Chapter Fourteen

"You"re where?"

"Hartford, Connecticut."

"What are you doing in Hartford?" Garnett asked. His voice carried his surprise through the phone line as it raised several octaves.

Jewell rested her elbow on the bedside table and covered her eyes with her hand. She was so tired. Her head pounded and her eyelids felt as if they were lined with lead. It would be so easy to just shift from the chair to the bed and snuggle down into the softness.

"Something pretty terrible happened, Garnett. Benjamin"s sister, Victoria, is in a coma and they don"t know if she"ll survive."

"What? What happened?"

"She was shot, supposedly by the man she was engaged to. It happened yesterday morning. We got the call late yesterday and arrived here early this morning. I"m going to stay here until…" She shrugged, not knowing what defined until. "I need to be here with Benjamin."

Garnett mumbled a curse under his breath. She barely heard through the earpiece. Jewell knew it wasn"t an expletive spawned from anger, but more from shock and empathy.

"Okay. I"ll tell Mom and Dad. Do you think Ruby will be okay at the apartment alone?"

Jewell nodded against her hand in a subconscious answer. Her eyelids slipped down and weights pulled at her limbs. "She"ll be fine. It"ll only be for a few days. I asked Greg to stop by a couple of times to check on her." She heard the shower turn off in the bathroom. "Things are horrible here, Garnett. Keep us in your prayers."

"Take care of you."

"I will. I love you. Give everyone my love."

She tapped the screen of her phone to end the call and stifled a yawn behind her hand. Jewell didn"t know what she needed more, breakfast or sleep. Her stomach grumbled loudly and painfully in the argument for the top position.

It all still seemed unreal to her.

Jewell sat up and forced her eyes open. With an exhausted moan, she looked around the posh bedroom. Benjamin told her these bedrooms were never used because they were smaller and not as lavish as the others. Smaller? Less luxurious? Good Lord! This one suite was nearly as big as Jewell"s entire apartment. She could fit her whole bathroom in the shower.

The house was more extravagant than Jewell ever imagined any house being. It wasn"t a house. It was a mansion. Everywhere she looked was silver, crystal, and gold accents to the point of being gaudy. The floors were marble or hardwood and rich brocade or velvet draperies covered the windows. Jewell couldn"t imagine living in a place like this all the time. It was opulent and occasionally beautiful, but also sterile and cold. She would much rather live in a small, warm home where the people in it were more important than the materials that constructed it.

Jewell looked at the bed. The covers were still rumpled from their few short hours of sleep. A warm glow flowed over her body.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to face her.

Jewell smiled wider and leaned back in her chair. "Some pleasant memories."

Benjamin looked away and rubbed a small towel over his damp hair. She studied the multiple facets of his expression. On the surface, he had a smile on his face and seemed calm and composed. But Jewell saw something behind his eyes. They lacked their usual lively spark, replaced by a smoldering fire. The rich brown color seemed muted and dulled by the events of the last few hours.

He raked his fingers over his scalp and sighed. Jewell reached out to take his hand. After a small, and all too short, squeeze he let go. A twinge of disappointment raced up her spine.

"Are you hungry? If nothing has changed, my parents eat breakfast in their bedrooms so we should be okay to go downstairs and eat."

Jewell nodded and they stood.

"I want to talk to you about something while we eat," Benjamin signed as they walked.

The house was quiet, almost too quiet. Not a single sound, except for the soft click of her shoes on the stairs, echoed through the tomb-like halls. Jewell followed Benjamin down the steps and to the back of the house. A room built of glass and steel opened up beyond a double set of french doors. She looked out onto a vast lawn elaborately decorated with large hedges, flowering bushes, and Grecian-style pottery. The landscaping bordered on pretentious.

"Sit down here. I"ll see what I can find in the kitchen. Do you want anything in particular? Eggs? Bacon?"

Jewell shook her head. "Anything you find. Don"t make anything."

Benjamin disappeared through the doors again, leaving Jewell alone in the huge room. She sat down at a small, round table and fought the desire to put her head down on the beveled glass top and close her eyes. The sound of the door opening again brought her attention around toward it. A man came in and seemed surprised to see her sitting there. He looked to be in his late fifties, perhaps early sixties, with thinning hair that might have once been blond, now speckled with gray. Jewell immediately recognized a family resemblance between this man and Benjamin. The brown of their eyes was the same, and this man had the same strong facial features.

