watching as Natalie knelt at Hannah's feet and tried to offer her some words of comfort. “Paul, why don't we go out in the kitchen and discuss this, all right?”
“What can I bring to the search?” he asked, trailing after Mitch, his mind completely absorbed with planning a course of action. “Lanterns? Flashlights? We've got some good camping gear—”
“That's fine,” Mitch said curtly. He looked Paul Kirkwood in the eye, giving him a moment to realize this conference wasn't about the search. “Paul, I know this is a tough situation for anyone,” he said softly, “but could you show your wife a little compassion here? Hannah needs your support.”
Paul stared at him, incredulous and offended. “I'm a little angry with her at the moment,” he said tightly. “She left our son to be abducted.”
“Josh is a victim of circumstance. So is Hannah, for that matter. She couldn't foresee an emergency coming into the hospital the exact time she was supposed to be picking up Josh.”
“No?” He gave a derisive snort. “How much you want to bet she was late leaving as it was? She has regular hours, you know, but she doesn't keep them. She hangs around the place just waiting for something to go wrong so she can have an excuse to stay later. God forbid she should spend any time in our home, with our kids—”
“Put a cork in it, Paul,” Mitch snapped. “Whatever problems you and Hannah are having in your marriage go on the shelf this minute. You got me? The two of you need to be together—for Josh's sake—not taking potshots at each other. You need to be angry with someone, be angry with God or with me or with lenient courts. Hannah has enough on her conscience without you climbing on top of the pile.”
Paul jerked away from him. Mitch was right—he wanted to lash out at someone. Hannah. His golden girl. His trophy bride. The woman who didn't have a clue about how to make him happy. She was too busy basking in the glow of everyone's adoration to be there for him or for their children. This was Hannah's fault. All of it.
“Bring whatever equipment you have,” Mitch said wearily. “Meet me at the ice arena.” He started for the hall and brought himself up short. “Bring some clothing of Josh's,” he added quietly, his eyes on Hannah, curled into a ball of misery on the love seat. “We'll need something for the dogs to scent.”
Natalie followed him to the front hall. “That man needs more than a talking-to. He needs a good swift kick in the pants—right where his brain is.”
“That's assault,” Mitch said. “But if you want to go in there and get him, tiger, I'll swear in court I didn't see a thing.”
“I can't believe that little number-twiddling twerp,” she grumbled. “Let that poor girl sit there and cry. Stick pins in her from across the room like she was a voodoo doll. God almighty!”
“Did you know they were having trouble?”
She made one of her faces. “Hannah doesn't talk about personal things. She could be living with the Marquis de Sade and she wouldn't say a word against him. I'm the wrong person to ask, anyway,” she admitted ruefully. “I always thought Paul was a stuck-up little prick.”
Mitch rubbed at the knots of tension in the back of his neck. “We should cut him a little slack, Nat. No one's at their best in a situation like this. Everyone reacts differently and not always admirably.”
“I'd like to react all over his head,” she muttered.
“Can you stay with Hannah? Is James home with the kids?”
Natalie nodded. “I'll call some other friends. We can pull shifts here. And I'll get the tuna casserole brigade rolling.”
“Use my cellular phone. That way you won't tie up the line here. Someone will be coming over to get the phones wired. If anything happens, I'm on the beeper.” He gave her a long look as he shrugged into his parka. “You're worth your weight in gold, Miz Bryant.”
“Tell it to the town council,” she quipped, struggling
“What can I bring to the search?” he asked, trailing after Mitch, his mind completely absorbed with planning a course of action. “Lanterns? Flashlights? We've got some good camping gear—”
“That's fine,” Mitch said curtly. He looked Paul Kirkwood in the eye, giving him a moment to realize this conference wasn't about the search. “Paul, I know this is a tough situation for anyone,” he said softly, “but could you show your wife a little compassion here? Hannah needs your support.”
Paul stared at him, incredulous and offended. “I'm a little angry with her at the moment,” he said tightly. “She left our son to be abducted.”
“Josh is a victim of circumstance. So is Hannah, for that matter. She couldn't foresee an emergency coming into the hospital the exact time she was supposed to be picking up Josh.”
“No?” He gave a derisive snort. “How much you want to bet she was late leaving as it was? She has regular hours, you know, but she doesn't keep them. She hangs around the place just waiting for something to go wrong so she can have an excuse to stay later. God forbid she should spend any time in our home, with our kids—”
“Put a cork in it, Paul,” Mitch snapped. “Whatever problems you and Hannah are having in your marriage go on the shelf this minute. You got me? The two of you need to be together—for Josh's sake—not taking potshots at each other. You need to be angry with someone, be angry with God or with me or with lenient courts. Hannah has enough on her conscience without you climbing on top of the pile.”
Paul jerked away from him. Mitch was right—he wanted to lash out at someone. Hannah. His golden girl. His trophy bride. The woman who didn't have a clue about how to make him happy. She was too busy basking in the glow of everyone's adoration to be there for him or for their children. This was Hannah's fault. All of it.
“Bring whatever equipment you have,” Mitch said wearily. “Meet me at the ice arena.” He started for the hall and brought himself up short. “Bring some clothing of Josh's,” he added quietly, his eyes on Hannah, curled into a ball of misery on the love seat. “We'll need something for the dogs to scent.”
Natalie followed him to the front hall. “That man needs more than a talking-to. He needs a good swift kick in the pants—right where his brain is.”
“That's assault,” Mitch said. “But if you want to go in there and get him, tiger, I'll swear in court I didn't see a thing.”
“I can't believe that little number-twiddling twerp,” she grumbled. “Let that poor girl sit there and cry. Stick pins in her from across the room like she was a voodoo doll. God almighty!”
“Did you know they were having trouble?”
She made one of her faces. “Hannah doesn't talk about personal things. She could be living with the Marquis de Sade and she wouldn't say a word against him. I'm the wrong person to ask, anyway,” she admitted ruefully. “I always thought Paul was a stuck-up little prick.”
Mitch rubbed at the knots of tension in the back of his neck. “We should cut him a little slack, Nat. No one's at their best in a situation like this. Everyone reacts differently and not always admirably.”
“I'd like to react all over his head,” she muttered.
“Can you stay with Hannah? Is James home with the kids?”
Natalie nodded. “I'll call some other friends. We can pull shifts here. And I'll get the tuna casserole brigade rolling.”
“Use my cellular phone. That way you won't tie up the line here. Someone will be coming over to get the phones wired. If anything happens, I'm on the beeper.” He gave her a long look as he shrugged into his parka. “You're worth your weight in gold, Miz Bryant.”
“Tell it to the town council,” she quipped, struggling
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