Hero for Hire Page 9

  He pinned the much smaller man with an authoritative look. "How quickly can you get the money together? Cash," Chad emphasized. "Fifties and hundreds. Old, well-used bills. Not in sequence." The kidnapper would spot that immediately, and Chad wanted nothing to go wrong.

  "It will take half a day. Two hours," he amended when Chad stared at him in piercing silence. When he continued to stare, Browne cleared his throat. "Maybe an hour and a half," he said, then qualified quickly, "But I'm not sure.";

  "See what you can do," Chad instructed tersely. Automatically taking Veronica's elbow, he helped her to her feet. "We'll be back in two hours."

  Browne walked them to the door of his, office, obviously relieved to see them go. "Yes, of course." Timidly he reached out and touched Veronica's arm. When she looked at him, he took a hesitant step back. "Ms. Lancaster, is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

  "You can make it an hour," she told him as she and Chad walked out.

  "Yes, well…" Browne's voice trailed off. "I'll call you when the money's ready," he said before retreating back into his office.

  "Well, he certainly came around quickly enough," Chad commented. He unlocked the passenger side of his car for Veronica, then opened the door before going around to his side.

  "He wants to make sure I won't switch my accounts once this is all behind me." Veronica slid her seat-belt tab into the slot, subconsciously listening for the click. Her expression was philosophical. "People generally wind up doing what I ask them to." Her mouth curved ruefully. "Money's a powerful incentive."

  He was a student of nuances. Of inflections and things left unsaid. He sometimes learned more about people by what they didn't say. "You don't sound very pleased about it."

  "Well, I'm pleased that he's getting the money together to help me ransom my son, yes. But pleased that the Lancaster name has some little man in a suit that cost him over a month's salary jumping through hoops, no." A note of passion crept into her voice that Chad had a feeling she wasn't aware of. He listened all the more intently. "Just once I wish I knew that someone was doing something for me and not the money or the Lancaster name."

  Closing her eyes, she sighed. A touch of bitterness entered her voice as she thought of the kidnapper who had turned her world upside down. She was complaining about trivial things. What if there hadn't been enough money to get Casey back? "I suppose there are far worse things to complain about."

  He knew what she was saying. Funny thing was, he understood. The truth becomes a desirable commodity when you're surrounded by nothing but lies.

  "Yeah, but I can see your point." Feeling her gaze on him, he looked at her for a second. There was a warmth in her eyes. A yearning beneath the sorrow that almost took his breath away. He reminded himself of his position. "You want to feel people are being genuinely honest and up-front with you."

  She would have said he was just paying her lip service, placating her like the others. But there was something in his voice that told her he understood. "Who taught you your manners?"

  He blinked, broadsided by the question. "Excuse me?"

  Even his question was evidence of his upbringing, she thought. He didn't just say, what? At any other time, she would have found that intriguing. Right now it was just a way to keep her mind off what she was afraid to think about.

  "Your manners. You're awfully polite for a—" She stopped abruptly.

  "For a what?" Amusement lifted the corners of his mouth. "A private investigator? We don't all chew gum, talk out of the side of our mouths and sound like Mike Hammer."

  "Who?"

  "Mike Hammer." The reference had just come to him. His father had had copies of the Mickey Spillane books lying around. Chad had read one out of curiosity, at the time desperately seeking some common ground between them. "Private eye in a mystery series written sometime in the fifties I think. Never mind." Chad paused, turning down the block. It was beginning to rain. He turned on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic sound was all that was heard for a moment. "My mother." He saw that Veronica was confused. "My mother taught me. She was very big on manners. 'Just because we're not well-off doesn't mean you have to behave like you were raised by wolves.'" The memory made him smile. "She used to say that a lot."

  She caught the note of affection in his voice. "Sounds like she had a pretty good effect on you."

