Chill Factor
“Was that a subconscious career choice? Or deliberate?”
“My wife thought it was deliberate.”
“Wife?”
“Past tense. We were married for all of thirteen months.”
“When was this?”
“Long time ago. I was barely old enough to vote, much less get married. I shouldn’t have. I was selfish and self-absorbed. Not ready to settle down, certainly not ready to account to anybody. My wanderlust was her main complaint. Among many. All deserved,” he said with a rueful smile.
The loss of his parents had continued to have an effect on him even into his adulthood, influencing decisions, impacting his marriage. What other emotional and psychological scars had that tragic event left on eight-year-old Ben? Had it warped and deformed his soul? He no longer pitched billy fits, but his pent-up anger might have sought other outlets.
&n
bsp; Was he Blue?
The ribbon, the handcuffs, his inconsistencies and evasions were too significant to dismiss. If it had been reported on the radio that Cleary police were looking for him, she could assume that one of her calls to Dutch had gone through. But the FBI? There were essential pieces missing from his explanation of their interest in him.
Yet looking at him, she asked herself for the thousandth time how he could possibly be a man who kidnapped women and in all probability killed them. Surely she would know if a psychopath lived behind his eyes. There was an intensity there, yes. Often they sparked with anger or irritation. But they didn’t gleam with the fanatic, fiery madness of a serial killer.
Most convincing of all the arguments was that he hadn’t harmed her. Indeed, he had risked his own life today to save hers. It had been his voice, raw with emotion and fear, that she had heard calling her out of that void. Then for hours, heedless of his own discomfort, he had held her in his arms, touched her with such tenderness and—
Her thoughts crystallized around a sudden realization. The caresses that she had believed part of a wonderful dream hadn’t been dreamed at all.
As though attuned to her thoughts, he turned his head and fixed his blue gaze on her. “I think it’s time we went to bed.”
CHAPTER
24
BETSY CALHOUN’S DAUGHTER HAD LITTLE TO share with Agents Begley and Wise except cups of hot tea and homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. She explained that her husband was out of town on a buying trip for their office supplies store on Main Street. She wept when she told them about the last time she’d seen her mother.
“I stopped by her house to check on her. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and she was still in her nightgown.”
As Begley had guessed, Betsy Calhoun was suffering from clinical depression over the loss of her husband.
“She rarely left her house anymore,” the woman said. She idly stroked the yellow cat, which had moved from the windowsill to her lap shortly after their arrival. “I encouraged her to get involved in community and church activities, volunteer for charity work, do something. But without Daddy, she couldn’t be motivated to do anything.”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Hoot said, “her car was found in the parking lot of the bank.”
“That’s a mystery. She hadn’t been in the bank for months. Since Daddy passed, I’ve been taking care of all her money matters. I can’t explain why her car was there. Except she evidently took my advice to get out of the house more often.” She dabbed her eyes with an embroidered hankie. “When they found it with that awful blue ribbon tied to the steering wheel, I knew something horrible had happened.”
“Could she have met someone there in the parking lot?”
“Like who?”
“That’s why we’re asking,” Begley said with uncharacteristic patience. “In the hope of learning who that someone may be.”
“I’ve racked my brain, believe me. I can’t think of anyone. Mother just isn’t a social, people person.” Indeed, Betsy Calhoun’s circle of friends was limited to the ladies in her Sunday school class.
“With all due respect to her and your father’s memory,” Hoot said hesitantly, “is it possible she’s been seeing a gentleman friend and keeping it a secret?”
She shook her head adamantly. “Not Mother. She’s had the love of her life. She’s actually shy of other men. I don’t think she’s ever even been on a date with anyone except my father. Mother’s only outings are to the hair salon every Friday morning, church on Sundays, and an occasional trip to the market.”
To her daughter’s knowledge, she’d never had reason to go into the sporting goods store. “What in the world for?”
They asked if she knew Ben Tierney. “Who’s that?”