Saving Chase: Crescent Harbor, #1

By Irene Onorato

Three lives on a collision course with destiny…

Logan Construction Services CEO Dan Logan desperately wants to get away and lick his wounds after being dumped by his fiancée and suffering through a devastating jobsite fatality on the same day. He retreats to a secluded island alone, but his vacation takes a dangerous turn when he rescues a teenage boy who shipwrecks on the rocky shore. A battle of wills ensues that threatens both their lives.

Dory Devereaux, a widow of six years, flees Massachusetts with her delinquent sixteen-year-old son, Chase, hoping to keep him from being placed in juvenile detention until he's deemed an adult at eighteen. Her world crumbles when she finds Chase missing the morning after arriving at her former in-laws' house in South Carolina.

Anxiety turns to despair when the police take Dory to the morgue to possibly identify a teen boy whose body was found washed ashore by a local fisherman. Can things get any worse? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irene Onorato
• Release date: Apr 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224390243

Irene Onorato

Irene Onorato was born and raised in Bronx, New York. Her father, a first-generation American whose parents were born in Italy, was an Army veteran who had served with the 178th combat engineers during WWII. He told numerous stories of battles, hardships, tragedies and triumphs. The glimpses he gave into the hearts of many American warriors would later become the inspiration for much of Irene’s writings.   In 1972, a few months after graduating high school, Irene met James Onorato, a soldier who had just returned from Vietnam. After dating two weeks, they married, raised three children, and are still happily married today.   Irene and James, both radiation protection technicians, retired from the nuclear power industry in 2014 and now reside in Louisiana. Readers can visit Irene’s website at ireneonorato.com, and find her on Facebook.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I ’m sorry, Dan.

If Dan Logan were honest, he had to admit Amanda really did look sorry. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she twisted off her engagement ring and handed it over. But sorry didn’t cut it.

He pocketed the ring and watched Amanda climb into a car driven by his best buddy. A buddy who couldn’t even face him like a man and admit to stealing his girl’s affections. It took everything in him not to run over, pull Pete Wagner out of the driver’s seat, and knock his lights out.

Two and a half years wasted on a dream, only to have the woman he loved dump him and run off with the guy who was slated to be the best man in their wedding. The revelation of their secret relationship cut him to the core. And to think, just days ago he and Amanda had sat in his living room and filled out the invitations together. Good thing he’d been too busy to mail them.

His phone rang with his father’s ringtone. Bad timing, but as the CEO of the family business, he had to answer. Hey, Dad. What’s up?

I have bad news. Really bad news.

Great. Just what he needed. The tone in Dad’s voice put him on edge. What’s wrong? Is Mom okay? What’s going on? He started toward his pickup truck which he’d parked down the street.

Mom’s fine. This isn’t a family matter. Where are you?

I’m outside Fedora’s. The restaurant where Amanda had wanted to meet. Probably because it was a neutral dumping ground where she knew he wouldn’t make a scene.

Can you go to the Paradigm Computer Industries site and meet with Grayson Decker? There’s been a terrible accident.

The mention of Grayson Decker’s name put Dan on high alert. A sub-contractor for Logan Construction Services, or LCS, Decker had already earned the distinction of having complaints of catcalls from workers around the downtown project and was on the brink of being fined by OSHA for basic worker safety violations. A thousand times over, Dan regretted accepting their lowball bid for the job.

Dad? You okay? If Dan wasn’t mistaken, his father was crying. What’s going on?

Son, a worker fell to his death about fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, he was walking a beam on the fourth floor without being tethered to the safety line. His name was Christian Foray. Twenty years old, with a pregnant wife, and his whole life ahead of him. Good grief, why would he walk a beam untethered? Did he think he was invincible?

Why indeed? Dan’s head swam in a dizzying current. Safety trumped all contractual time constraints. Always. He lived by that rule and had insisted anyone who worked for him do the same. I’ve told Grayson time and time again that workers needed to be in full-body harnesses, tied off on a safety line. I’m on my way over there now.

Dan drove to the construction site, threw his truck into four-wheel-drive and popped over the curb. Going slow, he eased through the muck alongside the steel-framed skeleton that would become a five-story office building and kept a sharp eye out for Decker. He’d have a hard time not wringing the man’s neck when he found him.

Where’s Grayson? Dan asked a passing worker as he exited his truck and placed a yellow, company-emblazoned, hardhat on his head.

Over there by the porta-john. The man pointed and went on his way carrying a huge socket wrench over his shoulder.