  "She did." He looked at her. There were some things he just knew, like the fact that Veronica was a good mother. Too bad his instincts had kicked in in his teens and not before. Otherwise, maybe he would have realized what his father had been up to, asking him to slip out of the house without telling anyone to meet him at the skating rink. "Probably like you have on Casey."

  She was accustomed to flattery, to pandering people who hoped to curry favor by saying what they thought were the right things. He didn't fit that mold. "How would you know that?"

  "Call it a gut feeling."

  He gave her no more of an explanation than that, but there was something about the way he looked at her. It cut through all her pain and comforted her. More than that, it made her want to rest her head on his shoulder and just let him take over. That hadn't happened to her in a very long time.

  Veronica roused herself. The feeling was without basis. She was paying the man for his help, his expertise, and that was where it ended. She looked out the window, trying to guess where they were going. "So what do we do now?"

  He updated her. "Rusty and Ben are canvassing the neighborhoods around where the phone call was made last night. I'm going to drop you off and visit your friend, Anne Sullivan." Her body tensed instantly. She wasn't about to be dropped off. "I'm going with you."

  Politely but tersely, he tried to dissuade her. "I think you'd be better off at home."

  She refused to listen. "This isn't up for debate, Chad. I'm going with you and that's that." Her angry tone softened to an entreaty. "I can't sit home alone, waiting for the phone to ring, letting my imagination get the better of me—"

  "There's Angela," he reminded her. "And the offer to get someone to stay with you still stands."

  Sam's wife would be the perfect candidate for the job, Chad thought. He knew she'd be willing to help. It had happened before he'd joined the agency, but Savannah had gone through this herself. Except in her case, her daughter had been taken to fill a void in someone's life, not a bank balance. But the terror had been the same.

  "No," Veronica retorted flatly, then added, "thank you. But I have to be with you. Besides, Anne is one of those high-strung people. Especially now. If you come at her with questions, you might not get very much out of her except tears."

  He didn't like the sound of that. Chad spared Veronica another glance as the light turned green again. "Tears?"

  Veronica nodded. Casey's kidnapping had made her completely forget about Anne's heartache. "Her husband, the plastic surgeon," she added in a cryptic tone, "just left her for a younger woman. The improved, reconstructed kind, from what I gather."

  Chad wasn't sure he was following her. "Reconstructed?"

  "Plastic surgery from head to foot. She was his patient." She'd never cared for Anne's husband. There was something about the way he looked at people, as if he was cataloging their physical flaws and marking them for future improvement. "Seems he fashioned the perfect woman, then fell in love with his own handiwork. Like Pygmalion." Veronica frowned, feeling sorry for Anne all over again. The woman deserved better. "Anne's pretty distraught. It happened just two months ago. The party for her son was a way of trying to put it all out of her mind," she explained.

  "I'll do my best to be gentle."

  There was no flippancy in the promise. She looked at Chad and knew that he meant what he said. "I know you will."

  For the first time since she had taken the phone call at Anne's house, she began to think that maybe everything was going to work out, after all.

  Anne Sullivan was a small sparrow of a woman with voluminous auburn hair that swirled around her shoulders like a
dust cloud at sunset. Her hands seemed to be in perpetual motion, toying with the ends of her hair, gesturing, straightening things around the den that didn't need straightening.

  She reminded Chad of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. There was no doubting Veronica's assessment that the plastic surgeon's wife was taking the pending divorce very hard.

  A half smile flashed on her lips and then vanished. "I'm so glad you enjoyed Andy's birthday party enough to want to hire the same people. I have their card somewhere." Halfway to her desk, she stopped and turned to look at Veronica again. "But you weren't really here for it."

  Veronica forced a. smile to her lips, forced herself to sound as if her biggest concern was putting together a children's party. "Casey told me."

