ChildFinders Inc.: An Uncommon Hero Read online

  “And you weren’t.” Ben waited for him to continue.

  He shook his head. “She wasn’t wife material.” His expression became superior. “Gloria became very possessive, flying into jealous rages when she thought that I was seeing someone else.”

  Ben was undecided whether the man thought himself to be a much-abused saint, or was only trying to present himself as one. “And were you?”

  “No.” The response was indignant. “And whether I was seeing someone or not is not the point.”

  “No, but everything is a piece of this puzzle. In the interest of brevity, why don’t you shorten the story for the time being. Why did Gloria suddenly kidnap your son? Why now, rather than last month or next week?”

  “Because I officially broke off our relationship in no uncertain terms last Thursday.”

  “Thursday,” Ben echoed.

  “I see why you might need a recorder,” McNair commented impatiently. “Yes, Thursday. I told her I couldn’t have a woman stalking my every move no matter how beautiful she was.”

  Ben toyed with the carved paperweight one of his sisters had made for him when she was twelve as he played with logistics in his head. “What did she do with Andrew while she was stalking you?”

  The question took McNair aback for a moment before he responded. “She had him with her.” He continued with his narrative, impatient to be done with it. “Of course, I took total responsibility for the affair even though she was the one who seduced me, and I offered her quite a sizable severance package to tide her over until she found another position. After all, I wasn’t heartless.”

  Ben wondered if Stephen McNair actually saw himself as benevolent and blame-free. “But that didn’t fly with her.”

  “No, it didn’t ‘fly.”’ McNair wrapped his tongue around the word disdainfully. “When I came home two nights ago from a business trip to Washington, D.C., I found that Gloria was gone and she’d taken Andrew with her.”

  “Did she leave a note?”

  The question caught McNair off guard. “No.”

  “Then you just assumed she’d kidnapped Andrew.”

  “She was gone, he was gone, her clothes were gone. I came to the logical conclusion.” He paused as if debating something, or hunting through the photographic memory he’d boasted of. “And she’d threatened me earlier.”

  “Threatened?” Ben said, instantly alert. “What kind of a threat?”

  “She said she’d take Andrew away where I could never find him if I didn’t marry her. That she was going to make me pay for what I ‘did’ to her.”

  He supposed if the woman was being completely irrational, she might forget to write a note, although in his experience, writing a note would have added to the drama. Perhaps twisted the knife in a little harder. A woman making a dramatic statement wasn’t apt to overlook writing a note.

  But this woman hadn’t. The minor point bothered Ben.

  Something else was bothering him, too. Ben looked at the other man. “And you waited almost five days before reporting this to anyone?”

  It was an outright challenge and Ben half expected McNair to explode. Instead, the man looked contrite. “I was hoping that she was just angry. That she’d return him. I wanted to spare her being arrested if it was at all possible. I still do. You might have trouble understanding this because you’re still young and not in my position, but I find I still have some residual feelings regarding Gloria.”

  For the first time, Stephen McNair seemed human to Ben. “Have you gotten in contact with her friends?”

  The gesture was short, indicating a degree of helplessness that McNair looked unaccustomed to acknowledging.

  “She’s not from around here. As far as I know, she has no friends in the area. None that she ever went out with or even mentioned. For the most part, she stayed on the estate. She was very devoted to me and to Andrew.”

  Ben noted the order McNair had used. To me and to Andrew. But then, as the man said, he was new at being a father and hadn’t had the luxury of experience to fall back on.

  Sometimes all the experience and time in the world didn’t help change the overall picture, Ben thought. His father had walked out on not only his mother, but on him, when he was thirteen. Being a father of four children hadn’t made Jake Underwood any less the center of his own universe.

  Still, whatever the order used, the word devoted had certain connotations. Ben was counting on them. “So you’re pretty certain that she wouldn’t hurt Andrew?”

