Childfinders, Inc.: An Uncommon Hero

“As soon as I find out anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

No one was more eager than he was to wrap this all up, Ben thought.

There was only one social security building in the county. Even if Gloria hadn’t worked in this particular one, Ben figured that with a little coaxing applied to the right people, he could find out which office she had worked in.

He didn’t need to coax.

The section supervisor, Anna Philbert, a robustly built woman in her forties who had once been an Olympic shot-put alternate if he was to believe the certificate that hung on the cubicle wall directly behind her, instantly recognized the photograph he showed her.

“Oh, sure, Gloria worked here.” She looked at the photograph again before handing it back to him. “Is anything wrong?”

He didn’t think the story he’d given Gloria’s great-aunt sounded sufficiently credible in the government building, so he had created another one on his way over.

“She’s missing and her fiancé’s very worried about her.”

“Missing? You mean kidnapped?” Anna asked, genuinely horrified. A beringed hand fluttered to her ample bosom. “Gloria? You’re kidding.” She shook her head in pure disbelief even as she clearly reveled in the drama of the situation. “The poor thing. She was the sweetest person in the world.”

Apparently Gloria’s fan club was growing. Why would someone regarded as “the sweetest person in the world” kidnap a child no matter how upset and angry she was? It didn’t make sense to him.

“It might not be a kidnapping,” he said quickly. “It just might be a case of cold feet.” He deliberately exchanged a conspiratorial look with the woman, drawing her further into his camp. “Tell me, if Gloria did want to get away, would you have any idea where she might go?”

As much as she looked as if she wanted to help him, Anna was forced to shake her head. “No, but I really wasn’t very close to her.” She thought a moment. “You might have better luck talking to Carla Wassel.”

“Wassel?” An image of the woman at the bookstore came to him. If he closed his eyes, he could see the name tag she’d worn against her shapely breast. It wasn’t all that common a name. He wondered if the women were somehow related. Maybe he’d finally stumbled onto a connection. “Is she in?”

Rising from behind her desk, Anna peered over the tops of the maze of cubicles.

“She’s right over there.” Anna pointed to the far end of the corridor, to a desk on the extreme right. “She and Gloria were pretty tight while Gloria was here.”

“Thank you.” He started to leave. “Oh, by the way, when did Gloria leave her job?”

“About nine months ago.” Anna smiled affectionately. “She always called this her day job, though you wouldn’t have known by the way she worked. I wished I had ten of her.”

Day job. That meant she was trying to make a go of something else. But what? It obviously wasn’t being a nanny. Could she have plotted to kidnap Andrew all along in order to get a stake of some sort? It sounded like a shot in the dark, but he’d come across wilder theories that had turned out to be true.

He probed a little further into the woman’s testimonial. “What do you mean? She put in a lot of overtime?”

“Oh, no, she never worked overtime. Couldn’t. She kept regular hours, but she gave a hundred twenty-five percent when she was here. I tried to talk her into staying, but she was adamant. Now or never, she said.”

Now or never. What was that supposed to mean? The nine-month time frame coincided with when she came to work for McNair. Had she seen the CEO as her ticket to better things?

He was holding two different puzzle pieces in his hand. So far, he’d gotten two unofficial testimonials. Both of which painted the image of a woman who believed in giving her employer everything she felt was due him or her. Giving, not taking. People like that didn’t just wake up one morning and steal their employer’s child.

Or did they?

Thanking Anna for her help, he made his way through the maze to Carla Wassel’s cubicle. He could feel Anna’s eyes following him.

Because there was no door, he rapped once on the side of the cubicle to get the woman’s attention. “Ms. Wassel?”

A dark-haired woman with striking bright blue eyes turned from her computer screen to look up at him. The smile tinged in curiosity came a beat afterward.

Ben could see the resemblance instantly. Not so much the hair, although both the woman he’d met in the bookstore and Carla Wassel were brunettes who wore their hair short, but in the eyes. A man didn’t readily forget eyes like that. They had the exact same shade of blue. Like bits of cobalt.

“Yes?”

“I’m Ben Underwood.” He indicated the chair within her cubicle. “Mind if I sit down?” Still curious, she gestured for him to take a seat. “I’m trying to locate a friend of yours. Gloria Prescott.”

“Gloria?” Her eyes widened. “Why? Has something happened to her?”

Ben stopped before reaching for Gloria’s photograph. He saw no reason for her to get as upset as she did. “What makes you ask that?”

Carla flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, ever since my sister died, I’m afraid I overreact to things. The first thing I think of is…” Her voice trailed off as she let the end of her thought go. “Never mind.” She waved away the rest of her sentence. “Why are you trying to find Gloria?”

For simplicity, and because there was a chance he might have to return for more information, Ben gave Carla the same story he’d given her supervisor.

“Her fiancé’s trying to find her. They were supposed to go away together to Hawaii last week and Gloria never showed up. Personally,” he said, leaning in a little closer, “I think it might be cold feet, but we have to investigate these things.”

Caution entered her voice. “Are you a policeman?”

For a second he debated going that route. But the closer he remained to the truth, the easier it was to remember details. “A private one.”

Carla took the information in stride. “I don’t think I can help you. I haven’t been in touch with Gloria since shortly after she left the office.” She raised her shoulder in a semihelpless movement. “I meant to, but you know how that goes. I suppose I wasn’t much fun to be around at the time. But I’m better now.”

“Nice to hear.” He tried to sound sympathetic. Another dead end, he thought. But there was still the coincidence of the names. No stone unturned. “How do you spell your last name?”

Carla’s dark eyebrows drew together over a Roman nose. “W-a-s-s-e-l, why?”

He jotted it down in the small notepad he carried. Tucking it back into his pocket, his fingers came in contact with the cookies Aunt Sugar had slipped in. He had to remember to take them out.

“Just for the record,” he assured her. “Do you have any relatives in San Francisco?”

The answer required no extensive deliberation. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

It was probably a meaningless coincidence, but he’d learned never to ignore or omit anything that seemed the slightest bit unusual. He’d gone to the bookstore where Gloria had once worked only to run into a woman with her best friend’s last name. There could be a connection. At the very least, the woman in San Francisco might know Gloria.

“I ran into someone with the exact same last name as yours just yesterday. You have to admit, it’s not exactly in the same realm as Smith or Jones.”

Curious, Carla asked gamely, “Maybe we are related. What was his name?”

“Her,” he corrected the woman. “Gina Wassel.”

Carla turned pale and grabbed the edge of her desk. Ben saw her eyes roll toward the back of her head, and for a second he thought he was going to have to catch her to keep her from sliding off her chair, onto the floor.

He grabbed her arms. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered. “Again.” He waited until she exhaled slowly. “Are you all right?”

When she looked at him, there was an accusation in her eyes. “Is this some kind of a cruel joke?”

He had no idea what she was talking about, but he’d obviously stumbled onto something. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said slowly.