  "Casey?" Anne echoed blankly as she stared at Veronica. The next moment she blinked. "Oh, well, yes, I guess a child could say that, couldn't he? Casey's a very intelligent, perceptive boy for his age. For any age, really. Not like my Andy." The laugh was nervous, indulgent. "Now, where is that card?" Gamely Anne rummaged through what could only, through the grace of charity, be called a mess. The smile she offered Veronica was apologetic. "I'm sorry, it's just that I haven't really been myself lately. Harold always insisted on handling everything. I'm afraid I'm not very good at this living-on-my-own business yet." Anne stopped. Her voice seemed about to break.

  Doing her best to curb her impatience, knowing that what Anne was going through was painful, Veronica stepped forward and pulled the corner of an embossed letterhead out. There was a gay profusion of balloons running along the left margin. If held up, the watermark was seen to be a clown.

  Just what Casey hated.

  She looked at Anne. "Is this it?"

  Still searching, Anne looked up absently. "What?" She pushed the glasses perched on the top of her head to her nose and looked more closely at Veronica's prize. "Oh, yes. That's it. Children's Parties, Inc.," she read needlessly. "They're really getting popular." She looked at Veronica in surprise when Chad took the sheet from her. Anne cocked her head as if that could make her absorb what was going on better. "Veronica, are you—" she seemed to search for a word, her brown eyes darting to Chad then back again to Veronica "—involved?"

  At any other time, Veronica would have taken Anne into her confidence gladly and with relief. Their friendship went back more than ten years. But Anne had enough to deal with right now. No point in burdening her further.

  So instead of telling her the truth, Veronica merely nodded. "Yes."

  Anne took a longer measure of Chad before looking at her friend again. Her smile, still sad, was genuine. "Good for you."

  Leaving, Chad tucked the folded letter into his jacket pocket. "I thought you said Anne was one of your best friends."

  Opening her purse before she sat in the car, Veronica checked to make sure the cell phone was still operating. The screen declared it was receiving signals loud and clear. Why hadn't the kidnapper called back?

  "She is."

  Chad climbed in behind the wheel. "Then why did you lie to her about who I was?" After all, she'd told the housekeeper. Was there some reason she didn't trust one of her close friends as much as she trusted her housekeeper?

  "It's easier this way," Veronica said, repeating the answer she had given him yesterday when he'd asked about why she hadn't told her brother-in-law who he was. "Besides, Anne's a romantic. She likes to believe that love can happen."

  It was an excuse, but he let it go. Veronica was entitled to her own counsel. A distant curiosity prompted him to ask, "Are you a romantic?"

  "No." She would have liked to have been, but that was her sister's domain. Veronica was the practical one. "But then Robert came along and showed me how good things could be with the right person." The mention of her husband's name brought a bittersweet feeling with it. Veronica let out a shaky breath. She looked at Chad. In a way, he reminded her a little of Robert. Except that Robert had smiled more. And laughed. God, but she missed his laugh. "No offense, but I wish he were here right now."

  "Only natural," Chad allowed.

  She had truly loved her husband—Chad could see it in her eyes. The thought nudged at the emptiness within his own soul, making him wonder what it was like to love someone that way, as if it consumed you. And to be loved. That kind of love for another human being was something he had never experienced. He found himself wishing, just for an instance, that he had. That he could.

  They went to Children's Parties, Inc., and talked to the person in charge. Using the same excuse they had given Ann—and after some persuasion—Chad was able to obtain a list of the people who had worked the party at Anne's.

  "This is highly irregular, you realize," the woman told Chad as she surrendered the computer printout of the names.

  "I appreciate that," Chad replied formally. "But as head of Ms. Lancaster's security, I need to run a check on all these people before they're allowed on the grounds." He pocketed the list. Stepping back so that Veronica could walk ahead of him, he nodded at the other woman. "Thank you. We'll be in touch."

  He noticed the amused look on Veronica's face as they walked around to the rear of the store and the parking lot. "What?"

  She shook her head, but when he raised his brows, she elaborated. "Nothing, it's just that you've gone from being my potential 'significant other' to head of my security team. I was just wondering if that could be considered a promotion or a demotion."

