Reunited in Danger (2 page)

Chapter Two

Keely’s heart stuttered when the EMTs rolled Ben’s gurney into a huge, machine-filled
room with beige-curtained partitions at the hospital. The strong smell of bleach and
lemon cleaner stung her nostrils and the nausea from earlier built again.

She felt as helpless now about her dad as she had thirty minutes earlier with the
two children in court. Why did bad things happen to good people? What use was she
in a system and in a world teeming with criminals? Her dad had raised her right. He’d
showed by example that hard work and compassion paid off.

But they weren’t paying off. Not right now. Not for him.

She stepped closer to the curtained room. A nurse outside the partition drew the curtain
shut and held up a hand to stop her.

“Why the hell is everyone trying to keep me away?” Keely snapped, then regretted her
statement. The nurse had a job to do.

“Does yelling at people help you get closer?” A man’s familiar voice came from behind
her.

Keely froze, then her heart kicked up a racing rhythm. It had been ten years, and
the voice was lower now, but she’d recognize it anywhere.

Logan North.

She resisted the urge to whip her head around, and instead she turned slowly, determined
not to show him how his presence affected her.

And then she caught sight of him and went a little dizzy.

Logan’s muscular frame filled the space between two other cops who stood in the hallway.
He was broader than she’d remembered him. Ten years had turned the boy into a man.
In blue jeans, a simple gray T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, he looked out of
place among the uniformed officers, until he held his police badge out for the quizzical
nurse.

Suddenly, he looked up and caught her gaze. His brown eyes held the intensity of a
caged animal.

Keely wanted to hate him. Wanted to pretend he’d never been a part of her life.

But she couldn’t do either. She knew firsthand how Logan North’s arms could make the
worst pain go away. Or make the heartache last forever.

And she knew how much Logan cared for her father. That had to be why he was here.

Because he certainly wasn’t here for her. Never had been.

…

Logan hadn’t planned to talk to Keely. He wasn’t even a part of this investigation
and shouldn’t be at the hospital flashing his badge and ordering people around. He
knew she wasn’t happy to see him. He’d visited Ben plenty of times over the past ten
years, but he’d always made sure those visits happened when she wasn’t around. He
hadn’t wanted to see her distain. Her anger. But the need to protect Ben overrode
his desire to avoid her, so here they were.

But now, as she looked at him with her shining blue eyes, he thought for a second
maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she had forgiven him for what he’d done ten years ago.

He swept his gaze down her form. Her utilitarian dark gray pants, white shirt, and
black blazer did nothing to hide her curves. She’d filled out more since the last
time he’d seen her, with curves in all the right places, and yet her body seemed so
familiar…the same coconut shampoo that made him want to lean closer, the same hitch
to her breath that he remembered so clearly. When he looked back up to catch her gaze,
the steely look in her eyes made it clear she was just as strong-willed now as the
first time they met when she was thirteen. But pain shone in her eyes, too.

What did she need? Oddly, he had no idea. Trained to respond to emergencies—he’d been
a cop for over seven years, after a three-year stint in the Marines—he was clueless
how to help her.

“Logan,” she whispered.

His heart surged. There. She’d taken the first step. He wanted to touch her, but didn’t
dare. But then her bottom lip quivered, and he was lost. Three strides closed the
distance between them.

And yet he kept his arms at his sides.

“North?”

The familiar voice yanked him out of his fog. He looked over to see Bruce Dunnigan,
one of the detectives with Violent Crimes, approaching.

“What’s Homicide have to do with this case?” Dunnigan asked.

“Victim’s a friend,” Logan answered. He’d been friends with Dunnigan for years, too,
and was relieved to see he would be heading the investigation. He introduced Keely
to the detective, who gave her a polite but reserved smile when Logan explained his
connection to Ben and Keely.

“Do you have any idea who might have attacked your father, Ms. Allen?” Dunnigan asked
her.

“No,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I’ll get more information from you later after I talk with the responding officers.”
Dunnigan turned and left.

Keely reached her hands out, and Logan thought for a minute she’d seek comfort in
his touch, then she pulled back and crossed her arms over her chest. Seeing her like
this—troubled, confused—rattled him. But she wouldn’t want that. Not from him. He
notched his chin toward the waiting room and led her to a chair.

