Hero for Hire Read online

  Hell, they were all better at this than he was, probably even the janitor.

  But they weren't here in the room with this woman, and he was. And her sobs were tearing at his heart. He thought of leaving, of getting someone, but that was the coward's way out and too close to abandonment, however fleeting, to suit him.

  Awkwardly he took hold of her shoulders and raised Veronica to her feet. She didn't seem to be aware that he was doing it. But the moment he did, she collapsed against him, burying her face in his chest and sobbing uncontrollably.

  Chad had no choice but to stand there and hold her. And silently make her a promise. He was going to find her son no matter what it took.

  Chapter 2

  The scent of unfamiliar cologne nudged its way into the depths of her grief, pulling her back up to the surface. She straightened again, determined to get control of herself. Raising her head, Veronica looked up at the stranger whose arms she had just been in. Embarrassment washed over her.

  He was probably used to this kind of behavior, she thought. But she wasn't used to behaving this way and it shamed her. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she said.

  She'd been raised not to show emotion, he guessed. Or maybe she'd learned along the way not to in order to survive. He could understand that. It gave them something in common. What little comfort he could offer, he did.

  "You're scared and you just gave in to every single bad thought that's hammering away at you, trying to break in."

  And, he added silently, she had every right to be scared. Any intelligent person would be. There were a lot of variables at play here. A lot of ways this could end unacceptably. But she didn't need to hear any of them. She needed to hear something to buoy her spirits, something to hang on to. That was part of his job, too, even if it was a part that didn't come naturally to him the way it did to Megan and Rusty.

  His eyes met hers. He had silently given her his pledge. He fully intended to make good on it.

  "I am here to tell you that you're going to get your son back, Ms. Lancaster. You have my word on it."

  "Thank you." The two small words had her entire heart behind them.

  The look on her face pinned him to his promise as surely as a monarch butterfly being pinned to a bulletin board.

  Chad turned away and fished out another tissue from the box on his desk. Pressing it into her hand, he waited until she wiped her eyes.

  He watched Veronica as she bunched the tissue in the palm of her hand and then threw it away. He got back to his questions. "Did the kidnapper tell you when to expect the call?"

  She shook her head. The investigator was probably wondering what she was doing here when the kidnapper could be calling at any moment. She indicated her purse.

  "I have call-forwarding. If he calls while I'm here, it'll come through on my cell phone."

  Sitting home, waiting without having set any wheels in motion for Casey's recovery, would have driven her crazy. She blessed the whim of fate that had sent her to her dentist's office with a toothache last month. It was there that she'd overheard a conversation about a kidnapping with a happy ending that had brought her to ChildFinders.

  Call-forwarding. She was thinking—a good sign, Chad thought. He glanced at the tape recorder. There were still a great many questions he had to ask her. Invasive, personal questions designed to enable him to get a better picture of who Veronica Lancaster was and why this had happened. Why her child and not someone else's, if, in reality, she had actually been singled out. He wondered how she was going to bear up.

  The agency dealt with every sort of missing-child scenario. Kidnapping cases fell under a variety of headings, this one being the kind that attracted the most attention, piquing the interest of news reporters. A child held for ransom rather than snatched by a social deviate or taken to fill an emotional hole left by a child who had been lost or perhaps never even conceived. The stuff headlines were made of.

  A kidnapping for money meant, at the very least, that the kidnapper was in some way familiar with his chosen target, with the family's lifestyle, as well as their comings and goings. That it might be someone that Veronica was at least slightly acquainted with might make this case easier.

  Or more difficult, he thought, depending on the circumstances.

  It was his experience that familiar surroundings helped clients. "There're still a great many questions I have to ask you," he said. "Would you be more comfortable at home?"

  "I'm not going to be comfortable anywhere, Mr. Andreini, until I get Casey safely back."

  He nodded. "I understand."

  The way he said it, she had the impression that he actually did. But how could he? How could he know what it felt like, having a son just snatched away? There one moment, gone the next without a trace. She bit her lower lip to keep from accusing him of being patronizing. He was trying to be nice. But she didn't want nice, she wanted results. Now. Before she lost her mind.

  "But I still do have more questions to ask you, Ms. Lancaster," he was saying. "You might feel better answering them at home. And seeing Casey's room might give me a better sense of your son."

  She didn't want to go home. Didn't want to walk in and know that Casey wasn't going to be there somewhere, bedeviling Angela, her housekeeper, with his antics, winning a free and clear pardon with nothing more than his infectious laugh and a smile that lit up a room.

  But he was right, this tall, solemn-eyed blond detective. She should be home. And if there was something there that helped him find Casey even a minute sooner, then it was worth the agony she knew she was going to go through.

  With a nod of her head, Veronica began steeling herself for the ordeal.

  The emptiness assaulted her the second she closed the door behind her. She'd never thought she'd go through anything worse than having Robert die. She was wrong. Though every part of her tried feverishly to hang on to the hope that Casey would be home soon, fear was attempting to beat her down into a deep, slick-walled pit of despair.