"Oh, I"m sorry to disturb you," he said and turned to leave again.

"No, please. Come in. You"re not disturbing me."

He smiled and came further into the room. There was a pipe in his right hand and he lifted it, silently asking if she minded.

"Go ahead. My father smokes a pipe. I love the smell," Jewell told him with a nod.

The comforting aroma of applewood, cherry, and tobacco filled the room once the tobacco was lit. He sat down in a chair nearby and puffed on the wooden pipe. The scent was the first comforting thing Jewell found, except for Benjamin, since coming into this mausoleum house.

"Did I see you come in with Benjamin?" he asked.

Jewell nodded. "Yes. I"m Jewell Kincaid."

He stood and leaned forward enough to shake her hand before sitting again. "Ben Prescott." Jewell arched her brow. "Yes, the original. I"m Ben"s godfather. Most just call me Prescott."

Jewell cocked her head slightly and looked again into Prescott"s face. "Oh, I thought you were perhaps an uncle. There seemed to be a family resemblance."

This new Benjamin smiled, though it seemed tentative. "I"ll take that as a compliment, seeing what a fine-looking young man my godson is."

Jewell chuckled. She took an instant liking to this man. There was warmth in his eyes she hadn"t seen in anyone else here. Except for Benjamin, her Benjamin. What a nice thought. Her Benjamin. Mr. Prescott reclined and released an aromatic puff of smoke into the air.

"How did you and my godson meet?" Prescott asked.

"I work for him."

One eyebrow arched when he looked at her. "Excuse my surprise, Miss Kincaid, but what I saw last night didn"t seem like an employer-employee relationship. The two of you appeared to be close."

Jewell felt heat rush to her cheeks and she looked down at her folded hands. "Well, it is more than that. He"s a friend. I care very much for him."

Familiar brown eyes looked at her from beneath gray-speckled brows. A smile creased the wrinkles at their corners. "Good. Benjamin needs someone to care for him."

A comfortable silence settled between them as Benjamin"s godfather enjoyed his pipe. The fragrance calmed Jewell and she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Morning sunlight came in through the glass ceiling and bathed her in natural warmth. It seeped into her bones and increased the heavy sensation of lethargy. A long, deep sigh filled Jewell"s chest and drained her limbs with its release. Prescott spoke and brought her back to attention.

"You sign very well. Where did you learn?"

Jewell forced herself to sit up straighter and open her eyes. "At home. My mother is deaf."

He nodded. "Benjamin is very successful in what he does."

Jewell struggled to find a connection in his line of conversation. "Yes, he is."

The man examined his pipe and his forehead furrowed in thought. "He did it all on his own. From day one. Never got an ounce of support from Jon. I"m ashamed of all the years I stood by and let it happen." He looked at her and Jewell saw sadness in his eyes. "I didn"t want to, but I didn"t have much say or influence in the matter. It"s about time someone came along to give Benjamin what he needs."

Jewell sighed and sat forward. "Can I ask you something, Mr. Prescott?"

"Of course."

"You aren"t the first person in Benjamin"s family who has told me he needs love and support and just plain someone. I"ve been told things about his childhood—not from him—that makes me want to cry. Why is it if everyone knows he needs this, Benjamin had to wait until he was thirty-six years old and hired me as his executive assistant before he got it? I don"t mean to sound judgmental, but I don"t understand."

He nodded. "You"re a very perceptive young woman, Jewell. I think if you were to choose one word to describe this family, that word would be denial. Deny the pain and it won"t hurt. Deny the problem and it"ll go away. Better yet, someone else will come along and fix it for you."

The door opened again and Benjamin came into the room. "I found some bagels, muffins, fruit, and juice. Do you want some coffee? I brought that, too." He set an overflowing tray of food down on the table.

Jewell looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I was just having a nice talk with your godfather."

Benjamin turned and saw Mr. Prescott for the first time. He nodded in greeting. "Ben. How is Abigail? Last I heard from her, she was about to graduate from Emerson College."

Ben Prescott nodded. "She"s upset over Victoria, of course. We all are. But other than that, she"s well. I"ll tell her you asked about her. Abigail always looked up to you."

