A Hero for All Seasons Read online

He straightened, rotating his shoulders slowly. There was a dull ache between the blades.

  Pausing, Cade set his motorcycle helmet down on the edge of Sam’s desk and eyed Sam’s rumpled appearance. After having Sam at the agency for almost a year, he was well acquainted with the signs by now. “You on a new case?”

  The question caught Sam off guard. “What?” And then he remembered. He’d skipped a step in procedure. “Oh, yeah, I am. Sorry.”

  Cade was lax about rules, but he did want to be notified whenever a new case came into the office. Sam knew he should have at least left a note on Cade’s desk, but paperwork had never been his forte. He always managed to put it off. It was one of the reasons he’d left the force. But not the main one.

  He tried to make amends now. “Client’s name is Savannah King.”

  The name immediately rang a bell for both Megan and Cade.

  “The woman on the news the other night?” Megan asked. She took a sip from her huge container of espresso, then frowned thoughtfully. “The case isn’t very old.” This was Tuesday. Megan would have expected the family to have allowed the police a little more time.

  “Ten minutes is a long time if it’s your child who’s been abducted.”

  The remark might just have been a casual observation, had it not been Cade who said it Even now, more than two years later, he still worked every case with one eye toward uncovering a link between the case and his own son’s abduction

  Megan silently upbraided herself for the slip. She should have known better. She’d first met Cade when she’d been called in as one of the team of FBI special agents assigned to handle his son’s kidnapping. Kidnapping cases had been her field of expertise ever since she’d first joined the Bureau. It was by request She had the background for it. When she was ten years old, her older brother had been kidnapped from in front of their house Chad lived with their mother. It was five years before the case was finally solved. Five years before she’d discovered that it had been her own father, estranged from her mother, who had taken Chad. That gave Megan the unique perspective of being personally acquainted with the hell that both the family of the victim and the family of the abductor endured. It also gave her her mission in life—to help reunite as many abducted children with their families as possible. When circumstances had arranged themselves to tie her hands at the Bureau, she’d left. It turned out to be a fortuitous move. Joining Cade’s agency allowed her far more leeway to accomplish her goal

  “Sorry,” she murmured. She wouldn’t cause Cade any pain for the world.

  Cade laid a hand on her shoulder, mutely absolving her of any guilt pangs. He wore his pain stoically and silently. It was easy at times for others to forget that he was still among the walking wounded.

  Nodding, Cade looked at the clutter of paper on Sam’s desk. Sam had a tendency to burn the midnight oil when he was working on a case. He respected that. “Getting anywhere with it?”

  Sam gathered some of the stray pages together, but before he could answer, Megan pressed the large container of espresso into his hands. “Here, I think you need this more than I do.”

  Right about now, he would have killed for a cup of coffee. Grateful, Sam took a long sip. When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy.

  “How can you drink this stuff?” He pushed the cup away from him.

  Megan reached for it and took a large swallow. “Keeps me hopping.”

  “More like bouncing off the walls.”

  He turned toward Cade and answered the man’s question. “All I’ve done is just gone over the stuff everyone already knows.” It had been a long, tedious exercise in futility, but he liked having everything organized, at least in his own mind.

  After leaving the mall, Sam had gone to the local branch office of the L.A. newspaper. He knew one of the editors there, and that had gotten him into the current back issues with a minimum of effort. He’d read everything he could on the case, making copies for himself before going to see Ben Underwood.

  But the detective wasn’t in the office, so Sam had to settle for a few inside, off-the-record observations made by one of the patrolmen who had been the first on the scene. All of it had added up to very little.

  “There was an 800 number flashing on the bottom of the screen during her plea,” Cade recalled. “Did you get the telephone records of the calls that came in yet?”

  “On my list of things to do,” Sam replied. Sam grinned at the man he had come to respect a great deal. “Not all of us are superhuman.”