  Turning when she didn't follow him, Chad saw the look in her eyes. Knew the dangerous state her mind was in. Instinct had him taking her hand, as if the physical act could pull her out.

  "We'll get him back," Chad said again, this time with more feeling than he generally employed. "You have to believe that. We are going to get him back, and whoever took him is going to pay."

  "I'm not interested in revenge."

  "Then you're a rare woman, indeed, Ms. Lancaster. But the kidnapper is playing a dangerous game and he has to be made to pay for it." He squeezed her hand, surprising himself with the intimate action. He usually stood on the perimeter, gathering information and doing what he was paid to do. "It'll be all right," he promised. "Now, why don't you show me Casey's room?"

  With a single nod of her head, she led the way up the stairs. Without thinking, Veronica left her hand in his. It helped.

  The door to Casey's room was open. Facing west, it received the afternoon sun, which was even now spilling out into the hall. It gave the room a warmth Chad instinctively knew was part and parcel of the boy.

  He took a step inside and looked around slowly. It wasn't a huge room, but there was a great deal to take in.

  Veronica hung back in the doorway, warning herself not to cry again. She'd done all the self-indulging she intended to do. Her eyes came to rest on the drawings on his bulletin board.

  "He's just a normal little boy."

  A smile in reaction to her words played on Chad's lips despite the gravity of the situation. There was a regular computer, not a child's version of one, on one side of the room. Stacked around it in neat piles were boxes of educational software. A fifteen-inch television set was directly across from it. The set was hooked up to, not one, but two different gaming units, one on each side. In between were hip-level bookcases with either books, games or action figures occupying every available space.

  For all its paraphernalia, he had to admit that the room was the neatest child's room he'd ever seen. />
  "Not hardly," he commented under his breath. "It looks like a toy store exploded in here."

  It was a valid observation. Veronica lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I suppose I've spoiled him a little since his father died, but Casey doesn't take anything for granted," she said proudly. "I was more self-centered as a child than Casey is. There was as much joy in his eyes when he got a new action figure as when I gave him that game set." She indicated the one closest to Chad.

  He'd taken note of that one first. It was all the rage these days, according to Rusty. His younger brother had the heart of a boy and kept him abreast of what was in and what wasn't. The gaming unit was definitely the hot item of the moment.

  "I never have anything to complain about with Casey. I couldn't have asked for a better son than if I'd ordered him directly from heaven." Veronica found herself before the bulletin board, staring at the drawing he'd done just the other day. It was of the two of them. She had gangly legs and wayward curls, courtesy of a yellow crayon. She was holding what passed for flowers in her elongated hands. Like the flowers Casey had picked for her out of the garden, much to the gardener's dismay. Veronica's eyes filled with tears again. Blinking them back, she turned away before she trusted herself to look up at Chad again. "In a way, I guess I did."

  Was the boy adopted? That brought in a complete set of new possibilities if he was. A natural mother, suffering the pangs of delayed regret, could have taken Veronica's son. The ransom aspect might be a ruse. "Come again?"

  It wasn't something she talked about, but if this man was going to find Casey, maybe he needed to know all the details. At least he needed to know how precious the boy was to her.

  Taking out the thumbtack, she held the drawing to her chest. "It took me a long time to get pregnant with Casey. Five years." Looking back, it seemed a great deal longer than that. "There were endless tests, exploratory surgery…" Her voice trailed off. Everything she'd been subjected to faded the instant she'd held her baby in her arms for the first time.

  A fresh volley of panic shot through her. Veronica gripped Chad's arm. "I can't lose him now. I'll give you anything you want—"

  He cut her short. She had to understand that for him, for all of them at the agency, it wasn't about money. "Standard rates, Ms. Lancaster. I put in the same amount of effort—one hundred and ten percent—into finding a lost child whether there's a family crest or not."

  She would have traded in every last cent if it meant that Casey would never have had to go through this. It was because of who he was, who she was, that he'd been kidnapped. Children from poor families didn't get kidnapped for ransoms.

  Veronica shook her head. "No family crest." A hint of a bittersweet smile whispered faintly across her lips. "My grandfather would probably roll over in his grave if he could hear me saying this, but that ancestor who came over on the Mayflower was an indentured servant just one voyage ahead of a hangman's noose. He and his wife both were."

  Chad nodded as he took in the information. At least she wasn't a snob. "The common touch."

  "Very common."

  It remained to be seen, Chad mused, if their kidnapper fell into that category.

  He took his time looking through Casey's things, trying to get a sense of the boy. He talked to Veronica as he worked. For all intents and purposes, Casey seemed like a child with above-average intelligence, a happy-go-lucky kid with eclectic taste. The action figures, arranged in a scene of combat, looked as well used as the second game set did.

  What caught Chad's attention was a framed photograph on the far end of the bookcase of Veronica on her knees, holding her son to her. He examined it, trying to envision the scene that had been taking place when the photograph was taken. They were both laughing. Veronica looked radiant.

  Someone had taken her child and extinguished that light.

