The Hunt For Hawke's Daughter
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What was he afraid of? she wondered. A closeness that might jeopardize some promise he’d made to himself?
“When all this is over,” he went on, “we go our separate ways, you here in the Twin Cities and me back in Denver. Understood?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good.” Wearing a scowl, he glanced around the kitchen while mopping at his brow with the back of his hand. “And if I’m going to spend any time at all in this house, I have another request.”
“What is it?”
“Get your damn air-conditioning fixed. And in the meantime, let’s get out of here and find someplace reasonably cool while you fill me in on the essentials.”
THE SPOT Devlin chose for their conversation was one of the most pleasant in the Twin Cities. Standing side by side at the railing of a paddle wheel boat that cruised up and down a brief stretch of the Mississippi, with Minneapolis on one shore and St. Paul on the other, they watched the scene slide by.
Twilight was stealing over the river, bringing with it a cool breeze. Lights began to wink in the high-rises massed against the pearly sky. The riverbanks were popular in summer, teeming with couples strolling arm in arm, teenagers in-line skating, families dining at outdoor cafes.
It was a serene setting, almost magical in its mood. And Karen found it deeply frustrating, even painful. There were young children among the crowds, safe in the company of their parents. Watching them, she could think of nothing but Livie who might be anything but secure at this moment.
Why were they here on this silly boat? Why weren’t they searching for Livie? Karen felt a desperate need for action, and Devlin sensed it.
“Easy,” he said in a soothing voice.
And that was another thing. His closeness was disturbing. She was too aware of his warm, intimidating bulk as his shoulder grazed hers. She preferred him as he’d been back at the house, brusque and remote, not trying to comfort her like this.
“I can guess what you’re feeling,” he said, “but we have to talk. I have to have some answers before I can decide where to begin.”
Conceding the necessity for that, Karen relaxed. “What do you need to know?”
“As much as you can tell me about Michael Ramey. Start with how you met him.”
“It was nothing out of the ordinary. We were both taking this evening course on financial investments. He asked me out for coffee one night after class.”
“And you went.”
“Why not? He was very pleasant, attractive. And, like me, he was unattached. He had no family at all, so we had that in common. He said he was just out of a long relationship, but he didn’t like to talk about it.”
“So you started to date.”
“That’s right. Sometimes Livie would go with us. He was very good with her, and that was important to me. It was all very conventional.”
“Including the marriage that followed, huh?”
“I suppose so.”
“What else? What about his hobbies, his interests?”
“His business seemed to take up a lot of his time. He did play golf sometimes.”
“How about friends?”
“There’s no one special.”
“Connections from his past?”
She shook her head.
Devlin pushed away from the rail and turned to gaze at her, his expression accusing. “You don’t know a whole lot about this guy you married and lived with, do you?”
“I knew what counted,” she said defensively. “That he loved Livie and me and that he offered us security.”
She turned away from the look in his eyes and stared out at the lighted shore, listening to the sound of the paddle wheel churning the waters, smelling the aromas of the river. After a moment she stirred restlessly.
“All right,” she admitted, “I was vulnerable, and I suppose that made me blind. Michael was so pleased about the marriage, about getting a wife and a daughter at the same time. I wanted to believe he was everything he seemed to be, because I needed to be—”
“What?”
“Safe,” she whispered.
Which, Karen thought unhappily, is exactly what I went and convinced myself Michael was. Safe, dependable. And because I trusted him, I very foolishly didn’t ask questions. What have you been hiding from me, Michael? What awful secret are you protecting?
Devlin, recognizing her fear, offered a comforting, “Being a bigamist doesn’t necessarily make him dangerous, Karen. Although…”
“What?”
“Why commit bigamy at all? Doesn’t make sense in this situation. I mean, if a guy risks having two wives at once, it’s because he manages somehow to shuttle back and forth between them. But in Ramey’s case he walks away completely from the first wife before he goes on to acquire the second one. Why didn’t he just divorce the first wife and save himself the threat of jail? And if he is going on to a third identity…”
“Why take Livie along? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it, Devlin? Why have Livie with him when she’d only complicate his new life?”
“Yeah, it always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Which means we have to try to figure out that why, because without it we may never learn the where.” It was Devlin’s turn then to express a sudden restlessness. “Let’s get off this boat. I need to stretch my legs.”
The vessel made regular stops along the river, discharging passengers and picking up new ones. Several moments later, its whistle tooting, it pulled into another landing. Karen and Devlin went ashore and began to stroll along the broad, tree-lined river walk with its busy bars and boutiques.
Devlin was silent as they walked. She assumed he was busy sifting through what little information she had been able to provide, putting it all in some kind of order. Karen knew he was very good at what he did. He had described some of his cases to her back in Colorado. Like everyone else in the family firm, he had a specialty. The other members of the Hawke Detective Agency consulted him in that area whenever necessary, just as he drew on their particular skills. Devlin excelled in finding missing persons. Karen was counting on that talent.