I don’t ask. But I need to talk to Sadie Summers.”

He started for the bedroom, but Claire caught his arm. “I’m going with you, Ben. We’re in this together. I promised Laura.”

“Fine, get on the phone and charter us a plane out of Santa Monica. It’s only a little over an hour flight. If we get going, we can be back late tonight.”

Claire didn’t argue. She had money in the bank, enough to rent the plane. She got on the internet and found a charter company, arranged for a flight from the Santa Monica airport to McCarran Field.

“We’re all set,” she called out as she walked down the hall. “The plane’ll be ready to leave in an hour.” Ben’s door stood open. She stopped in the opening. He stood beside the bed, naked to the waist, a yellow oxford-cloth shirt lying on the bedspread ready to be put on.

Claire just stared. Her heart was pounding, the blood rushing to her head. It was impossible to look away from all those perfect muscles. Impossible to keep from thinking of sex, which she hadn’t had since her breakup with her former boyfriend, Michael Sullivan, five months ago.

Rarely before that, since he was gone so much.

“Keep looking at me like that, angel, and we’re going to have to add a couple hours to our departure.”

She stared into those ice-blue eyes that were anything but cold and felt light-headed. “A couple of hours?”

“I’d prefer to take the rest of the day, but we have things to do.”

Her face heated up. “Oh. Oh, my God.” Turning, she hurried back down the hall, embarrassment washing through her. She couldn’t believe she had gawked at him that way. It wasn’t like her to let a man’s appearance affect her. She was interested in brains, not brawn. Well, usually.

In her bedroom, she grabbed a small overnight bag out of her closet, tossed in a change of underwear, a clean T-shirt, a sweater, her makeup bag and travel kit. By the time she walked into the living room, her composure had returned.

Ben was unplugging his laptop, putting it in its case.

Claire lifted her chin. “If you didn’t want to be stared at, you shouldn’t have left your door open.”

Ben’s mouth edged up. “Actually, I didn’t mind at all. In fact, I’m hoping you’ll return the favor.”

Heat slid through her as she thought of those amazing eyes running over her half-naked body. She wondered if he found her attractive. What kind of woman appealed to a hard man like Ben?

“As you rightly pointed out,” she said, staring at him down the length of her nose, “we don’t have time for those kinds of distractions.”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He grabbed his laptop case and the black canvas duffel he’d brought with him, though clearly he’d only packed enough for the night. “I doubt we’ll be staying, but you never know what might turn up.”

She grabbed her overnight bag and they headed out the door.

Less than two hours later, she climbed down off the wing of their chartered Cessna 310 and crossed the tarmac next to Ben, toward the rental car she had arranged. The sun had set, but the lights of the casinos were so bright it didn’t seem dark in Las Vegas.

“Since you insisted on paying for the plane,” she said, “I used my card for the car.”

Ben flicked her a glance. “A liberated woman. I figured.”

But she wasn’t sure he liked it. The guy had macho stamped in invisible letters on his forehead. Macho men weren’t usually attracted to independent women. She told herself it didn’t bother her.

They climbed into the Toyota Corolla she had rented from Hertz. Ben plugged the address he had for Sadie Summers into the GPS and started the car. It occurred to her that if the meeting went anything like it had at Warner Construction, Ben would probably make more progress with the stripper if he went alone.

Claire didn’t suggest it.

Six

It was chilly in Las Vegas but the cool fall weather didn’t deter the millions of tourists who prowled the casino strip. Ben avoided Las Vegas Boulevard, taking a less-crowded route from the airport to an address on the west side of town. A couple of times as he drove along, his glance strayed to Claire.

Ben knew women and there’d been no mistaking the sexual interest in those big green eyes when she had caught him half-naked in his bedroom. He hadn’t missed the way her breath quickened, the pulse that throbbed at the base of her throat. It was good to know the growing attraction he felt for her was returned.

But Sam was the priority for both of them, and even if the time were right, he wasn’t sure the lady would invite him into her bed. Claire was uptight and reserved. She wasn’t the type to have sex with a man she barely knew.