  Veronica came up behind him. Despite the raft of photographs she had from professional sittings, the one Chad was holding was her favorite of the two of them.

  "That was taken the first day of kindergarten." She could vividly remember every detail. Casey had been torn between wanting to run off to the new adventure and wanting to remain behind with her. She'd encouraged the former and loved him dearly for the latter. "This past September," she added for clarity.

  There was a building in the background. Chad peered more closely at the photograph, trying to make out the name. It seemed vaguely familiar, and he assumed that he had passed it on one occasion or another. "What school does Casey attend?"

  "Los Naranjos."

  The name clicked. Chad looked at her. "That's a public school."

  "Yes, I know. That's part of keeping Casey grounded and not letting him get a swelled head about who he is."

  Had that been a mistake? she wondered suddenly. Was it someone she'd encountered at the school who had planned this awful thing? Would Casey have been safer if she had sent him to a private school, where the screening process was exacting and the security was tight?

  "Do you know anyone who might want to take him? Have you seen someone hanging around lately? Have you received any threatening phone calls in the last month or so? Any strange calls at all, people hanging up, that sort of thing?" Chad asked.

  To each question Veronica shook her head, feeling more and more agitated. She looked at the tape recorder Chad had placed on Casey's computer desk. The soft whirring noise was almost undetectable, especially compared to the racing of her heart. But she hated it. She'd assumed since he hadn't instructed her to talk into it or near it that it could pick up sounds from all over the room. Like an invasive intruder. Like the intruder who had come into her world.

  In an effort to gather her nerves, she took a deep breath, then let it out. "As far as I can tell, I don't have any enemies, Mr. Andreini. There's nobody who would want to do this to me." She felt a flash of temper. "Don't you think if there had been I would have reported it to the police or gotten a bodyguard?"

  Hindsight, he thought. Veronica Lancaster was upbraiding herself for not having it.

  "It doesn't necessarily have to be an enemy," he said. He studied her face for a sign as he asked, "No disgruntled boyfriend trying to get even?"

  "No. I don't have time for boyfriends, Mr. Andreini."

  Chad resumed going through Casey's things. "Chad," he corrected without looking at her.

  He hated being called Mr. Andreini. It made him think of his father. There'd been a time when he had toyed with the idea of changing his last name, severing all ties with the man who had upended his life so brutally. But in the end, because Megan and Rusty had made no effort to change their surname, Chad had dropped the idea. The name tied him more to them than to his father.

  "How about your husband's parents?" Turning, he looked at her again. "Are they still alive?"

  There'd been a card at Christmas. And a generous check in lieu of a gift, which would have required time and effort on their parts. But she bore the couple no malice. It was their loss. She'd deposited the check into the account she'd started for Casey with the money from Robert's life insurance.

  "They live in Europe, Mr.—" she corrected herself "—Chad, and are frankly far more interested in their three poodles than in their only grandchild."

  She was trying hard not to show it, but he'd caught a hint of bitterness in her voice. Undoubtedly on Casey's behalf. "Your husband was an only child?"

  "He has a brother—" She stopped abruptly. She wasn't some soft-brained person to be led from question to question without understanding the direction. "Where are you going with this?" she wanted to know. Surely he couldn't be thinking of accusing Neil. Casey's uncle wasn't exactly an eager beaver when it came to doing anything meaningful with his life, but he adored the boy. "Neil dotes on him. Some monster did this." She began to sound more like herself to her own ear. Confident. In control. "I don't know any monsters, Chad. Can't you get that through your head?"

  She was loyal, protective. All good qualities. But at times they tended to make a person
blind. He'd learned not to instantly rule out anything on faith. He had to be convinced. Still, he wasn't about to waste time arguing, either, other than to say, "Well, some monster apparently knows you, Veronica."

  Veronica opened her mouth to respond but never got the chance.

  Chad was about to suggest that she take him to the site of the party—Anne Sullivan's house. He wanted to find out what agencies the woman had employed to supply the food and the entertainment, as well as the names of any regular household help she had. From where he stood, he was looking at all the earmarks of an inside job. This had not been a random kidnapping, but one that had been planned. Someone knew something, and it was up to him to follow whatever trails there were until he came to a scrap of information he could use. It was a little like being a rat following different paths in a maze. One of the paths had to lead to something substantial.

  But before he could make the suggestion, a high-pitched, urgent ring came from the purse she was still holding.

  Veronica stared down at her purse dumbly for a moment, as if the sound rendered her incapable of thought. And then the words "The kidnapper!" burst from her lips. She had forgotten to cancel call-forwarding when they'd walked into the house.

  "Answer it," Chad instructed quietly.

  The urging snapped her back to the world of the functioning. Wrapping her thoughts around a fragment of a prayer, she quickly took out the cell phone, snapping back the lid as she did so. Chad motioned for her to tilt it slightly so that he could hear.

  Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe.

  "Hello?"

  A high-pitched whine preceded the first word. "Took your sweet time answering. I was beginning to think maybe you'd changed your mind about the boy and didn't care if you got him back."