Too Close to Home Read online

  Narrowing his gaze, he tilted his head. “Trust me, it’s a big deal.” He jerked his chin toward the desk. “Being the true gentleman I am, I thought I’d let you get settled first.”

  Kathryn arched one of her perfectly manicured brows. “A true gentleman? Is that why you refused to meet with me and the lawyers?”

  Benjamin leaned back in his chair. “When George Nowak makes up his mind, who am I to argue?” What good would it do anyway? The man was dead.

  My father is dead. An unexpected fist of grief sucker punched him. Benjamin had gotten good at compartmentalizing things and didn’t expect such a strong emotion when discussing his father’s business dealings.

  “We needed to talk about a business arrangement.” An angry spark flashed in Kathryn’s clear blue eyes.

  He shrugged. “What arrangement? George leaves you half the plant. You come to work here. Simple, huh?”

  She blinked her eyes a few times. “Listen, I have—”

  A shrill, intermittent alarm cut off Kathryn midsentence. Benjamin sprang to his feet and reached the large window overlooking the plant floor in two long strides. The harsh tones of the horns mounted outside the office pierced his eardrums.

  “What the…?” A red light flashed next to the chromate wash, a process that coated the radiator cores to prevent them from rusting. The core-filled carriers swayed in place, the motion, no doubt, from the overhead conveyor’s abrupt stop.

  Benjamin froze, all his senses on high alert. The stilled conveyor didn’t concern him as much as the alarm. It signaled the in-house rescue squad. The first time he had heard the alarm he’d been a teenager filling in on the assembly line. Some careless operator had reached into a press and lost a few digits. Fool could have lost his entire hand.

  Remembering the bloody mess, he lifted his palm. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  Benjamin descended the stairs two at a time, his right hand skimming the railing. He arrived at the wash just as Peter Hill, the plant manager, did.

  “What’s going on?” Benjamin hollered over the strident noise of the alarm. He scanned the wash process and farther down the line until he noticed two men frantically trying to free the conveyor.

  “Peter, call 9-1-1.”

  “Done.”

  Benjamin swallowed hard, tamping down the nausea clawing at his throat. He covered three metal stairs to the platform in one step. When he reached the two men, their shirts and hair were soaked. Their faces were strained and terror stricken.

  Benjamin moved next to them. The horror of the situation hit him. A leg. Jean-clad. Sticking out of the wash. What the…? He grabbed hold of the icy-cold limb and pulled.

  “Pull,” he yelled, his voice tight as he tried to contain his growing panic. “Pull!” The men yanked on the soaking pants, each struggling for a firmer grasp.

  Benjamin glanced up. The carrier attached to the overhead conveyor rail had pinned the man’s torso against the side of the tank. The victim’s head was submerged in poisonous chemicals.

  Benjamin let go of the waterlogged pant leg. He had to try something else. He yanked at the chain holding the carrier in place. As each second passed, he knew his greatest fears would be realized. The carrier didn’t budge.

  He frantically hollered, “We need help. Pull,” he shouted to the two men. “Pull.” Benjamin struggled to push the carrier out of the way as the two men continued their desperate attempt to free the trapped man. The carrier lurched forward. Benjamin grabbed the side of the tank. Losing his balance, he bit back a curse. He caught himself on the edge of the tank. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He had nearly landed on top of the man. The body.

  “How long has he been down there?” Benjamin’s mind raced. He had to free this guy. He had been under for too long.

  “Stop, stop,” someone yelled. Benjamin kept working, his breathing labored.

  Two strong hands clutched his shoulders. Yanked him back. He swung around, fist ready. Peter stood with his hands in a surrender gesture.

  “Move out of the way. The rescue squad is here.” Peter directed him off the platform as two firefighters in full gear moved toward the tank.

  Relegated to bystander, Benjamin leaned forward and braced his hands on his thighs, his chest heaving from the exertion. What in the world happened?

  The high-pitched whir of a power tool filled the air. The firefighters cut through the metal of the jammed carrier. Benjamin straightened and plucked his wet shirt away from his skin. Maybe now they can help the poor guy. His brain was so fried he couldn’t think who was scheduled to work at that station this morning.