  “Work on it,” Cade said, his expression deadpan as he picked up the papers Sam had been jotting notes on and skimmed them quickly. He tried to recall what he’d heard on the news about the King kidnapping.

  One thing jumped out at him. “No ransom note?”

  Sam set his mouth grimly. “None.”

  They all knew what that meant. It didn’t bode well. Still, there might be other options. “No relative lurking in the shadows?”

  “None so far.”

  Tired, punchy, Sam tried to keep the frustration he felt out of his voice. He should have sacked out on the sofa and caught a couple of hours of sleep. But he’d gotten caught up, the way he always did, and had wanted to get things organized as quickly as possible.

  “How about a disgruntled housekeeper or baby-sitter? Someone nursing a grudge, or overly attached to the little girl?” Megan suggested. She avoided mentioning other possibilities. None of them liked thinking about the darker alternatives to a kidnapping for ransom.

  Sam raised his eyes to Megan, watching her drain the last of what tasted, if he were being kind, like hot ashes to him from her container. “Trying to tell me how to do my job? I realize that I’m still the rookie here compared to you two, but—”

  After flipping the empty container into his trash basket, Megan kissed the top of Sam’s head. She’d been the one who had brought him to Cade in the first place when Sam had expressed dissatisfaction with his career. Their friendship went back more than thirteen years, to the second row in ninth-grade geometry. Back then, Sam had only been a little taller than she was. Now, more than a foot separated them.

  She laughed at his disgruntled expression. “Touchy, touchy.”

  Sam waved a disparaging hand toward the waste basket. “It’s your stupid coffee.”

  Megan’s green eyes danced. Neither of them was a morning person, but she came to much faster than he did, more than likely because of the espresso. “My coffee’s not stupid and it can’t act that fast, anyway. Nothing acts that fast except for kryptonite. It’s just your natural sunny disposition, taking over.”

  Coming around to his other side, Megan picked up the remaining notes from Sam’s desk. She read them with interest—and with difficulty. With the possible exception of her brother, Rusty, Sam had the world’s worst handwriting.

  Sam glanced from Cade to Megan. Between them, they’d divided the notes that it had taken him most of the night to pull together.

  “Feel free to jump right in.” Sam scrubbed his hands over his face, then pushed back from his desk and rose to his feet. It was too late to think about catching a few winks. He’d make it up once the case was over. “I’ve gotta grab a shower, change my clothes and go see a police detective.”

  Megan thought of all the times at the Bureau that she’d been forced to work with the local police. It was like rubbing two sheets of coarse sandpaper against each other. Never smooth going.

  “They’re not exactly high on the buddy system,” she reminded Sam.

  That was true enough. He remembered his own days on the force. “No, but this one owes me a favor. I dated his sister when no one else would.”

  He looked at Cade. “You still have that spare shirt and jeans here?”

  Cade nodded absently, letting Sam’s notes drop back on the desk. He frowned as he looked up at Sam. “Does she realize the odds?”

  The question immediately sobered him. The last traces of sleepiness faded.

  “I didn’t dwell on the
ransom thing,” Sam admitted “I figured she’s got enough on her mind without bringing that to her attention.”

  “Bringing what to my attention?”

  They all looked toward the doorway. Engrossed in the discussion, they hadn’t heard Savannah walk into the outer office. Hadn’t seen her enter. Her expression was frozen, like a lost hiker who had just realized that a copperhead was directly in her path.

  Cade stepped forward quickly, his hand extended to her. “Ms. King, I’m Cade Townsend.” The firmness of his handshake conveyed the mute support he offered. He indicated Megan. “And this is Megan Andreini.”

  Savannah was scarcely aware of shaking the short blonde’s hand. She’d heard something in Sam’s voice as she’d walked in just now. Something that chilled her to the bone. She wanted to run from it, to hide, but a perverseness pushed her on. She had to know, know everything. The not knowing was part of this horror she found herself living.

  “Bring what to my attention?” she repeated. She looked at Sam pointedly.