“What was Ben doing today? Was he at the church?” he asked.

“He was supposed to be at the airport, picking up a pregnant woman from Los Angeles.”

“Loving Arms stuff?” He’d helped Ben with fundraising a few times, supporting the
non-profit agency that acted as an intermediary for pregnant women, offering everything
from help with adoption lawyers to health care to baby blankets knit by Ben’s church
members.

She nodded, but didn’t look at him.

“Is there anyone you can think of who has something against Ben?”

“Everybody loves him. The police wouldn’t let me inside, but I could see that stuff
was thrown everywhere.”

“We’ll figure it out, Keels.” He jolted as the old nickname slipped through his lips.
It stirred old emotions, ones he’d ignore for now. “I have to read the report and
talk to the officers who were first on the scene. Could have been a robbery gone wrong.”

A tear cascaded down her face, and Logan wanted to trail the back of his h
and along her
soft cheek. But instead, he stayed the hell away.

…

Keely’s breathing returned to normal. She hated to admit it, but Logan’s presence
had actually calmed her. Old friends, that was all. They’d been friends as kids, and
because of that, he knew her well enough to know what she needed.

“Keely?”

She looked up to see Mrs. Beyer crossing the waiting room.

“How is your dad? They won’t tell me anything.”

She took in the woman’s pinched and wrinkled face, gray hair pulled starkly back into
a bun, bandaged forehead, and a sad expression in her hazel eyes. She flicked her
gaze over to Logan, who stood with crossed arms. He stared at the other woman, as
if inspecting Mrs. Beyer from a law enforcement point of view. Was he seriously considering
Ben’s neighbor a suspect? Both Keely and Logan had been in Mrs. Beyer’s fourth grade
classroom together.
Give me a break.
The poor woman had been through enough for one day.

“Logan, would you excuse us for a minute?” Keely pinned him with a stare as she gently
laid a hand on Mrs. Beyer’s arm.

He hesitated, then glanced at the cluster of police down the hallway. “No problem.
I want to go talk with those guys anyway. Glad you’re feeling okay, Mrs. Beyer.”

“Thank you, Logan. And I’m glad you’re here. For Ben, and for Keely,” the older woman
said.

He uncrossed his arms, awkwardly shoved his hands deep in his front pockets, hesitated
for a moment, then turned and strode toward the uniformed policemen.

Keely ignored the tension radiating off Logan and focused on the elderly lady, who
seemed pale and shaky. After leading Mrs. Beyer to a chair, Keely sat beside her.
The woman’s gaze connected with hers. Hurt and pain were reflected there.

“Thank you so much for calling me, Mrs. Beyer.”

“Please call me Margaret.”

When she nodded, Mrs. Beyer—
Margaret
—took a breath and blew it out.

“What were you doing in the house?” she continued. “Were you there when my dad was
attacked?”

Margaret smoothed her gray skirt along her thighs, as if trying to decide whether
or not to speak. Then she turned to face Keely again. “I have a key.” She glanced
down the hall at the police who, along with Logan, were now walking toward them.

“A key to my dad’s?” Keely asked.

“We’ve been seeing each other for quite a while now.”

Keely froze for a moment, then remembered the dinners and cookies her dad had mentioned,
the touch of rouge she’d seen on Margaret’s cheek once when Keely had stopped by Ben’s…the
scent of perfume.

Oh, wow
. Margaret was in love with Ben.

“You’re the first one to know.” Margaret turned three shades of red and bit her bottom
lip. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors talking.”

Keely’s generation understood and accepted nonmarital relationships, but many of the
elderly people in the Greenmount West neighborhood did not.

“I think it’s great.” She smiled, despite her worry for her dad. Her adoptive mother
had died five years earlier in a car accident. Her father deserved happiness, and
she was glad he’d found someone.

Margaret laid a fragile hand on hers. Maybe not so fragile, since the woman owned
a shotgun and obviously wasn’t afraid to use it. When Keely noticed the detective
she’d met earlier approaching, along with Logan, she wasn’t sure if Margaret’s touch
was a friendly gesture or one meant to gain support.

“Ms. Allen, Mrs. Beyer, I’d like to ask you both a few questions. If you’ll follow
me,” Detective Dunnigan said, leaving them little choice as he turned and walked down
the hall.