  He scanned the area looking for Bill Summers, the supervisor of the department, when he noticed Kathryn, her stride graceful. Barefoot, she had the straps of her shoes laced in her slender fingers. She radiated a certain vulnerability. Her pale, smooth skin set off her wary blue eyes, mirroring the fear in his gut. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going home tonight.

  “What’s going on?” Kathryn’s voice shook. She placed her warm hand on his wet forearm, an unexpected connection.

  Benjamin shoved a hand through his damp hair. “Someone fell into the wash tank on line one.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact. Professional. But he was about to lose it. “The firefighters will get him out.”

  “They will, they will,” Kathryn whispered, her voice not far from his ear, her warm hand still resting on his forearm. The simple touch grounded him.

  The commotion moved toward them. One firefighter had his arms hooked under the man’s armpits, a second held him around his knees. They had freed the man. Thank God. But Benjamin still couldn’t see who he was.

  The firefighters laid the victim on a stretcher and worked on him as they raced to a back exit where an ambulance waited.

  Benjamin stood, frozen in place.

  “Who…?” Kathryn’s whisper was hoarse. She lifted her watery eyes, met his, shared an unspoken pain.

  One of the workers who had been trying to free the victim before Benjamin arrived handed him a company ID tag. “It was on the floor.” Without another word, the man turned and shuffled away.

  Benjamin waited a split second. Drawing a deep breath, he looked down. A friend stared up at him. He ran his thumb across the image. His heart plummeted and he dropped his arm.

  Kathryn slid the ID from his fingers and studied the photo. The color drained from her cheeks. Her empty hand flew to her mouth. “I talked to Johnny this morning.”

  Chapter Two

  “You’ll have to step back, ma’am.”

  Kathryn snapped out of her trance. An employee in a blue work coat rounded the support column and trudged back toward the wash, wrapping the area in caution tape. Unsure of how long she had been standing there, she glanced around for Benjamin.

  Leaning against a pole, an employee fingered his reddish-brown goatee and hitched his chin toward the accident scene. “Man—” he let out a breath between tight lips, “—tragic about the dude in there.” A hint of sarcasm laced his voice. Or maybe, in her shock, she misread him.

  The man pushed off the column, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket and tapped one out. He raised a brow and smacked his lips. “This calls for a cigarette break.” Placing the unlit cigarette between his lips, he disappeared toward the back door.

  Unsettled from the exchange, she rubbed her arms for warmth. Her unease turned to relief when she noticed Benjamin striding toward her from the other side of the department, exuding an air of authority. When she caught sight of the grim expression on his handsome features, her blood ran cold.

  “Come on.” He cupped her elbow. The gooseflesh racing up her arm had nothing to do with the temperature of his hand. “There’s nothing left to do… Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Johnny’s dead, isn’t he?” Kathryn’s thundering heart drowned out her words. More than anything, she wanted him to deny it. Instead, Benjamin slowed his pace and turned to face her, allowing her to find the answer in his pained
features.

  “One of the firefighters called from the hospital.” He slowly drew his hand across his chin. “He’s gone.”

  Pressing a hand to her mouth, she grew lightheaded. “How did this happen?”

  Benjamin shook his head. She understood he didn’t have an answer, not one that made sense anyway.

  Peter approached them, his ruddy complexion more pronounced than earlier. “He removed the safety guard. He removed the safety guard.” The words rushed out as he fought to catch his breath. He pushed a shaky hand through thinning hair. “Why in the world would he do that again?”

  “Again?” Benjamin’s eyes narrowed.

  Peter’s features grew pinched and he shook his head. He flicked a glance in Kathryn’s direction. “During training I caught him pulling the safety guard off. I told him to put it back. Not to do it again.” He patted his breast pocket, then ran his hand down the front of his dress shirt.

  “Why would he do that?” The reality sank in and Kathryn’s knees grew weak. “Why would he risk his life?”

