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