She looked to Logan for confirmation. He nodded.

“Want me to stay with you during the interview?” he asked.

“If it’s okay with the detective, it’s okay with me.” She stood and offered her elbow
to Margaret. They linked arms and walked the distance together. She didn’t feel so
alone in her need to help her father anymore. Margaret had witnessed the attack on
Keely’s dad, had even scared the men away. Perhaps she could help identify the bastards
who’d beaten Ben up.

Keely blew out a nervous breath as Detective Dunnigan ushered her, Logan, and Margaret
toward a small conference room off the hospital hallway.

At the doorway, Dunnigan paused. “We’ll ask some questions of you first, Ms. Allen.
Mrs. Beyer, if you could wait out here for a while?” He gestured to a set of fiberglass
chairs in the hall.

Margaret took a seat and Keely left her alone to step inside the room. Logan followed
her, lowering himself in the chair next to the one she’d selected. This close, she
could smell him, and feel his presence. She sat, but scooted her chair away, needing
to keep distance between them. She glanced up to see he’d narrowed his eyes. Her act
had been childish, she knew. But she’d do what she could to keep from letting him
into her life again, even if his presence here was a comfort.

Dunnigan shot a glance at Logan.

“I’m not here in a professional capacity. I’m off the clock,” Logan quickly said.

“Fine. This is an informal interview, anyway. But don’t interfere, or your ass is
out of here.” Dunnigan turned his focus on Keely. “Do you know what your father’s
plans were for the day?”

“He was supposed to pick up a pregnant eighteen-year-old Thai woman at the airport
who wanted to give up her baby for adoption.”

“He brings aliens into the country?”

“No. She’s an American citizen. He runs a US program called Loving Arms, which helps
young pregnant women. He does it through his church—he’s the pastor at Great Grace
Nondenominational Church in East Baltimore.” Why did she feel the need to defend her
dad? He did everything lawfully.

“Is it possible the woman was with him when he entered his house?”

Keely frowned. Dunnigan had a point. If her dad went to the airport to pick someone
up, where was the woman? “I don’t know. Either Craig Bittinger or our office manager,
Dave Phoenix, might know, though. They both volunteer with the program at church and
are on the board of directors for Loving Arms.”

After Dunnigan wrote down the church’s phone number she gave him, he asked if she
knew anyone who would hurt her father. The question shocked her. She couldn’t imagine
anyone hurting her dad. People loved him. He’d helped so many people in the community.
Dunnigan excused her, and she stood, realizing her legs were shaking. Logan stood,
too, and stepped close.

“Keely?” He placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

She hated how his touch made her feel steadier. Hated how heat seared through her
shirt, too. A lump formed in her throat as a memory tried to surface of how it felt
to be held in those strong arms. She forced the memory and the lump away.

“I want to stay for Mrs. Beyer’s interview,” he said. “Are you okay by yourself?”

She’d survived just fine without him for ten years, so what made him think she needed
him now? She straightened her back and modulated her voice to a courtroom
sang-froid
. “I’m fine. Thanks for your help, Officer North.”

His back went ramrod straight and his lips pressed together to form a firm line.
Good. Now he understood
. This was a professional acquaintance only.

With a nod to Dunnigan, she turned and walked away.

Logan would be out of their lives as fast as he’d returned. That was his modus operandi—to
leave. The only difference this time was that she wouldn’t let his exit hurt.

Chapter Three

Logan crossed his arms, watching as Dunnigan and Mrs. Beyer shook hands at the end
of his former teacher’s interview with the detective. According to what she’d stated,
she’d heard Ben’s front door slam when she was in her living room. Knowing he wasn’t
supposed to be home, she called his home phone, and then his cell. When she heard
banging noises, she’d called 911, then Keely, and then had grabbed her shotgun and
headed next door.

He would have laughed at the visual of Mrs. Beyer and her shotgun if it hadn’t ended
with both her and Ben getting hurt. Apparently, two men in ski masks and long-sleeved
shirts had attacked Ben. One white, one black, and both over six feet and muscular.
With the ski masks, she hadn’t recognized them, but had thought they seemed familiar.