  He sidestepped the question, not quite sure of the answer himself. It went to places better off untouched, he decided. "I have a hunch that anyone involved with you, Veronica, would want to be part of all facets of your life."

  The fact that he hadn't answered was not lost on her. She wondered if he was just naturally evasive. "Is that a compliment, Chad?"

  He hadn't meant it to come out as one. "No, just a simple observation."

  Seeing a mall up ahead, he pulled into the parking lot and parked.

  "What are we doing here?"

  Pulling out his cell phone, he tapped in his office number. "I want to get this list to Savannah as soon as possible."

  Veronica began to say something, but the phone on the other end was being picked up. Chad held his hand up, silencing her as he greeted Savannah and then read off the names to her. She'd taken them down, then told him that Erica Saunders—the woman Veronica said was being blackmailed—and her husband were away on a cruise. A sort of second honeymoon. The world, he thought, was a strange place.

  Flipping the phone closed again, he looked at Veronica. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

  "Just that we could have faxed that to her." Veronica pointed to an office-supply store on the far end of the mall. "It would have saved you the trouble of having to read them."

  He shrugged. "No trouble. I prefer avoiding things like fax machines if possible." Humor curved his mouth as he repeated something his sister had called him. "I'm technologically challenged."

  Veronica was going to say that they would have faxed it for him at the store, but he'd diverted her attention with his confession.

  "You can't be," she protested. "I saw you put that tracking device on the telephone."

  "That was a piece of cake." A piece of cake he'd painstakingly learned how to slice by watching Megan do it for him several times. "And, as Megan likes to point out, even a chimp can be trained."

  That sounded like something a sister would say to a brother. It made Veronica smile, remembering the way she and Stephanie had behaved toward each other before their parents' deaths. "Not very flattering."

  "No," he admitted readily. "But Megan likes to stick to the truth."

  Well, at least the man has no ego problem, Veronica thought.

  Their next stop was the bank again. The money was waiting for them, stacked in random unmarked bills, just as Chad had instructed.

  Thanking the branch manager, Veronica escaped before he could ask too many questions.

  It felt as if all she was doing was getting in and out of the
car, playing for time, doing busy work. And all the while, someone was holding her child, keeping him away from her. Maybe mistreating him.

  A scream of frustration began to bubble up in her throat.

  Though she was struggling valiantly to keep her mind occupied, Veronica felt as if her nerves, stretched to the limit, were about to snap.

  For the third time since they'd left the house, she took out the cell phone and checked the screen.

  Chad slanted a glance at the screen before looking back to the road. "It's still receiving."

  She hadn't realized he'd noticed. Of course he noticed, she upbraided herself. He was paid to notice things.

  Now she was arguing with herself. She didn't think she could take much more of this.

  She threw the cell phone back into her purse. "So where is he? Why hasn't the kidnapper called again?"

  Chad's voice was quiet, soothing, when he answered. "I told you, he wants to play mind games with you. The more on edge you are, the less likely the chances are he'll be caught." Chad made a right at the next corner. "We're going to your house to regroup."

  "Regroup? I don't need to regroup." She wanted to take whatever was the next step, do whatever he thought needed doing. Anything to get her even an inch closer to Casey.

  "Well, I do," he told her tersely, then added, "Humor me."

  She had no choice. He was driving.

  Chapter 9

  The door swung open before Veronica could finish turning the key in the lock. Angela stood in the hall, her compassionate smile greeting both of them. The housekeeper asked nothing, but her eyes conveyed the foremost question on her mind.

  Very slowly Chad moved his head from side to side. Angela's smile only grew more compassionate, more determined. She could offer a great deal of solace to Veronica, Chad thought. In his experience, women like Angela were rocks. He felt a surprising stirring of gratitude that she was there for Veronica.

  "I have coffee, sandwiches," Angela informed them briskly, leading the way into the living room. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Veronica was following.