  “Some of the guys think if they bypass the safety guards, the job will be easier,” Peter explained, shaking his head in obvious frustration.

  “I did a tour of the department this morning. Everything was in place.” Benjamin scrubbed a hand across his face.

  Peter scanned the area and gestured with his hand to another man.

  “You should have never let this happen. You’re the supervisor of this department. You have to be on these guys all the time.” Peter jabbed his index finger inches away from the man’s grief-stricken face. Kathryn’s gaze slid to the name embroidered on his blue coat. Bill Summers.

  Bill visibly paled. “Don’t pin this on me.”

  Peter waved his hand in dismissal.

  Kathryn understood Peter’s anger, even if she didn’t agree with his actions. As plant manager and the health and safety representative, his head was on the chopping block. But as co-owner, so was hers. A killer headache throbbed behind her eyes.

  Behind wire glasses, Bill’s eyes flashed anger. “Short of babysitting, there’s not much more I can do. I did my job.” He ran his hand across his military-style buzz cut. His eyes grew weary. “He’s got a wife and baby on the way.” Shaking his head, Bill stalked off and directed the gathering crowd to back off.

  A wife and baby? The baby would never know its father. She willed her nausea back. Why had Johnny invited her for coffee? Her mind swirled with grief and confusion. Nothing made sense.

  “What was Johnny’s job?” Kathryn focused on details, trying to stay calm. She had faced worse, much worse in her lifetime. She could handle this.

  “An inspector of sorts,” Benjamin said. “He’s supposed to watch the back end of the overhead conveyor and make sure the cores are in the center of each carrier.” Looking toward the wash, he continued, “His workstation is behind the large tank. No one saw what happened.”

  The pounding in Kathryn’s head grew more intense. She rubbed her temples. The whole process seemed antiquated. This factory was a dinosaur. Why had the Nowak family run it into the ground over the past decade?

  She cut a sideways glance to Peter. A muscle in his jaw twitched under her scrutiny. Not only was he the plant manager, but he was Benjamin’s uncle. She had known him a long time. He drew himself up, but even then, he stood an inch or two shorter than Kathryn, not that she was particularly tall.

  “The carrier probably shifted after he fell in, pinning him against the wall of the tank.” Benjamin seemed to flinch at the idea. “The safety guards were designed to prevent this kind of accident.”

  The image of Johnny head first in the wash—gulping chemicals and struggling for air—was etched in her mind. The walls of the vast manufacturing facility seemed to close in around her. Her cheeks grew flushed.

  “Have the police been notified?” Kathryn said.

  “Officer Gavin is on his way.” A frown tugged at the corners of Peter’s mouth. Kathryn stiffened at the mention of the officer.

  “Not one of my favorites either.” Peter apparently sensed her apprehension. “He’s got his nose into everything. Moonlights security here every so often and thinks he’s chief of police.” Displeasure underscored each word. “He’s already in the complex picking up his paycheck or something. He’ll be here shortly.”

  “The police’s involvement should be minimal.” Uncertainty edged Benjamin’s voice. “I’ll call OSHA.”

  Peter scratched his head. “Any fool will see this was an industrial accident. Nothing criminal,” he mumbled under his breath. “OSHA’s going to have a field day with this.” Taut veins popped out on his neck. “Look at those rubberneckers. Bill still hasn’t cleared the area.”

  Agitated, Peter strode off to help Bill manage the growing crowd. Benjamin placed his hand on the small of Kathryn’s back. The firmness of his touch made her feel protected. Comforted. Extremely sad.

  Someone to protect me. It was just an illusion.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Benjamin whispered, his breath skimming her cheek as a tangle of emotions she didn’t dare unravel crowded her soul.

  That evening, Kathryn parked her silver sports car in front of the garage of her mother’s house. My childhood home. A rusted basketball hoop mounted above the garage door had seen better days. The net hung literally by a thread. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. It seemed like only yesterday her father had lovingly installed the lily-white net on the hoop, undaunted by the fact that he was a father of two girls who mostly liked dance and dress-up. They never did play one-on-one, but many evenings were filled by a rousing game of horse. She ran her fingers underneath her eyes, hoping her mascara hadn’t smudged.