Jewell looked into Prescott"s face. She thought she heard a slight waver in his voice when he spoke of Abigail. Just from the drift of the conversation, Jewell assumed Abigail might be Prescott"s daughter, and probably several years younger than Benjamin.

Benjamin nodded. The small talk ended and an uncomfortable silence settled into the room. In Benjamin"s face, there was little expression, but the other man"s features struggled to hide a wealth of emotion. Prescott pressed his lips together and he finally looked away. That was the extent of the conversation between the two men and Benjamin sat down across from her. Within moments the older man stood and left the room. Jewell watched him go, then turned her attention back to Benjamin.

"Everything looks delicious. I"m starving."

Benjamin set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her along with a gigantic blueberry muffin. Jewell took a small cup of melons and strawberries from the tray. After taking several bites of each, she realized Benjamin wasn"t eating. Self-conscious, Jewell set her fork down.

"You aren"t eating?"

Benjamin lifted his cup of coffee. "This is enough for me. I"m not hungry."

Jewell pushed aside the remains of the muffin. "You said you wanted to talk to me about something."

Benjamin held her gaze and his eyes seemed to grow darker in intensity. A small ‘V' formed above the bridge of his nose. He reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb rubbed in a gentle caress across Jewell"s skin. But Benjamin didn"t speak, didn"t sign. It was a strange silence. The silence of anticipation. A quivering tension fluttered in her stomach.

"Benjamin, what"s wrong?"

He stood abruptly and brought her to her feet. Before Jewell could react or wonder what he was doing, Benjamin pulled her into a firm embrace. His lips covered hers as his fingers tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. Without a moment"s thought to resist him, Jewell returned fully every ounce he gave. The kiss surprised her, but the tumbling butterflies in her stomach rewarded her shock.

Their lips parted, but Benjamin didn"t loosen his hold. Jewell tilted her head to look up into his face. A smile tugged up at the corner of her mouth.

"Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked with a chuckle in her voice.

One corner of his lips curved up and his eyes fixed on her mouth. "Close enough. Thank you for coming here with me."

"You"re welcome, but you don"t need to thank me. I never thought of doing anything else."

Benjamin kissed her again quickly before freeing Jewell from his hold. "You look tired."

As if spurred by his statement, Jewell stifled a yawn behind her fingers. "I guess so."

Benjamin"s fingers touched her cheek. "I have some people I want to see and some things I need to look into. No need for you to come. Why don"t you go back upstairs and lie down?"

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Go on back up and get some rest. I want you bright and chipper this afternoon."

"Oh? Why?"

His smile was wide but lacked its usual depth. Even when they first met, and Jewell hadn"t gotten through his abrasive exterior yet, she saw more animation and personality behind his eyes than she did now. The walls that Benjamin had built in the few short hours since learning of his sister"s shooting were now high and thick. Jewell wondered what it would take to get them down.

"I want to go to the hospital this afternoon."

Jewell nodded, her throat squeezing at the thought of seeing Victoria. If she felt it this deep, it must be nearly smothering for Benjamin. "All right. I"ll go take a small nap. Where can I find you later?"

He kissed her again. "I"ll find you."

* * *

Dillon sat across from Benjamin without speaking. His fingers laced behind his neck, his forehead resting on the green metal table in the tiny interrogation room. The air smelled of stale cigarette smoke and body odor. Benjamin wrinkled his nose at the stench and drummed his fingertips on the cold steel. Dillon"s shoulders rose and fell.

"Talk to me, Dillon," Benjamin said.

Dillon slowly raised his head, his bloodshot gaze meeting Benjamin"s. His upper lip was pulled tight over his teeth, but his chin quivered as tears ran unabated down his cheeks. His hands curled and opened in tight fists.

"Why are you here, Ben?" he asked. "Do you want me to confess? To say I shot her? Your father"s lawyer has already been here, and I wouldn"t admit it to him. Why should I to you?"

Benjamin shook his head. "I"m here because George asked me to come. He wants you to tell me what happened."

Dillon slammed his fist on the table, the shock vibrating through Benjamin"s hands, and he jumped to his feet. "I didn"t shoot her. God, she"s my life!" The force of his shouting reverberated in the air.