  There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, I’m reasonably certain that she wouldn’t do anything crazy like that. As I said, she’s just doing this to get back at me.”

  “Are you sure there wasn’t some sort of note?” Ben prodded. “Conditions she wanted met before she returned your son?”

  Maybe, for his own reasons, McNair was lying about there not being a note. It did seem highly unlikely that, given the circumstances, Gloria Prescott would allow this opportunity to slip by. Kidnappings happened for a variety of reasons, the least of which was revenge. But if this was for revenge, it was running atypical to form.

  “No.” Exasperation peppered McNair’s voice. “I suspect she was too angry to write anything. Besides, I already know her conditions. She’d want to take up where we’d left off. She wanted me to marry her.”

  In his experience, grasping people tended to want money, Ben thought. Or at least power. Silence was not the order of the day. He wondered again if there was something McNair was holding back. “And she hasn’t attempted to get in contact with you?” Ben asked.

  “No,” McNair snapped. He took a deep breath, composing himself. With shaky fingers he dug into his pocket and took out a half-empty pack of cigarettes. “My one vice,” he explained, holding the pack up. “Other than falling for beautiful women. Do you mind?”

  Ben was surprised that the man even bothered to ask. McNair struck him as someone who did as he pleased. Ben inclined his head, taking out a small ceramic ashtray from his side drawer and placing it on the desk. He didn’t smoke, but he understood the need.

  “Thanks.” McNair lit up and inhaled. His eyes closed for a moment, as if he were having a spiritual experience. When he opened them again, he looked calmer, more capable of continuing. “If Gloria had left a note, I would have been taking care of this myself.” He glanced toward the closed door. “Is Townsend around? Maybe he…?”

  It obviously rankled McNair to deal with anyone who wasn’t the top man. “Cade’s out of town on a case. The caseload is pretty heavy. Right now, I appear to be all you have at your disposal.”

  McNair wouldn’t have been where he was if he wasn’t good at damage control. A smile nothing short of charming creased his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fly off the handle that way earlier. I can usually keep my temper under wraps, it’s just that this is all completely new to me. Being a father, being a kidnap victim…”

  “Strictly speaking, Andrew’s the kidnap victim, but don’t feel bad, this kind of thing usually is new to everyone. Now, if you’ll make yourself comfortable, I still have a few more questions to ask you.” Ben saw the slight frown on McNair’s face reemerge. “I’ll try to make this as painless for you as possible.”

  McNair looked at his watch before answering. Ben saw the flash of a Rolex. Nothing but the best, he thought.

  “All right,” Stephen agreed. “But I have to be back at a meeting in an hour.”

  He’d never run into a kidnap victim’s father who’d set a time limit before. Took all kinds, Ben supposed. “You’ll be back sooner than that.”

  As Ben got out his pad, he wondered just when Stephen McNair had found the time to even father a child.

  She frowned slightly as she settled in. She wasn’t used to lying and this was certainly lying. Big time. It was going to take a great deal of practice and care on her part. One misstep and people were going to begin suspecting that something wasn’t right.

  And once suspicions were aroused…

  She didn’t want to go there. There was far too much at stake for her to dwell on the consequences. There was no point in thinking about losing everything, it would only paralyze her.

  For a moment, she paused in the doorway, looking into the small room the little boy had taken as his own. It was remarkable how resilient he was. She could stand to learn a thing or two from him about rolling with the punches and bouncing back.

  He’d thrown off the covers again. Quietly, she crept into the room, careful not to make any noise that might wake him.

  Very softly, she draped the comforter around his small body. Pressing a kiss to her fingertips, she passed it ever so lightly against his cheek. He meant everything to her.

  “Sweet dreams, sweet prince,” she whispered before withdrawing.

  She kept the door slightly ajar so she could hear him calling if he needed her. He was having those nightmares again.

  She slipped into bed. It was early, but she was tired. Lately, she’d been so drained. But then, she had reason enough to be. Before she fell asleep, as she did every night now, she thanked God for a new chance. A new chance to finally, perhaps, find peace and make her life work.