  Kathryn shoved away the memory of her father with his white dress-shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dribbling the basketball. She pushed open the car door. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the house and yard in long shadows. A shiver coursed down her spine. Keys gripped tightly in hand, she crossed the driveway to the side door. She avoided looking toward the backyard and the gardening shed.

  Kathryn turned the lock and pushed open the door. When she was growing up her family had never bothered to lock the doors. She stepped into the small entryway with its cracked linoleum. She made a sharp left and ascended two stairs to her mother’s small kitchen. Her mother, Sandy, pulled the whistling kettle off the stove. Without saying a word, Kathryn slipped into a chair—her assigned seat from the time she was a child.

  “Hi, Mom.” Her entire body relaxed. She rested her elbows on the table and let her eyes drift closed. She inhaled the scent of lemon and mothballs. It was a strange combination, but familiar. Her mother loved lemon in her tea and mothballs in the back coat closet.

  “I made you tea.” Her mother set a cup in front of her. Kathryn wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug. A white puff of steam rose from the liquid’s surface. Hot tea. Mom’s answer to all of life’s problems. Lifting the cup to her lips, she drew in a deep breath. Orange pekoe. She smiled.

  Her mother fixed a plate of cookies and sat across from her. Apparently sensing her mood, her mother waited a long time before speaking. “How are you?”

  Kathryn studied the floral pattern on her mug. Her mother’s compassion chipped away at her guard like nothing else.

  Kathryn lifted her gaze. “You heard about Johnny Beck?”

  Sandy nodded. “At the market. They said he was in some kind of accident.”

  “Yes.” She avoided the details. She doubted her mother wanted to hear them anyway. “I feel awful.”

  Sandy reached across the table and placed her warm hand over Kathryn’s. “Of course you do. You have a kind heart.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

  Kathryn closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. “I know.” Yet hopelessness left her feeling empty.

  Sandy patted her hand. Kathryn opened her eyes and forced a tight smile. Her throat narrowed, the grief leaving her unable to speak. She glance
d around the kitchen. The lime green, plaid wallpaper and matching countertops were as dated as the small framed photos hanging in the breakfast nook where they sat. A photo of her and her sister caught her eye. She and Betsy had their arms around each other with huge smiles on their faces. Their smiles were uncomplicated, sincere. Smiles only children could have. The kitchen was a time capsule of a happier world.

  Kathryn traced the dings and dents on the surface of the table. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s expectant face. “Mom, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do what, honey?”

  “Go back to Midport Industries.” She lifted her palms. “Stay in this town even for a short time. It’s too hard.” Her words tumbled out as she struggled with her emotions. She had wanted to share her concerns for weeks—ever since she had discovered George Nowak, Benjamin’s father, had bequeathed her half ownership of Midport Industries. It had come as a complete shock, but her lawyer had assured her it was legitimate.

  “You’ve never run away from a challenge.” Her mother took a sip of her tea.

  I ran away ten years ago after Dad’s death. Remember that, Mom? Kathryn couldn’t put voice to the words. Dad’s death wasn’t something they talked about. Unfortunately, that pain precluded talking much about his life either. That’s why her mother’s next words surprised Kathryn.

  “You’re an engineer. Like him.” Her voice broke over a sob. “He dreamed of this.” Her mother’s cheeks burned bright as she stood up and adjusted the dishtowel hanging from the handle of the oven door. “Your dad would have been so proud of you.”

  Kathryn wanted so much to believe her mother’s words.

  Sandy lifted her shiny eyes to her daughter’s. “I think George finally realized Midport Industries wouldn’t be what it is today without your father’s patent. This inheritance is his way of making up for cutting out your father.”

  Kathryn’s gaze fell to the worn linoleum. The pain in her mother’s eyes was too much to bear. That same pain had made her vow to never let any man get too close. She would never give anyone the power to bring her to her knees as her father had done to her mother.