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
