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 anything wrong but that the police were always after him.”

“Why did they arrest him? What were the charges?”

He shook his head vaguely. “Lots of things. Selling drugs, stealing stuff, hitting the woman who rented us the apartment. But he told the police he didn’t do any of it. That it was all lies.”

“And you think he was telling the truth?”

He looked away. “I wanted to believe it. Our landlady was a nice woman. She hurt herself bad when she fell down the stairs. I went to the hospital to see her.”

“Was she angry?”

“No. She cried. She told me to run away.”

“And did you do it?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave my father. He needed me. He said it was a son’s duty to take care of his father. He wasn’t well and couldn’t work. But I was strong.”

And the leech had fastened onto the kid and hadn’t let go.

“Then how did you end up here?”

“They took him away and put him in jail. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so my landlady found this place. Mr. Daltrop said I could stay for a little while.” He smiled. “That was eight months ago.”

“Evidently, you earned a place for yourself if you managed to stay this long.”

“They think I’m smart, that I do a good job. They like me here. Everyone likes me.”

An entry.

“Did Ted Danner like you?”

His smile faded. “Yes.”

Back off a little. “Why do you think that?”

“He would come to my tent and talk to me. He taught me how to play checkers. He had a big knife, and he’d take me into the woods and show me how good he could throw it. Sometimes, he’d let me go with him when he camped out.”

Yes.

“Where was that? Where did he go?”

Ben moistened his lips but didn’t reply.

It would have been too great a piece of luck if Ben had answered that question, Joe thought. “What did he talk about?”

He frowned. “Just stuff.”

“Not people?”

“He talked about John. He liked him a lot. I think he was a relation.” He stopped, troubled. “I don’t want to talk about Ted. Do I have to do it? Will you arrest me if I don’t?”

Say the words, and he’d get what he wanted. The boy would probably believe him.

“No, I won’t arrest you. But why don’t you want to talk about him? He seems to have been very nice to you.”

He didn’t answer.

“Why, Ben?”

“He told me not to talk about him,” he said in a low voice. “Before he left, he told me that I mustn’t tell anyone anything about— He told me not to say anything. So I can’t do it even if you put me in jail.”

Don’t tense. Don’t show any sign of the excitement that was beginning to grip him, or the boy would sense it. “I’ve told you that I won’t put you in jail. I just wonder why he wouldn’t want you to talk about him when you said he was such a good man. Did he do something wrong?”

“No.” He jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want you to go away.”

“Joe,” Father Barnabas said.

He was afraid Joe was going to browbeat the kid. He had to admit that he was tempted. The stakes were too high and the time too short.

He couldn’t do it, not if there was any other way.

“I can’t go away,” he told Ben. “I have to stay until you decide to answer my questions. If I don’t, then someone I love very much could get hurt. Your friend might hurt her.”

“Ted? Ted wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t try to hurt him.”

Joe jumped on that last sentence. “And did you see him hurt someone who did try to hurt him? Is that what you can’t tell anyone?”

“I didn’t say that.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re trying to trick me.”

Joe drew a deep breath. “Listen carefully, Ben. You don’t believe your friend, Ted, could hurt anyone. You may be right, but sometimes people can be kind to some people and unkind to others. Particularly if they’re sick inside. One minute they seem okay, then the anger comes.”

Ben nodded. “Like my dad.”

The boy had completely leapfrogged the explanation Joe had been trying to make. Try to bring him back around. “Was your father like that, too? Like Ted?”

“No, not like Ted. Ted never hurt me. Ted said my dad didn’t have a right to hurt me. He said he wouldn’t let him do it again.”

He stiffened. “Wait a minute. Danner knew your father?”

“No, he only said that when I told him my dad was on his way here to take me away from the camp. He’d gotten out of jail and wanted me to go back and help him.”

“But how would Danner stop him?”

Ben shook his head. “He said he’d tell him to go away.”

“And that would do it? I don’t think so.”

“You’re wrong. My dad never came to see me here. Ted met him before he got here and made him change his mind. He made him go away.”

Joe and Father Barnabas exchanged glances.

“Have you heard from your father since then?” Joe asked.

He shook his head. “But he might come back now that Ted has gone away.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that happening,” Joe said. He would leave it at that. The kid’s father was obviously a bastard who would use and abuse a boy like Ben, but the kid didn’t need to be made to feel any guilt about what had probably happened to him. “I think Danner probably frightened him away. That’s what I was trying to tell you about your friend, Ted. Sometimes, he can frighten people. If he frightened my Eve, she might try to run away and hurt herself. Some people deserve to be frightened, but not Eve. We have to find her and make sure that Danner doesn’t do anything to cause anything bad to happen to her.”