Mrs. Woodley sipped her tea and said nothing.
“In fact, I thought you might want to help her out,” Ben continued. “Maybe even get some of your high- powered attorneys to clear her of any other charges like fraud or forgery or whatever. And with all your money, I thought you’d want to help her out financially, too.”
Hannah’s mother-in-law glanced over her shoulder at the man.
“I think you’ve taken up enough of Mrs. Woodley’s time,” he said with a stony gaze at Ben.
“If she’s put on trial, it’s going to come out why she took the baby and left,” Ben said. “You’re aware that your son beat her, aren’t you?”
Putting down her cup of tea, she squirmed a little on the sofa.
“Even if you drop the kidnapping charges, and she went on trial for fraud or something else, she’ll still have to explain why she did what she did. It’ll still come out that your late son was an abuser—in every sense of the word.”
Ben unzipped the duffel bag, and within a moment, the man was right behind him. “It’s just a video,” Ben explained, showing him the cassette.
“Hannah doesn’t know I’m here, Mrs. Woodley. In fact, she doesn’t even know this video exists.” He switched on to the little TV-VCR. “No one knows this exists except the three of us. The man who made it is dead. He was one of the young men who killed your son.”
Her brow wrinkled, Mrs. Woodley frowned at him.
“I really don’t want to show this to you,” Ben said. “But I’ll show it to the world if you insist on prosecuting Hannah. Anyone who sees it would have a good idea of what Hannah had to put up with. It explains why she took her baby and left.”
Ben inserted the video and pressed “Play.”
The image on the screen was dark and grainy. The footage had been filmed at night, through the window of a yacht. There were a man and a woman seated in the galley below deck. They were snorting lines of cocaine.
“It’ll get pretty awful in a few minutes,” Ben warned.
Hannah’s mother-in-law leaned forward and numbly gazed at the image on the little TV.
“Do you recognize your son, Mrs. Woodley?” Ben asked.
At the memorial service for Kenneth Woodley II, Guy stood between his mother and grandmother. Each one held onto his hand, and occasionally Guy swung their arms back and forth.
The service was held in a park overlooking Lake Michigan. It was a gloomy day, and everyone was bundled up in coats and jackets. Hannah noticed several of Mrs. Woodley’s country-club friends in their fur coats.
A minister read some prayers, and one of Mr. Woodley’s golf buddies reminisced about his godson, Kenneth Junior.
Guy was understandably confused. He’d been told his father had died in a car accident a long time ago. And now everyone was saying he’d been killed in a boat explosion just two weeks before.
“I thought he was dead,” Hannah ended up telling her son. “But I was wrong. Your father was alive, and he was in Seattle looking for us when he died.”
The explanation seemed the best temporary answer to all his questions. She couldn’t very well tell him that his father wasn’t a good man, when everyone at this memorial service was extolling Kenneth’s virtues. She would tell him the truth in a few years when he was old enough to understand.
If Guy was a bit baffled, so was she. The Woodleys gave no reason for suddenly wanting to help her in Seattle. They posted bond for her, and their attorneys worked overtime, smoothing things over and making deals so Hannah wouldn’t face any criminal charges.
The Woodleys made some deals, too. They wanted to see their grandson at least twice a year, and they wanted Hannah to attend the memorial service for Kenneth. “I realize you had your reasons for taking Little Ken and running away,” Mrs. Woodley had told her. “But I don’t think it’s necessary you share those reasons with anyone else. I see no point in treading on anyone’s grave, do you?”
Hannah had agreed to cooperate. In a strange way, she felt it was important that Guy remember this memorial service for his father.
She had told her in-laws that she and Guy would be leaving after the service. That morning, they’d presented her with a car. It was Hannah’s third automobile from the Woodleys. This one was a Saturn that Kenneth had never used. They’d already had the papers transferred to her name.
The memorial service was mercifully brief. A brunch at the country club followed. Hannah used Guy being tired as an excuse to leave early.
A valet brought her new, secondhand car around to the front entrance while the two Mrs. Woodleys and Guy waited. Hannah loaded Guy into the backseat. He was already asleep by the time she got behind the wheel and buckled her seat belt.
“Do you have any idea where you’ll be going?” Mrs. Woodley asked, leaning toward the car window.
Hannah shrugged. “Maybe Chicago. I’d like to look up some old friends. Then we’ll probably end up back in Seattle.”
“What about your friend, the Polish gentleman?”
Hannah squinted at her for a moment. “You mean Ben Podowski?”
Mrs. Woodley nodded. “Will you be visiting him?”
Hannah turned away. She felt herself tearing up a bit, and she didn’t want to cry in front of her mother-in- law.
She’d never gotten a chance to see Ben. He’d left Seattle soon after her release. What with the police, the Woodleys, all the lawyers, and reporters, there had been no time to say good-bye.
Since then, they’d had a couple of brief, awkward phone conversations. Hannah couldn’t get over the feeling that his wife was always within earshot. She figured she’d have to settle for e-mailing him on occasion, as his friend Rae had.
“I don’t think I’ll be seeing Mr. Podowski,” Hannah told her mother-in-law.
“Well, if you talk to him,” Mrs. Woodley said, “be sure to tell him how we’ve treated you. Make sure he knows we’ve held up our end of the bargain.”
Hannah squinted at her. “What bargain? What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Woodley stared back at her through the window. “He didn’t tell you about meeting with me at the hotel in Seattle?”
“Ben visited you?” Hannah murmured.
Mrs. Woodley shot a look at Guy sleeping in the back. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You mean, you don’t know anything about that horrible video?”
Hannah sighed. “Mrs. Woodley—
His directions made finding the place easy.
The house was a modest two-story tan brick with green shutters and a chimney. Mr. and Mrs. Podowski lived on a quiet street in the quaint town of Croton, an hour away from New York City on the Metro North line.
Ben came to the door with his wife, Jennifer, right behind him.
Guy was thrilled to see Ben again. As he ran up and hugged him, Hannah kept having to remind Guy to be careful of Ben’s cast.
“What happened to your face?” Guy asked him.
“I was trying to be like Indiana Jones,” Ben explained. “I jumped through a window and a house blew up. Good thing you didn’t see me a couple of weeks ago. I look a lot better now.”
He smiled at Hannah, and she felt a little flutter in her heart. Even with his face slightly bruised, Ben’s smile still did something to her.
It was awkward with his wife there. Ben introduced them. Jennifer was pretty, with auburn hair and pale green eyes. She wore khakis and a white tailored shirt. She smelled nice, too.
By comparison, Hannah thought she looked like a slob in her jeans and pullover. She’d been driving most of