Not a lot of new information, but the one thing that stood out was how Mrs. Beyer
had noticed the place had been tossed, but that the thugs had only taken Ben’s briefcase
and ran.

After exchanging good-byes with both the detective and Mrs. Beyer, he headed down
the hall, on his way to find Ben and Keely.

“You should be using your spare time making arrangements for your move to Texas, not
hanging out at a hospital.” Quinn’s deep voice echoed in the hallway.

Surprised, Logan turned around and faced his partner. “What are you doing here?”

“I never left. Nice guy that I am, I’ve been waiting for you. Besides, our shift starts
in an hour, and you were my ride here.”

“Sorry. I should have left you the car keys.”

“I got nothing else going on before we clock in.” Quinn glanced up and down the hall.
“So, where is Keely? I’d like to meet this woman who has such a hold on you.”

Logan frowned. “Hold on me? I don’t think so.”

“Yeah? You don’t see that look on your face I see whenever you bring up her name.
Usually after a few beers. Sometimes when you’re overtired.”

Quinn had too much time on his hands. The guy needed to focus on his own family’s
drama and stop butting into Logan’s life.

“Do you want the keys to my SUV so you can go home before our shift?”

“I can wait. Besides, I want to hear all about her on the way to the station.”

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. Let Quinn wait. “You’ll have to find something
else to talk about, though. Keely’s off limits.”

“Fine. Have you written your resignation letter yet?”

Crap
. Not this again.

“So you haven’t officially accepted Security Pro’s job offer yet?” Quinn blocked Logan’s
path. “This is the chance of a lifetime. Sitting in an office, accepting that fat
paycheck every week without risking your damn neck every time you walk out your door
to work—”

“I know. I’m taking the damn job.” Of course he was taking the job, but not for the
reasons his coworkers thought.

The accusations last winter of brutality, brought about by a man he’d arrested, had
proven to him he’d never get over his temper. He’d fought the knowledge for years,
but there was no escaping the sharp reality after he’d pounded the drug dealer to
a pulp; his father’s anger was an inescapable part of him.

Being put on probation had probably been the best thing for him—had helped him make
the difficult decision to leave the police force. Working in a high-rise office, sitting
at a desk developing security plans, he wouldn’t have to face criminals any more—and
he wouldn’t risk beating the crap out of another low-life. In a management position,
he’d be safe from doing the wrong thing in the heat of the moment.

He’d made tough decisions like this before. Taking the security development position
was a smart move.

But he couldn’t leave just yet. Not until he made sure Keely and Ben were okay. As
much as he wanted Texas, Texas would have to wait.

…

Keely fell onto a chair in her father’s room and exhaustion seeped into her limbs,
draining her of movement, but she kept her gaze focused firmly on her father. He’d
needed twenty stitches to close a gash over his right eyebrow and along his ear.

Why would anyone hurt a man who lived to help others?

She stretched her feet onto another chair and closed her eyes, relishing the soft
snoring sounds her dad made.

A noise in the hallway jolted her upright and her eyes flew open. The sun had set,
casting an orange glow on the room as yellow and green lights blinked on the machines
around her dad.

“How is he?” Logan whispered, stepping inside the darkened room.

Her lungs caught. Funny, how after all these years, Logan North could still steal
her breath.

He crossed the floor in a few silent footsteps and leaned close, looking at Ben. Bringing
the scent of his leather jacket to her.

“He woke for a few minutes, but then fell back asleep.”

“Did he say anything?” He stared down at her dad’s still form.

Her heart lurched at his display of concern. “No, he wasn’t awake long enough.”

“Come out in the hall for a minute. We need to talk.” He took her hand in his.

Her heart pounded faster at his touch. She couldn’t let him in. Her darn body kept
betraying the vow, though. Using every ounce of willpower she had, she pulled her
hand away. His expression turned quizzical, but she only blinked, adjusting her eyes
to the harsh glare of the fluorescent hallway lights, and dropped her gaze to his
chest. She had to make him think she was unaffected by seeing him again. She shoved
past him and exited her father’s room, coming to a halt in the middle of the hallway
before turning around to face Logan. “Are you on duty tonight?” she asked.

“Eight-to-eight shift.”

She glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. “Did you get any more information from Detective
Dunnigan?”