Across the site, EMTs collapsed a gurney carrying a sheet-covered man, pushed it into the back of their ambulance, and closed the doors. Minutes later, their clumsy van rumbled to and fro as they hit potholes on their way offsite. Once on the road, they made their way down Bonneville Boulevard and turned toward the hospital a few streets away.

Decker stood looking at a clipboard while issuing orders to a nodding worker. Dan walked over and shoved his hands into his pockets lest he take a swing at Grayson. His fingertips brushed the diamond of Amanda’s ring, bringing fresh pain that reminded him of his loss. What are you doing, Decker?

Giving last-minute instructions before⁠—

Can you give us a minute? Dan said, relieving the waiting worker of his stand-by duties.

Sure, Mr. Logan. Just holler if you need me. The young, twenty-something man, walked toward the bones of the structure.

What do you want, Logan? Decker’s sharp eyes peered deep into Dan’s. If he had any remorse about the dead man who’d just been hauled off, it didn’t show. Didn’t even come into play. I’m kind of busy, so if you’d excuse me, I’ll get back to work.

No. Dan stood resolute, jaw set, his eyes meeting the disdain in Decker’s steady gaze. You’re finished here. Get your crew and your equipment and clear out.

You gotta be kidding. The man’s momentary chuckles quickly trailed off, and a face that could kill looked back at Dan. Oh, I see. Is this about that kid? He pointed his grossly-stubbled chin in the direction of the receding ambulance.

"That kid had a name. Christian Foray. He was a real person who would probably be alive today if you’d enforced the safety rules like I told you to. Now, he’s got a grieving wife and an unborn child who will never know his father. Oh, if only he could punch this guy in the face and work him over, it would make him feel so much better. But that was outside the scope of Dan’s authority. Like I said, get your guys and all your stuff out of here. You’re fired."

Dan, Dan, Dan. Decker tried the diplomatic smile-and-kiss-babies’-cheeks approach. Look at it this way. We’re ahead of schedule and under-budget, thanks to me. Why ruin a good thing?

A good thing? Dan didn’t think so. A man was dead, and Decker was either directly or indirectly responsible. Drill the guys on safety enough times, and it becomes automatic for them to comply. Get lax on compliance, and you’re just waiting for a fatality or terrible injury. Decker was wrong. In this case, dead wrong.

Dan clenched his fists in his pockets, Amanda’s ring digging in his palm. You’ll never work another construction site in South Carolina if I have anything to say about it. Now, clear out, or I’ll call the police and have them escort you offsite.

CHAPTER 2

G et in the car. Now! Dory Devereaux refused to take more guff from her son. He was sixteen, for goodness sake. The eye-rolls, back-talk, and all-around bucking of authority had to stop. This was the last straw. His final chance. If something didn’t change soon, she’d lose him for sure.

We’re just taking off? Chase stood with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his expression tense and challenging.

Yes. No way I’m letting the State take you from me.

They’d really do that?

He still didn’t get it. The severity of what he’d done would count as a black mark against his name for a long time. Not to mention break the bank for her. That was if she could find a bank, loan company, or someone who would lend her twenty thousand dollars after seeing her lousy credit score.

You heard the judge. ‘Pay the twenty grand and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get to keep your son.’ I don’t have that kind of money and you know it.

I don’t want to go to South Carolina. There’s nothing to do at Grandma and Grandpa’s. I doubt they have cable TV, much less the Internet. What am I supposed to do all day?

Know what? I don’t care. Just get in the car and be quiet. For once in your life, do what I say. Tears streaming, Dory fell into the driver’s seat and waited for Chase to get in.

Twenty thousand dollars’ worth of damage to a stranger’s Ferrari. Maserati? Lamborghini? She could never tell one from the other. What had Chase been thinking? And where was she supposed to get that kind of money in thirty days? Her bank had turned her down. Credit union too. Her own father wouldn’t return her calls even though she’d left what—five, ten messages on his answering machine? And forget Mom. Where was she anyway? Gallivanting in France with husband number three or four? No telling.

Either way, her parents would be no help. The only thing left for Dory, if she hoped to keep the State of Massachusetts from taking her son, was to escape and put miles between Chase and the authorities who had given such a woeful ultimatum. And she could think of no safer place than her in-law’s house in her old hometown of Crescent Harbor, South Carolina.

She’d retreat to the place where she’d grown up, had a happy childhood, met Bryan, and fell in love. His love had been unwavering. And cut short all too soon. Death was a problem. A problem she didn’t understand and hadn’t wanted to contend with so soon.

