Hero for Hire

A puzzle? Did he take this to be just another game to challenge himself with? A game with a fat check as a prize at the end? “This is my son’s life,” she said to him hotly.

Chad’s voice remained calm. “This is a puzzle,” he repeated, trying to make his point, “in which even the smallest piece might trigger us to see the larger whole. I want and need every small piece you can get your hands on, so to speak. It’s important,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’ll just sit here and go over everything you can think of—until the phone rings again,” he added, knowing that was foremost in her mind.

She swallowed and found that her throat was completely dry. Veronica put her fears into words. “And if it doesn’t ring?”

No chance of that happening, he thought. “You’re lucky, Veronica. The kidnapper is not after your son as a keepsake. Casey hasn’t been selected because someone is trying to line their pockets by selling kids, or because some mentally unbalanced person thinks he’s her son brought back to life. Whoever took Casey just wants your money. The phone’ll ring,” he assured her with conviction that came from instinct and years of training.

He looked at the room they had already left once. This wasn’t the best place to conduct the rest of his questioning, he thought. Just being here pained her. It would be best if he got her downstairs on more neutral territory.

He indicated the hallway. “I’d love a cup of coffee.”

Training returned to her. Veronica pressed her lips together and nodded. “Angela’s gone for the day, but I think I can manage a cup of coffee.” She turned toward the doorway.

He followed immediately behind her. “Angela?”

“My housekeeper.”

There’d been no one in the house when they arrived. He assumed that the housekeeper didn’t live in. That would make it easier for the woman if she was behind this. “How long has she been with you?”

“Since I married Robert. Ten years,” Veronica added when she realized Chad was still waiting for a number.

He stopped at the bottom of the landing to jot down the woman’s connection. “What’s her last name?”

“Evans.” She watched him write it down. “You can’t possibly suspect Angela.”

Chad fixed her with a long, studying look. “Yes,” he replied quietly, “I can. I can suspect anyone. I’m a very distrusting person, Veronica. It’s what makes me good at what I do.”

She saw the merit in that, but knew how it could interfere with the rest of his life. “How do you turn that off?”

The answer was short, succinct. “I don’t.”

For the first time she looked at him as something other than an investigator. “Doesn’t that make things difficult for you?”

He smiled, knowing where she was going with her question. “I don’t dabble in those kind of things,” he answered. “My work keeps me very busy. There isn’t time for anything else.”

She’d heard that excuse before. It was one she’d given herself. Before Robert had come along.

Chapter 4

Her heart leaped to her throat when she heard the ringing sound again just as she reached the bottom of the stairs. It had her grabbing for her cell phone even though the ring was different from her own. Hope made her irrational.

“It’s mine again,” Chad told her, slipping out his phone and opening it. It was too soon for Savannah to be getting back to him, he thought. Even Savannah wasn’t this fast.

The call was from Rusty and had nothing to do with the business at hand. Chad could tell by his brother’s unusually subdued voice that something was not right with the universe. His younger brother was ordinarily one of those people who needed no excuse to be genuinely happy. His exuberance was missing.

“Chad, do you have any free time tonight?”

Chad glanced at Veronica before answering. He intended to wait with her until the call came through from the kidnapper. There was no way of gauging how long that would be. Under normal circumstances, he would finish asking his questions and then return to the office where he’d begin a methodical investigation. But the kidnapper’s aborted call, whether intentional and merely aided and abetted by the power failure, or accidental, had left Veronica hanging. He wasn’t about to walk away from her until she heard the actual demand.

Turning away, he lowered his voice. “I don’t know yet. Why, what’s up?”

“I’m not sure,” Rusty replied. “But I don’t think you want me to talk about it on the phone. Give me a call when you’re available.”

Chad’s curiosity was mildly aroused. There were no real question marks in his personal day-to-day existence. His life was spartan-like. Outside of his cases, he had very little going on. He got together occasionally with his brother and sister, and even less often with the other three men in the firm, Cade Townsend, Sam Walters and Ben Underwood.

It wasn’t that he was antisocial; he was just self-contained. His job was to reunite parents with their children. He had no place in that sphere once his work was done, and now three of his partners, including Megan, had life partners of their own. He didn’t fit in.

“You okay?” he asked. He knew that when it came to himself, Rusty never liked to complain. Which was why when he’d had appendicitis, they had barely gotten him to the hospital in time.

There was a slight hesitation, followed quickly by an overcompensated assurance. “Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

Chad took it at face value. “Then I’ll call you when I can.” With that, Chad flipped his cell phone closed.

She was looking at him with hungry eyes, hoping for a scrap. “Was that about—?”

He cut her off before she continued to work herself up. “No, that was a personal call.”

The tight-lipped way he said it told Veronica that was as much information as she was going to get on the subject. It wasn’t that she wanted to pry into his affairs. It was just that she was desperate for a distraction, any distraction, until the kidnapper finally got back to her. But the phone in her hand remained silent. She looked at it accusingly.

“About that coffee,” he prodded gently, taking her elbow.

The words made her snap back into her surroundings. “Right. Coffee.”

Veronica looked vaguely toward the rear of the house. She was seriously beginning to doubt she remembered how to make coffee. Or how to find her way to the kitchen.

She managed both.

Moving woodenly, she pulled out two cups, one for him and one for herself. When the coffee was finally ready, she poured them with a hand she was struggling to keep from shaking. Taking a seat opposite Chad at the kitchen table, she held on to her cup with both hands as if she secretly hoped it was a way of channeling the kidnapper, forcing him to make the call.

But nothing rang. She sincerely hoped that the downed phone lines were not making the kidnapper angry. What if he took that anger out on Casey?

What if…?

She forced herself not to go there. Not to think. Instead, she stared into her china cup, watching how the overhead light skimmed along the inky surface of her untouched coffee.

“Have you been at this long?” She tried to make herself sound as if she was interested in the response, but her voice sounded dull to her own ear.

Chad leaned back in his chair. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen anyone with skin paler than hers. She looked as if the slightest thing would set her off. He debated asking if there were any mild tranquilizers in her medicine cabinet she could take. His mother’s medicine cabinet had always been full of them. Different prescriptions from different doctors all with the same mission: to make her forget her pain.

Chad decided, for the time being, not to ask. Still studying her, he set down his cup. “Investigation in general or recovering lost children?”

Lost. The word echoed back at her, mocking her. Lost. As if she’d misplaced Casey somewhere like a sweater that had been absently shed. Casey wasn’t lost—he was stolen.

She lifted one shoulder, then let it drop. The smile was minimal, but genuine as her eyes met his. “Take your pick. I probably won’t remember what you say, anyway,” she added in a flash of bare honesty.

He liked the lack of pretense. There was nothing he valued more than honesty. And nothing, he knew, that was rarer. Chad took a long sip before answering. The coffee could have been better. He doubted anyone ever complimented Veronica Lancaster on her coffee-making skills.

“I was on the police force for five years.” He paused, taking another sip. “Being with ChildFinders suits me better. It’s a focus.”