On his side, Ben didn’t want the problems that came with sexual intimacy. He wasn’t good at the morning-after niceties. As far as he was concerned, by morning both parties had gotten what they wanted and it was over.

He was pretty sure that wasn’t the way Claire approached a physical relationship. She’d want more, and he wasn’t the kind of guy who could give it to her.

Still, just thinking about stripping off those conservative clothes and discovering the woman beneath sent his blood pumping south, and inside his jeans he started getting hard. Shifting against his growing arousal, he turned on the radio and concentrated on following the directions to the address he had punched into the GPS.

It turned out to be an apartment in a low-rent section of Vegas. Two stories, white with black trim, a couple of scrawny trees in front. A light shone on a play area with swings and a sandbox that sat inside a chain-link fence next to the building.

“Maybe I should wait in the car,” Claire said as he turned off the engine, which surprised him since she had always insisted on going everywhere he did. One look at her face and he knew what she was thinking.

“The horny redhead at the construction site wasn’t my type and the last thing I want is to be alone with a stripper.” She’d been uptight since their encounter in the hall that morning. It was nice to see her smile.

“Okay.”

They got out of the car and made their way up to the porch. Ben knocked on the door and a minute later it swung open. Sadie Summers was a brassy blonde with a couple of kids. He could see them playing on the floor in her living room. He hadn’t expected that.

“I’m Ben Slocum and this is Claire Chastain. I know it’s getting late. We’re sorry to bother you, Ms. Summers, but we’re looking for a man named Troy Bennett. We’re hoping you can help us find him.”

He’d told Claire to let him take the lead, decide how much information to feed her. If Sadie Summers was still in contact with Bennett, and Bennett had Sam, he didn’t want her to give the guy a heads-up and a chance to run.

Sadie propped a hand on her hip. “I have no idea where that rat bastard is. I haven’t seen him in months. Troy left me holding the bag on the rent. He was supposed to pay five hundred toward the bills, but at the end of the month, he just took off. I haven’t seen him since.”

Ben glanced over at Claire. “Mind if we come in? I’ll pay you the five hundred he owes if you’ll help us find him.”

Sadie’s blond eyebrows went up. “Sounds like my kinda deal.” She had a curvy figure, but she was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. Ben supposed she showed off her body enough at the strip club.

Sadie opened the door and stepped back so they could walk in. “You kids go to your room and play. Mama’s got company.”

The kids’a dark-haired, mixed-heritage boy about five, and a little blonde girl about six’scrambled off down the hall.

“You want some iced tea or something?”

He started to say no.

“I’d love some,” Claire said, nudging him in the ribs.

Sadie smiled. “I’ve got some made. Kitchen’s right this way.”

Claire threw him a look as she walked past, letting Sadie lead her into the kitchen. Nice move, he thought. Being friendly and forming a connection wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe Claire would be an asset after all.

By the time Sadie returned to the living room, she was smoking a cigarette and laughing. Claire handed Ben a glass of iced tea, took a drink of her own, and all of them sat down in the living room.

Ben leaned forward in an overstuffed brown chair while the women sat on the couch. “What can you tell us about Bennett?” he asked.

Sadie blew out a lungful of smoke. “Not a lot. He was kind of the strong, silent type. We met at the club. Troy was good-looking in a rough sort of way. He worked for Vector Crane as one of the operators.”

“You know where he came from?” Claire asked. “Where he was born?”

“The South someplace. Every once in a while his drawl would slip out. I know he lived in Alabama for a while, but I don’t think he was born there. He had a couple of brothers in Louisiana. I don’t know where.”

Louisiana. If Troy was going home the way Tracy Ferber had believed, he might be headed to Louisiana.

“How’d he get along with the kids?” Ben asked, watching Sadie closely.

She took a deep drag, blew out a stream of smoke. “Okay, when he was sober. He was mean when he got drunk. I think it bothered him that Billy was a mixed-blood kid, but mostly he ignored them.”

“How about you? He treat you okay?”

