Hero for Hire

This time her laugh was softer. She raised her eyes to his, surprised he could make a kind assessment. He looked very hard to her. As if nonsense was something he hadn’t even a nodding acquaintance with. “Which just goes to show that appearances are deceiving.”

His point exactly. “Right. I want you to remember that.”

She felt like someone who’d fallen into a trap without seeing any of the telltale signs. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that someone around you might have decided that a handout wasn’t enough. They realized that they now want the whole hand.” He studied her face, watching for any giveaway. “Know anyone like that?”

That same defensive feeling rose again, higher this time. She refused to believe what he was telling her. Veronica had spent years building up her confidence, convincing herself that there were people who wanted things from her other than just her money. That they were satisfied with her company.

She raised her chin defiantly, her eyes daring him to prove her wrong. “No.”

She was lying, he thought, and wondered why. Was she reluctant to reveal something to him because he was an outsider? It wouldn’t be the first time. Hiring a private investigator was a mixed bag. You were asking a stranger for help in exchange for money. Along with that money, you were being forced to bare your soul, something that didn’t come easily to most people. Certainly not in times of crisis.

Chad took no offense. He was accustomed to being on the outside. It had become his personal niche over the years, standing on the far side of everything. It made him an observer. And good at his job.

He pushed a little. “I’m on your side, Veronica,” he reminded her. “If there’s someone you think you’re protecting…”

“Why in heaven’s name would I hire you and then try to protect someone?”

It wasn’t so farfetched. Megan had had a case where the kidnapper had turned out to be the ex-husband. His wife, their client, had gone on defending him to the end. Chad fixed Veronica with a long look. “I don’t know. That’s for you to tell me.”

“I’m not. Protecting anyone,” she added after a beat. “You have to believe me, nothing and no one means as much to me as my little boy.” Veronica waved her hand around the well-lit hall with its collection of paintings that could easily have been housed in a museum. “I’d give up everything in a blink of an eye to have him back unharmed. As for protecting anyone…”

Veronica stopped for a moment. She pressed her lips together, debating. Her eyes slid over the photograph she still held in her hand. The one that Chad was going to have copied to show to people. Casey’s photograph. The scale tipped.

There was fresh resolve in her eyes when she looked up at him. “I know several people with cash-flow problems and one person who is being blackmailed.”

Blackmail. Someone being blackmailed could turn desperate. Discreetly pressing the record button on the tape recorder in his jacket pocket, he took out a pencil and began to write on a fresh page in his notepad. “I’m going to need names.”

Second thoughts sprang up. She didn’t want to put anyone through more than they were already enduring. “None of them would take Casey. They wouldn’t have to. I’m a very loyal friend, Chad.” If she had it, she’d give it. The word no was not in her vocabulary when it came to money.

“I’ve no doubt you are.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he entertained the thought that it might be nice to have a friend like Veronica in his corner. If he was ever in a position to need friends. Which he wasn’t. His job required a certain amount of networking, but that was apart from the concept of friends. He even kept his distance from Sam and Cade, as well as Megan and Rusty, although he was as close to them as he was to anyone. “Your loyalty isn’t in question here, but as a rule, people can do some very ugly things when they find their back pressed to the wall. Ugly things even they wouldn’t dream themselves capable of.” She was wavering.

He could see it. “Let’s start with the blackmailing victim.”

Veronica sighed, giving up the name. “Erica Saunders.”

He wrote it down. “Does Erica know who’s blackmailing her?”

Veronica shook her head. “It’s being done over the computer.”

Chad shook his head. “Ah, the benefits of technology.” He’d settle for an old-fashioned typewriter any day. He looked down at Veronica. “What is she being blackmailed for?”

She hesitated, but knew it was useless to keep silent. She’d already given up Erica’s name. “She had a fling with someone on a vacation she took.”

So far, that didn’t sound like anything to try to hide. There had to be more to the story. “And?”

Veronica felt as if she was betraying a trust. She looked away. “And she has a jealous husband. A very jealous older husband. At first she could manage the money, but now…” She spread her hands wide, imitating a gesture Erica had used when she finally broke down in her living room and told her story.

“And she came to you.”

