Bonnie - Iris Johansen [85]
“No, but you could be impatient. According to Max, Ben is kind of special. He doesn’t want him hurt. Ben’s had a rough enough life. His father is a thief and a drug runner who is in jail right now for hitting his landlady and knocking her down a flight of stairs. Ben tried to stop him and ended up at the bottom of the stairs, too. The father has a record a mile long and evidently only kept Ben with him to get welfare payments. The state took Ben away from him twice, citing abuse, but let him go back. Our wonderful DEFACS wanting to give a parent every break. Even when it breaks the kid.” He turned and headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you after you finish with Kimble and Selznik. I believe they’re in the mess tent.” The next moment, he’d left the office and was striding toward the tents.
Joe didn’t move from the window, watching him as he reached a large tent on the perimeter and squatted beside a slim, sandy-haired young man sitting on a camp stool. The boy’s fingers were flying over a leather belt, and he looked up with a smile as Father Barnabas began to speak to him.
Special, the priest had called him. Perhaps in more ways than one. That smile was joyously luminous and touched his face with a radiant gentleness. There was something vaguely familiar about that smile.…
Then it came to him. It was reminiscent of the sketch of Bonnie that Eve had drawn and hung in the hallway of the house on Brookside. Strange that this boy would remind him of Bonnie.
Perhaps not so strange. This boy, too, had been captured in forever childhood.
He tore his gaze away and headed for the door. He was wasting time standing here staring at the kid, but there was something about him that had riveted him. Forget it. Ben Hudson seemed to be talking to the priest, and Joe should be heading toward the mess tent. He’d probably make much more progress questioning the two supervisors about Ted Danner.
And perhaps a few questions about Ben Hudson.…
* * *
HE CALLED FATHER BARNABAS over an hour later. “I’m coming up with nothing. Neither of the supervisors had much to do with Danner. They both said that he was a loner and didn’t encourage company. They remembered he would go away almost every weekend, but they assumed he just liked camping. What about you? Did Hudson know anything?”
He hesitated. “Maybe. I’m not sure. The kid is willing to talk about Ted Danner. He said that Ted is his best friend. It’s clear he cares for him.”
“Then if he’ll talk, what’s the problem?”
“He talks about how Danner taught him to make leather vests as well as the belts. He tells me how Danner played cards with him every night. Not what we want.”
“What about Danner’s weekend trips?”
“He says he doesn’t remember. He freezes up.”
“Then he knows something.”
“Maybe he doesn’t remember.”
“And maybe he does. I’ll be over there in five minutes to question him.”
“I’m staying while you do it,” the priest said quietly.
“I’m not arguing.” His tone became mocking. “Maybe we can play good cop, bad cop.”
“No bad cop. Not with this kid.”
“That would be your answer regardless. I’ll see you.” He hung up. He could feel a tingle of excitement as he headed for the door of the mess. It might be a mistake to feel any stirring of hope. This was a special kid, and he might only be confused.
But his every instinct was humming.
* * *
BEN HUDSON WAS INDEED a special kid, and he was not confused.
Joe knew from the moment that the boy looked at him after the priest’s introduction that there was not confusion but a simple, almost pure, clarity about Ben Hudson. The impression was largely due to Ben’s wide-set blue eyes and that smile, which seemed to hold a kind of joyous wonder.
“I’m very glad to meet you, Ben,” Joe said quietly. “I won’t take very much of your time, but I have to have some questions answered. You know I’m a detective?”
Ben nodded tentatively. “Father Barnabas told me. That means you’re with the police. Are you going to put me in jail?”
“Why would I do that? Have you done something wrong?”
“I don’t think so. But my father used to say that he never did