Chase plopped heavily onto the passenger’s seat and slammed the door. Fine. Let’s go.

Seatbelt. She didn’t bother looking at him. His expression would reek of disdain or total absence from the present. He’d pretend to look out the window, his mind a million miles away. Anywhere but here and now. Anything but accepting responsibility for what got him to this terrible turn of events in the first place.

Dory pulled out of the parking space and signaled a right at the street. Once on I-95, she’d have a fifteen-hour drive to her in-laws’ place. Gracious people. They’d opened their home, arms, and hearts to her, treating her like a daughter instead of an in-law. How sweet it was for them to invite her and Chase to stay however long they liked. As long as they needed. Family was what Dory needed most right now. Chase too, if he’d only think clearly enough and admit it.

What a failure she’d been as a mother. Or felt like. If Bryan were still alive, things would be different. She wouldn’t have to work two jobs. They’d still have their house, Chase would have a father, and the empty space in bed beside her wouldn’t be a constant reminder of her loneliness. How unequipped she was to handle all life had thrown at her after the death of her husband. If only she’d gone to school and prepared more for the future. If only, if only, if only...

Mom!

What? The traffic circle in Middleborough loomed large ahead. Dory applied the brakes harder than she’d intended.

Chase jerked forward. His shoulder restraint engaged and knocked a little oomph out of him. Watch the road. Merge.

Sorry. Guess I got distracted. She put on her blinker, accelerated in front of a semi, and joined the flow. For once, she was in the groove. Up to speed. If only she could do that with Chase. She got off the circle and took the loop onto I-495. Half an hour later, she merged onto I-95 South.

Things would be different. Better. The judge who had passed such a harsh pronouncement wouldn’t know they’d dematerialized and beamed to a different state. She’d have her son. That was all that mattered.

Welcome to Rhode Island.

The sign made Chase want to barf. He swiveled in his seat and tossed a look back toward Massachusetts. You know you’re overreacting, don’t you? There’s no way that stupid judge was gonna make you pay up. Can’t squeeze you for what you ain’t got.

Mom shot him a teary-eyed look. I have you. That’s what I’ve got.

Taking me away won’t fix that guy’s car. I say we turn around and go home. All of this will blow over. Trust me. The courts had better things to do. Bigger fish to fry. Their scare tactics might have shaken his mom, but he knew better.

They can and will take you. Remember when you got in trouble in the train yard? All that graffiti. Mom shook her head. I couldn’t believe you’d do something like that. The same judge said he wouldn’t let you off with community service next time. He was serious, and I believed him.

He hated that the judge treated his mother as the criminal. What right did that stupid old man have to badmouth her and say she was a rotten parent?

But Mom was shaken. Bad. Her jaw trembled like she needed a good cry. He hated that. Hated hurting her. She’d be better off without him. Then she’d never have to feel ashamed.

Yes, Mom would be better off if he simply disappeared.

CHAPTER 3

The beautiful Atlantic Ocean sent white, curling waves toward the shore. Even through soundproof windows of his father’s office, Dan could envision the sounds of screeching kids as they ran back and forth on the sand of Richard’s Beach. Red and blue Frisbees launched simultaneously on the beach strand across the street, and bikini-clad lovelies raced to catch them.

Normally, the gaiety of beach revelers would have cheered Dan’s heart. The summer crowd, almost all of them on vacation from inland jobs, added money to the local economy, which was a good thing. But Dan’s mind was far from the festive crowd. Even though he wasn’t present for the terrible event, every time he closed his eyes, he envisioned Christian Foray tumbling. Screaming, arms flailing. Then hitting the dirt with an awful thud.

Dan? His father’s voice seemed light-years away.

Tumbling. Arms flailing. Pregnant wife. Unborn son or daughter. Dan stood transfixed at the window, his imagination taking him to an awful place he didn’t want to go.

Dan!

He turned and faced his father’s overwhelming expression of concern. Yeah?

Did you hear a single word I said?

Word about what?

That’s what I thought. It’s been two weeks. Don’t you think you’ve beaten yourself up enough about that boy’s death?

See, there’s the problem. He wasn’t ‘that boy.’ He was Christian Foray, a real person. And, no, he hadn’t gotten over it.

"What do you want me to do, Dan? Raise the Foray child myself? Decker’s workman’s comp is paying the widow for the loss, and LCS has pitched in with a generous settlement even