  “We were discussing another case,” Cade told her smoothly.

  The lie found no home. The look in Sam’s eyes confirmed her suspicions. She’d heard enough when she entered to know they were talking about Aimee.

  “No, you weren’t,” she contradicted. She continued to focus on Sam. “What does it mean when there’s no ransom note?”

  Cade and Megan exchanged looks. This one was Sam’s call. It was his case, and if he wanted her to know, he’d have to be the one to explain it.

  Sam put himself in Savannah’s place. He’d want to be told.

  He chose his words carefully. “It means that whoever took Aimee wanted her, not the money.” He watched as awareness dawned and bred horror in her eyes. Sam quickly fell back into textbook jargon.

  “Children are kidnapped for several reasons.” He enumerated them for her benefit. “To trade in exchange for a ransom, to get even with someone, and to gain custody because a parent has been denied it or wants to deny it to his or her spouse. They’re also kidnapped to be sold to a childless couple.”

  “Sold?” Savannah repeated numbly. What kind of a monster would sell a child? The same kind who would steal one, she thought, fighting despair. “But that’s slavery,” she protested numbly.

  “It’s buried under a variety of names,” Cade told her. “So-called private adoption fees, finders’ fees, things like that—but essentially, it’s selling. That’s not to say that most private adoptions aren’t completely aboveboard, but—”

  She wasn’t listening. “Is that all of them?” Savannah asked, not knowing if she could stand to hear any more. “All the reasons?” she added when Sam didn’t respond.

  “People also kidnap a child because they’ve recently lost a child themselves.” He thought of one case he’d encountered in which a woman had abducted a newborn after she had gone through all the stages of a fantasy pregnancy and didn’t have anything to show for it. “Real or imagined, they want to replace that child with another.”

  Sam glanced toward Megan, afraid that she’d add the last reason. It was one he didn’t want to touch on yet—one that was better left unsaid, especially with Cade in the room. No one needed to be reminded of the kinds of deviates who roamed the earth and preyed on the weak and innocent.

  He hoped he would never have to tell Savannah that reason.

  Of like mind, Megan held her tongue.

  Savannah’s head began to ache. The reasons Sam cited, the ones that might apply to her case, drove another large wedge between her and hope. Savannah struggled not to be overwhelmed. She acknowledged the reasons only insofar as recognizing them might be helpful in finding Aimee.

  Everything had to have that focus, she thought fiercely

  Savannah’s silent anguish was palatable. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” Megan asked, moving toward the coffeemaker.

  She’d had enough coffee in the last few days to float a battleship. The last thing she needed was more caffeine. Her nerves were brittle enough as it was. Savannah shook her head. “No.”

  “Wise choice,” Sam congratulated her, trying to lighten things a little “Megan’s leftover coffee is used to fill the cracks caused by interstate trucks on the thruways.”

  Savannah’s mouth curved slightly in response. The last several hours, ever since she’d left this office, had knitted themselves into a continuing nightmare. She knew she couldn’t go on this way.

  She looked at Sam. “You didn’t call me.” She tried not to sound accusing.

  “There was nothing to report yet.”

  She glanced at the papers that were on his desk. There was an awful lot of writing on them. Absently, she wondered why he didn’t use a computer. Funny, the kind of thoughts that went through your head in the middle of a crisis, she thought.

  “You haven’t made any progress?”

  Right about now, faced with the look in her eyes, he would have sold his soul to be in the miracle business. Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s only been—”

  Savannah held up her hand. She didn’t want to deal with excuses. That wasn’t why she’d raised the point. “I understand. Not much time has passed since I hired you. But you have to understand that every second is agony for me.”

  Cade stepped in. “We do understand, Ms. King,” he assured her.

  Savannah turned toward him. Because she felt he could empathize more closely with her, Cade was the one she’d wanted in the first place. If she couldn’t have him, she could at least use Cade’s support when she made her request.

