Or show him that she was already vulnerable.
“Then we understand each other.”
“Yes.” He was suddenly turning her to face him. “Sometimes, I understand you, Catherine.” His fingers gently traced the line of her cheekbone. “It’s not easy. You’re as complicated as Chinese cybercode. But when we keep it basic, I get a glimmer…” He was touching her lips with his forefinger. “And it makes me want to go deeper.”
She should break away. This wasn’t the time or the place. Neither of them wanted this to happen. The emotion had whirled into being like a tornado touching down out of a still sky.
She didn’t break away.
His fingers were warm, smooth, but she could sense the strength he was restraining. The knowledge of what lay behind that gentleness was erotic. Light and dark. Velvet and knife-edge. Lord, he was a fascinating man. The faint dent in his chin, his dark eyes fixed intently on her face, his well-shaped mouth, full and sensual. Stunning, perfectly stunning. Good looks rarely impressed Catherine, but Gallo was … unusual. He radiated a male sensuality so strong that it almost obscured the other, more conventional, elements. It made her want to reach out and touch him, get closer, absorb the scent of him, rub against him like an animal in heat. She could feel the pulse in the hollow of her throat begin to pound. Her cheek where he’d touched it was tingling with heat.
“I’d like to understand more,” he said softly. “I’d like to explore…” Then he shook his head, and his hand dropped to his side. “Stay out of it, Catherine. Stay away from me. You’ll be better off on both counts.”
The abruptness of his withdrawal jarred her. It was right, but it should have been she who made that move. It only emphasized the vulnerability that she was always on guard against. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea either.” She took a step back. “But I choose what’s good for me, Gallo.” Dammit, her body still felt flushed, tingling, ready. And it had only taken a touch. The realization annoyed and bewildered her. What the hell was this yen that she had for Gallo?
She turned her back on him. “And I may choose to let you stumble around and get your throat cut. I’ll have to take it under consideration.”
* * *
“HE’S HEADING IN THIS general direction.” Joe turned to the priest as he hung up the phone. “But Catherine says he’s smart, and it’s going to be difficult. She’ll let us know if he veers off in another direction as he approaches this area.” He looked out the window of the office at the grounds that contained neat rows of tents and project areas that were teeming with teenage boys and girls. “But I may have to take off and join them if we don’t get a lead here. This has proved a zero so far.”
“We have a few more counselors to question,” Father Barnabas said. “I told you that we wouldn’t get much more help from the administrator.”
And he had been correct. Max Daltrop had been pleasant, busy, and noncommittal, with the emphasis on busy. He had said that he had barely known Ted Danner but that he’d had good reports on him from the supervisors. Then he’d hesitated before requesting that they be careful about leaking any information about an alleged criminal who had acted as a counselor here. Joe couldn’t blame him. As far as he could tell, this camp did good work, and all it would take would be a hint of scandal to have a rush of bureaucrats pouring in to investigate closing it.
The priest’s gaze was on Joe’s face. “Max is a good man. He’s trying to cooperate.”
“I know. I won’t cause him any trouble unless I have to do it.” He looked down at his list. “We have three names left. Two supervisors, Bob Kimble, Dory Selznik, and a counselor, Ben Hudson.”
“Suppose you take Kimble and Selznik, and I’ll take the counselor, Ben Hudson. I believe that might be the most efficient path.”
“Why? Any reason?”
“Ben Hudson is twenty but has the mental capacity of a child of ten. I have the background to deal with him.”
“Ten? And he’s a counselor here?”
“Why not? A job makes any man feel worthwhile. Max put him in charge of teaching weaving and leather crafts. He’s almost an expert at it, and he does a good job of showing the kids how to do it.”
“And why does Daltrop think that we could get any information out of him? It doesn’t seem likely.”
“You never know. Danner spent a lot of time with him while he was working here. The kid trailed around the camp behind him like a puppy dog.”
Joe stiffened. “He did? Then that might mean he trailed him outside the camp.”
“And it might not. Max thought that it could be possible. But he asked me to do the questioning.”
Joe’s lips twisted. “Because he didn’t want me to be rough on one of his protégés? I’m not that much of a hard-ass. I don’t target problem kids.”
“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.