Benjamin fought fiercely against the hard, unforgiving lump in his throat. There was no way he would let the raw ferociousness of his emotions get to him here. Not now. Not until he knew Dillon"s version of the truth.

"Dillon, you know me well enough to know that I would not be here on my father"s behalf. I need to know what happened."

Dillon shoved his fingers through his hair before sitting down again. Perspiration glistened on his forehead and he wrung his hands together as if trying to remove a smudge or stain.

"Victoria called me Friday morning from the road. She told me she"d decided to leave your father"s house for good. She wanted to be with me, no matter what, and prayed your father would eventually accept it. She told me to come to the house and pick her up.

"But when I got there, your father was in a rage. I heard him screaming from his den, then I heard Victoria"s voice. I ran in and they were arguing. He had her arm and she was fighting to get away from him. I jumped in."

"Had he been drinking?" Benjamin asked.

Dillon nodded. "I would say yes. There was a broken bottle of scotch on the rug, so the room reeked of it. His speech was slurred and his eyes were bloodshot."

"What was he saying?"

"That he wouldn"t let her leave. Wouldn"t let her destroy her life by marrying me."

Benjamin ran his palm over his face. He could almost see the scene play out in his mind. It all sounded so typical of Jon Roth. Memories of his adolescence and teen years flashed in his mind.

"I stepped in—fought him to release her. He let go and we started to leave. Then your father yelled out and I heard the click of a gun."

Dillon pressed his eyes closed, tears pressing out. His face twisted with anguish. Benjamin"s chest squeezed tight and it was hard to take in a deep breath. His throat burned.

"Did you fight him with the gun? Is that how it went off?"

Dillon slowly nodded his head. The pained expression that twisted his face made it hard for Benjamin to read his lips. He had to ask Dillon to say it again. The man who could have been his brother-in-law wiped his hand over his face, attempting to dry his cheeks. He took a deep breath and shoved his fingers through his hair.

"I shoved Victoria behind me and told her to get out. Jon was waving the gun around. I don"t remember most of what he said, but I tried to reason with him. The gun went off once and hit the wall behind our heads.

"Jon was crazy," he continued to explain, his head moving slowly side to side and his eyes distant. "I had seen him angry before. Like the day he found out about us. But I never imagined anything like this."

Dillon took a moment to sip at the cup of coffee Benjamin had brought him. It had to be only lukewarm at best and was from the stained pot in the officer"s bullpen, so Benjamin imagined it was bitter and tasted like something akin to tar. The grimace on Dillon"s face confirmed it.

"My father can be a violent man. But Dillon?—"

"Violent doesn"t begin to describe him," Dillon insisted, raising his hand to stop Benjamin mid-sentence. "I tried to get Victoria out of the room. I was pushing her toward the door. That was when Jon said he"d see me dead before he allowed her to be with me.

"He lunged at me and grabbed my arm, trying to keep me from leaving. I grabbed his wrist and tried to push his arm down. Victoria tried to push us apart—then the gun fired."

Dillon stopped, covering his face with his hands.

"Dillon," Benjamin snapped.

Dillon dropped his shaking hands, his lips trembling so hard Benjamin had to stare at him to make out the words. Tears dripped from the man"s nose. "I didn"t know she was hit until she…she…she fell."

Benjamin only caught bits and pieces of the rest of the story. Unshed tears blurred his vision. Dillon was so distraught he often looked away and Benjamin couldn"t see his lips. What he caught was horrible. Victoria fell to the floor. He held her while her blood seeped into his clothing and the rug beneath them. Jon tried to push him away until they were both covered in her blood. People came in, but Dillon didn"t know who. Didn"t care. He just held Victoria until the paramedics pried her body from his arms. Then the police took him into custody and later read him his rights and put him under arrest.

Benjamin swallowed against the lump that filled his throat. He almost wished for a cup of bitter coffee.

Now that he knew the truth, how could he go back to that house? Face his father. He had no doubt this was the truth. Everything Dillon described sounded like actions Jon Roth would be fully capable of doing. But how could Benjamin face the man without wanting to squeeze the life from his murderous heart? How could he look into the face of the man who fathered him, and not see a demon? A greater beast than he had ever known?

Somehow, he would find a way. Until he could prove his father as the violent bastard he was.