“No, actually I went to her. I dropped by and found her with a gun in her hand. Her husband’s gun.” Veronica looked at Chad, leaving the rest unsaid. “She told me because she knew I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

And now that she was, it was eating away at her, he thought. But there were more important things at stake than Veronica’s conscience. “Think of me as a priest. And remember Casey.”

Did he think she needed to be reminded? “I can’t think of anything else.” She looked around him at the telephone in the hallway. There were phones in all the rooms. Silent phones. “Don’t you think they should be calling back by now?” She could feel herself beginning to battle hysteria again. “How long does it take to get to a telephone?”

If downed lines had prompted the abrupt disconnection, that depended on how wide the affected area was. “Maybe the grid failure is widespread. Not everyone has a cell phone.” He saw her look at hers. “And even if they do, they’d be fools to use it.”

“Why?”

“Highly traceable.” He got back to the list. So far, there was only one name on it. She’d made it sound as if there were more. “Anybody else putting the touch on you? You mentioned several people with cash-flow problems.”

This time the hesitation was longer. He could see that her nerves were getting the better of her again, chewing away at her fragile hold on sanity as she stared at the telephone.

“My brother-in-law,” she finally said.

Since she didn’t elaborate, he made a guess. “Sister’s husband?”

She looked at him, realizing that she’d momentarily drifted off. She had to keep focused. “No, Robert’s younger brother.” She saw a look come into Chad’s eyes. He obviously suspected Neil again. “He made some investments. They’re not doing too well now…” At least, that was the story he’d given her when he’d asked her for a “loan.” But he was family, and she could no more turn him away than she could dance on the moon. “He has a trust fund, but he can’t access enough to—”

“Trust fund?” As far as he knew, trust funds were for children. “Just how old is your brother-in-law?”

“Twenty-five. No, he just turned twenty-six.” Not that the extra year had brought any extra wisdom to Neil. He was one of those people forever destined to be a boy trapped in a man’s body. “His father didn’t feel that he was capable of handling the money he inherited from his grandmother sensibly.” Robert had shared that opinion, she recalled.

“Father knows best,” Chad murmured, turning a page and continuing to make more notes.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, it struck him how utterly ironic the phrase was, coming from him. In his case, father hadn’t known best. Father had known only how to inflict torment on all those around him. And on some who were far away.

He returned to the empty space above the information. “What did you say your brother-in-law’s name was?”

“Neil. Neil Reinholt.”

The name was vaguely familiar. Something about an overnight stay in jail and a party that had gotten out of hand. He made a mental note to do a great deal of checking into Reinholt’s past. “Anyone else?”

There were a few more minor loans here and there, but nothing on the level she’d given Erica and Neil. She shook her head. “Nothing of consequence.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” When the cell phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He placed his hand on her arm automatically, as if that could somehow calm her down and reassure her. “That’s mine, not yours.” Hand still on her arm, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a snap of his wrist, he flipped the cover open. “Andreini.”

“Are you anywhere near a television set?”

It was Savannah. The lady was quick. He glanced toward Casey’s room. “Close enough, why?”

“Flip on any channel,” she told him. “The story’s all over the news. They’re cutting into the local programming to make the announcement.” She saved him the trouble of having to watch. Sam had told her how much Chad hated to have things dragged out. “A truck swerved and catapulted off the 405 freeway overpass into some telephone lines. Lines are down through Newport Beach, Bedford and parts of Santa Ana and Tustin. They’re not sure how long it’s going to take to have them up and running again.”

Newport Beach, Tustin, Bedford and Santa Ana. That encompassed a pretty sizable area.

Turning on his heel as Veronica watched, Chad made his way back to Casey’s room and switched on the television set. The next moment, an earnest-looking young Asian-American woman dressed in a mint-green suit came on, her words captured mid-sentence as she went over the details of what Savannah had just told him.

“…and there’s no telling just how long this will continue. Local crews are out en masse, trying to rectify the damage. Stay tuned to Channel Six news for up-to-the-minute coverage of this story…”

He’d heard all he needed to know. “Thanks, Savannah.”

“Anytime. Anything else?”

He looked down at the notepad he was still holding. “As a matter of fact—” Flipping back the page, Chad glanced at the names he’d written down. “—I want you to see what you might come up with on an Erica Saunders.” He saw Veronica’s eyes widen and then annoyance enter as she placed her hand over the pad.

“Emergency or faster?” Savannah was asking.