“Originally, the cops on the scene thought it was a botched robbery. However, it’s
possible someone tried to make this
appear
like a robbery. Mrs. Beyer said one of the thugs took Ben’s briefcase, but other
than that, they left empty-handed. Would you be able to verify nothing of value was
taken?”

“Verify?”

“You know his house better than anyone,” he said. “I want to find out if anything
is missing, and—” He paused and focused somewhere behind her.

She heard footsteps approaching and quickly turned, catching sight of Craig and Amy
Bittinger, members of her father’s church. Switching her focus back to Logan, intent
on introducing him, she noticed he was running his gaze up and down the couple. To
him, everyone was probably a suspect. Suspicion was probably a good trait for an investigator,
but not so great when greeting caring church members.

“Keely, so sorry about your dad. Just awful that something like this could happen
in broad daylight,” Amy said breathlessly.

She noted Amy appeared as crisp and chic as though she’d just stepped out of a fashion
magazine. The woman’s smooth black hair and perfectly-applied makeup accentuated her
delicate Asian features. Keely resisted the urge to pat down her own mussed-up hair.
The church members were there to support her father, not pass judgment on an exhausted
daughter.

“How is Ben?” Craig Bittinger’s voice was cheerful, but forced. As if he knew how
serious an elderly man getting beat up was.

“He’s still asleep,” Logan stated flatly. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry,” Keely said quickly. “Detective Logan North, this is Craig Bittinger and
his wife, Amy. They’re congregants of Dad’s church, and also board members on Loving
Arms.”

Craig shook Logan’s hand. “Detective. You’re on Ben’s case? Do you know what happened?”

“Someone went through Dad’s place,” she said, explaining before Logan could speak.
“Roughed him up when he interrupted them, then stole his briefcase. Would you know
what was in it?”

Next to her, Logan tensed. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked the question, should have
left it to Detective Dunnigan. Craig helped with the travel arrangements when pregnant
girls from out of town came to Baltimore to give their babies up for adoption. He
might know something about her father’s briefcase. Craig and Amy were here, so why
not ask now?

Craig tilted his head. “Sorry, I don’t.”

“If you think of anything that would have made him or his briefcase a target for robbery,
give Detective Dunnigan a call. Here, the main number’s on my card.” Logan fished
out his wallet and handed his cards to both Craig and Amy.

“Tell Ben everyone at church is praying for him,” Craig said, pocketing Logan’s card.
“Dave and Charlie will stop by to see him, also.”

She pressed her lips tight. Her dad should probably have peace and quiet, not visitors.
But well-meaning friends and congregation members would show, no matter what. The
community revolved around Ben. She shook Craig’s hand, gave Amy a brief hug, then
the couple walked back down the hall.

Logan watched the couple leave. “How well does Ben know them?”

“Pretty well. They’re part of the community. Craig owns a local diner, and they’re
both at the church offices a lot.”

“Who were the others he said might stop by?”

“Dad’s secretary, Charlie. And Dave, the office manager at the church.”

“I want to go with you to your dad’s house, see if you can figure out if anything
else besides his briefcase was stolen. I’m not on the case, but I can
walk with you through the house
. Let’s meet in the morning.”

She didn’t need an escort to visit her father’s house, but it would probably sound
childish to refuse his help. Besides, he was only looking out for her dad. “Okay.
I want to stay with Dad tonight, anyway.”

He leaned a hip against the wall. “Why were you asking the Bittingers about what was
in that briefcase?”

“I’m guessing he had paperwork about the girl from Los Angeles in it. Do we know who
or where she is?”

“I talked to Dunnigan earlier. He had deputies check Ben’s car. They found a paper
on the passenger seat, the girl’s name was Su Lin. The airline was contacted—she never
took the flight.”

She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “I can’t divulge any more information
at this point—probably shouldn’t have told you this much. But I know you’re worried
about Ben.”

“I appreciate all this, Logan.”

He checked his watch. “I have to go.” He cast a quick glance at her dad’s room, then
looked back at her. “I don’t like this. I haven’t seen his house in person yet, but
Dunnigan let me see the photos. I don’t think this was a random robbery. Might be
the thugs were after just one thing, Ben’s briefcase.”

But why? What could make a pastor’s briefcase so important? And what could possibly
be important enough to beat up an old man?