Sadie shrugged her shoulders. “Troy knocked me around a couple of times when he’d been drinking. Once in a while he popped off how men were superior to women. He never hit the kids, but I think they were glad when he left.”

Ben exchanged a glance with Claire. He could read the worry on her face. He was just beginning to understand how much she cared about his son. It touched him unexpectedly. Having a child made him see life in a way he hadn’t since the day he’d found Laura in bed with another man.

He listened as Claire asked about Sadie’s kids, then Claire told her about Sam and that he was missing. Ben didn’t know his son, but Claire did. Hearing her say what a good kid he was, how smart and loyal, gave him a picture of the child he had fathered.

He fought down a wave of fury at the man who had taken him.

Ben focused his attention on the blonde woman across from him. “Is there anyone else in Vegas we could talk to, Sadie? Someone who might know where Troy could have gone?”

She took a drink of her tea. “There was a guy he worked with, but he’s not here anymore. Eddie Jeffries. I heard Eddie quit his job about the same time Troy did. I think they went down to L.A. together.”

The trail led back to L.A. Maybe they’d get lucky this time.

Ben stood up from his chair. Pulling his silver money clip out of his pocket, he peeled off five hundred-dollar bills. “You’ve been a big help, Sadie.” He handed her the money. “Thanks.”

“I hope you find the prick.”

Ben gave her one of his business cards. “If you think of anything that might help, give me a call.”

Sadie walked them to the door. “There is one thing.”

Ben stopped and turned. “What’s that?”

“I don’t think Bennett was really Troy’s last name.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s pretty much what I figured.” From what Sol had said, Troy Bennett had been born full grown, just another alias to be discarded.

Claire leaned over and hugged the buxom blonde. “Thank you, Sadie. We’re both so worried. We really appreciate your help.” It was clear Claire felt a deep sense of responsibility for Sam’s disappearance. The pain she suffered was almost palpable.

And yet he couldn’t help thinking that some of it was deserved. If she had come to him when Laura had first given her his name, or even after Laura got sick, none of this would have happened.

Sadie looked at Ben. “Troy’s bad about holding grudges. Once you’ve pissed him off, he can’t seem to let it go. But I don’t think he’d hurt your boy. At least not when he’s sober.”

Ben’s jaw hardened. Troy Bennett had better not hurt his son. If he did, he wouldn’t have to worry about going to prison.

He would be dead.

* * *

Claire was exhausted by the time the plane landed back in Santa Monica and they started the drive to her apartment. It was late but the trip had been worth it.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Ben said, spotting a row of fast-food restaurants up ahead. “McDonald’s all right?”

“At this point anything is good.” She rarely ate fast food, but she was starving. They ordered from the drive-through, then sat in the parking lot to eat so the food wouldn’t get cold.

“I’m mostly a steak-and-potatoes guy,” Ben said as he unwrapped his burger. “I cook for myself at home. Mostly steaks or chops on the grill and salad. It’s not gourmet, but it’s healthier than this stuff.” He took a big bite, talked around it. “On the other hand, sometimes you just can’t beat a Big Mac.”

Claire smiled. She had ordered a chicken sandwich. She wished it didn’t taste so good. “You’re from Pittsburgh. How did you get to Houston?”

“SEAL buddy. Houston was his hometown. He talked me into giving it a try, then a couple years later, moved away.”

“I know you don’t have a wife or family.”

“I’m not the family type’or at least I wasn’t. What about you? You born in L.A.?”

“I’m from upstate New York. White Plains. I did social work there for a couple of years after I graduated from college, but my family still lives there. I wanted to be a little more independent, get out on my own.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“No, just me. My parents and I are still pretty close. I talk to my mom every week, but right now they’re out of the country.” She smiled. “Mediterranean cruise. It’s a lifelong dream.”

“Sounds nice.”

“They’re crazy about each other.”

He glanced away, and she wondered if it bothered him to talk about family, since he didn’t have one.

“So you like L.A?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t think I want to live here forever.” She took another bite of her sandwich, enjoying the taste of real mayonnaise, a treat she rarely allowed herself. She was reaching for her Diet Coke when Ben’s iPhone started ringing.