  Work for her and for the little boy she loved.

  About to leave, Ben saw a pencil-thin ray of light slipping out from beneath the door of Eliza’s office. Savannah had mentioned that the woman had just wrapped up the case she’d been working on.

  Rapping once on her door, Ben opened it and peeked in. Eliza was looking through one of the files that were spread out all over her desk and glanced in his direction. Her smile was warmth itself.

  “I didn’t think there’d be anyone still in the office. Don’t you have a home to go to?” Ben asked.

  “I could say the same to you,” she
replied.

  He leaned against the doorjamb. “Caught a new case this afternoon.” He peered at the agency’s newest partner. “You feeling all right?”

  “Not enough sleep lately,” she confessed with a shrug. “I’ve been having dreams lately.”

  “Dreams, or dreams?” he asked.

  They both knew what he meant by the emphasis. One of her “seeing” dreams. The ones that crept up out of the dark and wouldn’t give her peace until she solved the puzzle they came from. The ones she’d been blessed, or plagued with, depending on the point of view, since she’d turned twelve. “The latter.”

  He looked at her with eyes that silently communicated his sympathy. “Know what it’s about yet?”

  She shook her head. All she knew was that there was a child somewhere who needed her. But where and who and why, she hadn’t a clue and it was tormenting her.

  “No, but I will. Eventually.” Eliza changed the topic. “So, you didn’t answer me. What are you still doing here?”

  He noticed that she hadn’t given him an answer, either, but he let it pass. “Gathering some background information. I’m going to be out of town for a couple of days. Let the others know when they come in tomorrow, will you?”

  “Sure thing.” She swung her chair around to face him. “Going somewhere good?”

  He laughed. “Depends on what you think of Saratoga.”

  Interest highlighted her delicate face. She assumed he was talking about the tiny town up north from Bedford, California. “Why Saratoga?”

  “Our main kidnapping suspect has a relative there. Only living one I can come up with at the moment. A widowed great-aunt named—” he grinned “—Sugarland Malone. Not sure if she knows where the suspect is, but it’s worth a shot.” Even if the great-aunt did know, she might not be willing to disclose the information, Ben thought. Blood was thicker than water and he was an outsider.

  Eliza smiled. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to guess what was on his mind. “If anyone can get the lady to loosen her tongue, you can.”

  He wondered how much of that was flattery and how much was intuition. Eliza was a genuine psychic, one whom the police had brought in on more than a few of their unsolvable cases. He’d been as skeptical of her as anyone when he’d first met Eliza, but she’d eventually made a believer out of him. “You give me too much credit.”

  Her smile deepened, the shy edge fading. “No, I don’t.”

  Amused, he cocked his head. “Your psychic intuition, I take it?”

  She shook her head. “More like female intuition. Some things are just self-evident.” Like a man who could charm the feathers off a bird, she thought with a smile. She doubted if he knew just how persuasive those dark blue eyes of his really were. “I’ll tell the others—and good hunting.”

  “Thanks.”

  That was the word for it, all right, he thought as he closed the door behind him. Hunting.

  Chapter 2

  The jarring noise pushed its way into his consciousness.

  It was the phone, Ben realized as his brain surfaced out of a dreamless sleep. The phone was ringing. Groping for the receiver, he tried to locate and focus in on his clock.

  Four-thirty.

  In the morning?

  He scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to pull himself together. “Hello, you’d better be an obscene phone call to make this worth my while.”

  “I’ve already offered to make it worth your while, Underwood.”

  The voice—cool and official—jarred loose a memory. “Mr. McNair?” Ben looked at the clock again. A hint of annoyance entered his voice. He’d come home and done further background work for his intended trip today. He’d slept for less than three hours and he liked his rest. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone grew cooler. “I always know what time it is. I’m on my way to a meeting in Seattle and will be back by this evening. What I don’t know is if you’ve made any progress yet.” Ben sat up, annoyed now. Who the hell made phone calls at four-thirty in the morning? If he’d had any doubts about the man being a control freak, this cinched it.

