Chapter Nine
Canned laughter rose from the television as the actors in the sitcom delivered lines that were lost on Ben.
Though no guests were in the rooms on either side of him, he kept the volume at a decibel level that broke the quiet in his room without being disruptive or distracting.
He’d stopped trying to watch the show hours ago, instead lying on the bed, with his legs crossed at the ankles and one folded arm on a pillow supporting his head.
His gaze fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts whirling at a dizzying speed.
He should be sleeping. His workday would start soon, and his body felt fatigued.
But his brain refused to rest. He relived his time with Charlotte, relishing the moments when she smiled, when she laughed, when she spoke in a soft, husky tone, or when her eyes shifted from smoky gray to the bright blue that he figured out appeared when she was happy.
Then he questioned other moments when he may have shared too much. Was it too soon to tell her he wanted to get to know her better and spend more time with her? Was it the wrong time to tell her she could count on him to help her out of whatever trouble she was in or with the secrets she kept?
He may have been insecure around girls as a teenager, but as an adult, Ben had never questioned himself when it came to women.
He knew what persona to wear. He knew how to read them and know what they wanted, what they expected from him.
He assumed the role they needed him to play until it was time to move on.
Doubts were never a factor in his relationships.
Until Charlotte.
He knew very little about her, but something felt so familiar when he was with her.
He once read a book that described two strangers who believed they knew each other in a former life because their connection was so strong.
Ben didn’t believe in reincarnation and all of that, but he believed some unknown force pulled him to Charlotte.
The universe might be telling him he was meant to be with her.
Maybe the universe knew she needed his help, and Ben could admit he had a special place in his heart for “damsels in distress” as his family referred to them.
But though he wanted to be there for Charlotte if she did indeed need help — and he would bet good money she did — he wanted more than that.
He wanted to date her, to have more opportunities to kiss her or hold her.
He wanted to build memories with her. The strength of his desire for her surprised him.
He hadn’t expected to meet someone like her while he worked a case or at any other time in his life, for that matter.
He was content not to have it in his life, and just because his brothers had found love, he had been convinced it wasn’t in the cards for him.
Not that he was in love with Charlotte. No, that’s not what his feelings were. But what left him confused and almost afraid was that he could see himself being in love with her. And depending on what secrets she was keeping, it might lead to disaster for him.
He glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand, watching it until another minute ticked by on the display.
Frustrated with his inability to rest, he pushed himself up and grabbed his laptop.
Soon, he was lost in the details of his case, feeling a different type of frustration that he was no closer to having answers than when he arrived in Ivy Springs.
Using his finger on the touchscreen, he scrolled through the case research Luke had sent him.
When his eyes grew tired, he scrubbed his hands over his face, his five o’clock shadow rough against his palms. After an hour of reading through the material he had committed to memory by now, his hand snaked around to rub the back of his neck.
The intel was routine, the same information they would find on anyone with a basic internet search and examination of public records.
Mark Hanson grew up in Missouri and lived there most of his life.
He married his high school sweetheart, but several years past and a few miscarriages happened before Caleb came into their lives.
At the time, Hanson wasn’t working in construction.
By all accounts, he ran a successful investment company while his wife Delia hadn’t worked outside the home.
After Caleb was born, the Hansons moved around quite a bit.
They stuck to cities in Missouri until Delia committed suicide two years ago.
Then Hanson and his son moved to Illinois, Oklahoma, Texas, and then Georgia.
Ben attributed the man’s restlessness to the grief he felt at losing his wife, and the boy’s school records reflected it as well.
Caleb went from being a model student to being quiet and withdrawn, his grades falling from excellent to fair or failing in some cases.
Luke had managed to get his hands on the investigation notes from Caleb’s Child Protective Services file, but those didn’t have much to reveal either.
Ben didn’t want to know how his brother managed to find the intel.
He suspected Luke’s methods skirted on the edge of legality, but right now, that didn’t matter as much as finding answers.
According to the file, Caleb showed no visible signs of physical abuse. There were no records of broken bones, sprains, or even bruises outside of what a normal nine-year-old boy would have. Any signs of emotional distress were easily explained as a withdrawn boy missing his mother.
Interviews with school personnel and neighbors indicated Hanson had a temper, but no one had seen him taking his anger out on his son.
The father and son were apparently inseparable.
When Hanson wasn’t at work and Caleb at school, they were always together.
Caleb didn’t take part in extracurricular activities, and his life was pretty much spent at home or at school.
His teachers indicated Caleb was sociable with the other students at school and even had one or two that could be classified as friends, but he never had much to do with any of them outside of school, which struck Ben as unusual but not alarming.
Ben opened a search browser on his computer and did his own internet search for Mark, Delia, and Caleb Hanson. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and he was certain there was nothing new to find that Luke hadn’t already dug up. But he looked anyway.
He lost track of how long he spent down the internet rabbit hole, but the time was wasted when it revealed nothing he didn’t already know.
He found an old photo of the small family that someone had posted on social media a year before Delia’s suicide.
None of the Hansons had social media, so the post hadn’t tagged them or originated from profiles that might reveal new intel.
But the use of their names in the post alerted on his internet search.
He stared at the picture for a while. Hanson appeared much younger than he looked now, and Ben was stunned to realize he seemed…
happier in the photo. The idea of his grumpy, temperamental co-worker being happy was a hard notion to digest. Hanson had his arm around his wife, a woman of average height with reddish-brown hair and sparkling brown eyes.
She had her arms draped over Caleb’s shoulders, holding him close to her.
The little boy’s smile seemed genuine, but something about him nagged at Ben.
Since I don’t see any type of resemblance whatsoever, I’m guessing you’re adopted.
Charlotte’s words flitted unbidden through his mind, and Ben sat up straighter.
His eyes narrowed as he zoned in on specific details.
Hair color, eye color, build, nose shape, eye slant, ear shape, smile, chin, hands…
They told him everything and nothing, but it was enough for his theory to take shape.
He lifted his phone, dialed a number, and placed the call on speaker. He scrolled through his case intel while he waited for Luke to answer. When he came across the documentation of Caleb’s birth, he paused, studying this image as intently as he had the family photo.
“Hang on.”
Luke’s gruff voice was almost drowned out by the background noise. Ben distinctly heard conversation and music and realized his brother must be working a shift at the Fire Bar and Grille.
Though their brothers Jackson and Easton ran the bar — Jackson being in charge of the kitchen and Easton being the favorite bartender — Ben and Luke helped out by acting as security on occasion.
Most of the time, their presence was enough to keep the peace.
Sometimes it took more than that, but because his brothers ran a tight ship, it wasn’t very often they had to forcibly remove someone from the bar.
The background noise suddenly silenced, and Ben suspected his brother stepped into the back office.
“What’s up?” Luke asked a moment later.
“When you were running background on Mark and Delia Hanson, did you see any red flags with their documentation?”
“Why are you asking?”
He wasn’t surprised Luke answered his question with one of his own. His brother was reserved when sharing information until he fully understood a situation.
“The birth certificate and medical records you found look legit, but…”
Ben’s voice trailed off as he wondered if he was grasping at straws in an otherwise deteriorating case.
“You think they’re forged?”
Ben pushed the doubt away. “Yeah, I do. I keep thinking about something someone told me when I showed them a picture of us from your bachelor trip.”
“Someone?”
“Shut up and listen. She said she figured we were adopted because there was no family resemblance with any of us, which makes sense. After all, we’re not blood-related. I found a picture of Hanson with Caleb and his wife. They don’t look like each other either.”
“Really, Ben? You’re basing this on a picture? That’s weak, and you know it.”