  “Then tell him to let me come along on the investigation.”

  Her entreaty, coming out of the blue, caught Cade by surprise. “What?”

  Savannah redirected her appeal to Sam. “I came here to tell you that I tried it your way, and I can’t do it any longer. I can’t sit by the telephone, waiting for that right phone call to come in. I can’t go through the motions of living and breathing without being busy doing something.” Savannah’s eyes swept over Cade again. He was her best shot. He would understand. He’d gone through it himself. Was going through it himself. “The right something.”

  Cade totally empathized with the way Savannah felt, but having her come along would impede the investigation, maybe jeopardize it altogether. He couldn’t allow it. “Ms. King—”

  He was going to turn her down, she realized. Didn’t he remember what it was like, sitting on the side, feeling useless, your insides breaking apart?

  She was determined not to be put off. Not again “You started this agency because you couldn’t just stand by and let others handle the case for you. Because you had to feel as if you were doing something productive to try to find your son.”

  The look in her eyes spoke to Cade more than her words did She was a person whom inactivity would destroy. He couldn’t be responsible for that. And he couldn’t truthfully argue with what she’d just said, or even downplay it. He’d been in her place and hadn’t been able to endure it, either.

  “You’ve done your homework.” There was a note of admiration in his voice.

  She didn’t want Cade’s admiration. She wanted his word. “All I want is equal opportunity to do the same. Please.”

  Sam made a last-ditch effort. Cade and Megan both knew how he felt about civilians coming along. “You’re not an investigator, Ms. King.”

  The excuse carried no weight. Savannah nodded toward Cade.

  “Neither was he when he started.” It was Sam who was going to have the final word in this, she realized. Savannah turned her appeal back to him. “I won’t get in your way, Sam, I promise. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I just want to be there with you, to know firsthand what’s going on, even if it’s nothing. I just have to be there.” Savannah tried to think of a reason he could accept. “Maybe something’ll come to me that I’ve overlooked or forgotten.”

  It wasn’t in her nature to plead, but everything had gone against nature since Aimee had disappeared. She would get down on her knees
if she thought it would help sway Sam.

  “Please. I can’t go home anymore.”

  “The best thing for you to do,” Cade suggested kindly, “is to go back to work and try to keep your mind occupied.”

  “I do a lot of my work out of the house. I’m a programming engineer and designer, and I can’t even remember how to turn on my computer without concentrating. Do you actually think I can get anything done like this?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve taken a leave of absence until this is over.” The time was open-ended, just like her ordeal was.

  Sam felt like a man rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. “Maybe your family—”

  “They’re tiptoeing around me as if I was going to shatter at any minute. I’m not going to shatter,” she said fiercely. “You won’t have to treat me with kid gloves if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to have to deal with sympathy. I want to do something ” She ran her tongue along her dry lips.

  Watching her, a flash of heat licked at Sam, stunning him. The next moment it was gone, and he thought he had imagined it.

  “If it’s a matter of money,” Savannah pressed, “I’ll double your fee.”

  “Ms. King—” Sam began.

  “Triple it.” She’d find the money somehow. She’d sell the house and mortgage the rest of her life if she had to.

  “It’s not the money,” Sam insisted. “It might not be safe—”

  “Why should I be any safer than Aimee is?”

  Sam had no answer for that.

  Listening, Cade was won over. Truthfully, he couldn’t find it in his heart to tell her “no,” not after the very same sentiments had driven him to start this agency The case was Sam’s, but the agency was his. And her emotions echoed his own.

  In general, Sam knew Cade was not an emotional man. There were times when Sam didn’t have a clue what the other man was contemplating. This wasn’t one of those times. Looking at him, Sam knew exactly what Cade was thinking. Cade wanted him to agree to Savannah’s request.

  Sam resigned himself. Ultimately, Cade called the shots. Besides, if he were being honest with himself, it just wasn’t in his heart to tell Savannah “no” a second time. It just felt too cruel.