  “Some,” Ben replied in answer to McNair’s question.

  “You’ve found her?” Excitement echoed in the receiver against Ben’s ear.

  Ben sighed, pulling up the comforter. Outside, the January rain was beating against his window. Telling him to go back to sleep. “No, but I might have located a relative.”

  “Where?”

  The question echoed like a command for disclosure. Maybe it was because he was half asleep, but the tone rubbed him the wrong way. Instincts surfaced, making him just the slightest bit wary. McNair, polished CEO though he might be, was in this case a loose cannon. Loose cannons had a way of going off at precisely the worst time. Ben wasn’t about to take the chance of having things blown apart by an overzealous parent.

  “Let me check it out and I’ll let you know.”

  The answer irritated McNair. “I’m not paying you to play games, Underwood.”

  Ben cut him yet a little more slack, though it galled him to do so. Stress did strange things to people, he reminded himself. Maybe, under ordinary circumstances, Stephen McNair was a completely likable person, although Ben sincerely doubted it.

  In any event, rules had to be set and boundaries defined. “No, Mr. McNair, you’re paying me to find your son and I intend to do that. But it’ll have to be my way. Again, that’s what you’re paying me for.”

  He heard the man bite off a retort he couldn’t make out, then say in a guarded voice, “You’ll call as soon as you have anything?”

  “I’ll call,” Ben promised, just as he had yesterday as McNair left the office. The man had tried to bully him into making reports at regular intervals. That might have been standard procedure at McNair’s company, but that wasn’t the way he operated and Ben had made his position perfectly clear. Or so he thought.

  “Speaking of calling, how did you get my home number?” It was unlisted, and although he’d given out his number on occasion to more than one distraught parent, something had prevented Ben from offering it to McNair. Self-preservation, most likely.

  “I have ways.” There was a smug note in the other man’s voice. And then he reiterated his earlier point. “I would appreciate you checking in with me regularly.”

  Maybe the agency should refine its screening process, Ben thought, growing closer to the end of his patience. At the moment, the agency took on all comers. Maybe it was time for Cade to rethink that when he got back from the case he was working on.

  “There’s nothing regular about my line of work. I’ll call when there’s something to call about. Goodbye, Mr. McNair.”

  Ben let the receiver fall back into the cradle, then slid back down on the bed. Less than five minutes of tossing and turning made him acknowledge that he was too irritated to go back to sleep.

  Muttering under his breath, Ben got up to take a shower. The last time he’d been up on the wrong side of four-thirty, it’d been to get ready for his paper route before going to school. The nuns at St. Mary’s, aware of his mother’s financial situation, had said paying part of his own tuition at the parochial school would make a man out of him.

  He didn’t feel very manly right now. Just tired.

  With a sigh, he turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower. There was no sense wasting time.

  The drive up Interstate 5 from Bedford to Saratoga would have been scenic had it not been for the early morning fog that hung about the winding road. He was a careful driver by nature. It wasn’t often, though, that he worried about the road and the hazards caused by careless drivers.

  But a fog this thick made him aware of every inch of road. And the possibility of his own quickly snuffed-out mortality.

  Ben slowed his vehicle down to a crawl.

  He supposed he could have gone later, but the word itself held a foreboding threat within it. Later was too close to never when it came to kidnappings. It was always best to follow every lead as soon as it occurred. Later might be too late.

  He didn’t ever intend to be too late. So far, he’d been lucky. He’d never had to face a parent and say those gut-wrenching, eternally tormenting words that would forever cut them off from hope. He’d found every child he’d set out to locate. Which was what made his job at ChildFinders so much more rewarding than the time he’d spent in the homicide division on the police force.