He drew the pad away from Veronica. “The latter.” He shoved the pad into his jacket pocket for the moment. “You’re the best.”

He heard her laugh on the other end. “So I keep reminding Sam.”

“If he can’t remember that on his own, I’ll remind him for you.”

“It’s a deal. Call you when I have something.”

“Thanks.” Chad flipped his cell phone cover down, then tucked the phone back into his pocket. He read the wariness in Veronica’s eyes. “We’re all discreet at ChildFinders, Veronica. Mrs. Saunders’s husband isn’t going to find out a thing—and we might.”

It was asking too much for her to believe that her best friend had had Casey kidnapped. Erica was his godmother, for heaven’s sake. “I refuse to believe that Erica could be capable of—”

He cut her short. “No offense, Veronica, but you would be surprised what your friend might be capable of.” His gaze pinned her. “What even you might be capable of, under the right circumstances. Anyone looking at you would say you were too delicate to kill someone.”

She thought of the shiver that had gone through her just touching the gun that Erica had held in her hands. “What are you—?”

“But in the right situation,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her protest, “say, defending your son, you might be capable of just that.”

She knew he was right. To keep Casey safe, she would do anything, including kill someone. “Why are you trying to deliberately shake me up?”

It wasn’t to see that look in her eyes, although it did make her appear wildly vibrant, instead of gracefully refined. “Because I need you to be aware of things, Veronica. And I want you to tell me the truth. About everything,” he stressed. “No holding back for whatever reason. This is a puzzle…”

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.”

The word hit her wrong, snapping her tenuous hold on overly frayed nerves. “That’s all it is to you? A focus?”

She had a right to rail. He took no offense. She was going through hell. If shouting at him helped her, it was all part of the job. “A very good, rewarding focus. We have an amazing success record. It’s an unbroken streak.”

“Yes, I know.” Her mouth was so dry she could hardly get the words out. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she remain in control for more than a few minutes at a time? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He waved away the apology. There was no need to compound her frustration with embarrassment. “That’s okay.”

She nodded her thanks, then sighed as she set down the untouched cup. “You know what they say about streaks.”

Yes, he knew what they said. That streaks ended. It was inevitable. Everything ended eventually. But she needed hope, not reality, with its pessimistic bent.

Chad placed his hand on her wrist, drawing her eyes to his. “This one won’t end here.” He needed to get her mind occupied. “Can you give me a list of people who were at the party?”

She blew out a breath, struggling to lift the fog from her brain. “A partial one.”

He turned his pad to a clean page. “Go ahead.” She gave him six names, then hit a wall. “No problem,” he assured her. “I can get the rest from Mrs. Sullivan.”

Terror leaped into her eyes. He couldn’t say anything to arouse suspicion. Common sense warred with fear. “He said not to tell anyone.”

“He meant anyone official. Police, FBI. That’s all kidnappers ever worry about.” He saw she was unconvinced. “We can start out by telling your friend that you want to hire the same caterers and entertainers for a party for Casey.” That had a drawback. “But if she knows your son dislikes clowns…”

Veronica nodded, understanding. “Do whatever you think is best. Just get me my son back.”

He made a couple of more notes to himself, ideas that had just occurred to him. “That goes without saying.”

“But I want you to keep saying it. Keep saying it until he’s here.” Maybe if she kept repeating it, if he kept repeating it, then it would happen.

She realized that she’d reverted back to one of her old childish beliefs. If you believed hard enough in something, it would happen.

“I’m sorry. You probably feel like you’re baby-sitting an overgrown child.”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’re going through hell and you need to believe that heaven’s waiting for you.”

That was one way to put it, she thought.

The doorbell rang, cutting off her breath. On her feet so quickly that she upset both her coffee cup and her chair, Veronica left both where they fell. She ran to the front door with Chad only half a step behind her.

He knew what she was thinking. That somehow Casey had eluded his kidnapper and found his way back home. Hadn’t that been what had actually happened with him? The only difference was that he hadn’t known it at the time. He hadn’t realized that he was leaving his kidnapper behind. All he’d known was that he’d walked out on his father when the man had been too drunk to realize what was happening.

But cases like his were not common. This kidnapping was entirely different from his own. There was no mentally unbalanced ex-husband in the wings waiting for his chance.

The motive was ransom, he reminded himself, pure and simple.