Hero For Hire. Marie Ferrarella

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      There were a few more minor loans here and there, but nothing on the level she’d given Erica and Neil. She shook her head. “Nothing of consequence.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that.” When the cell phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. He placed his hand on her arm automatically, as if that could somehow calm her down and reassure her. “That’s mine, not yours.” Hand still on her arm, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. With a snap of his wrist, he flipped the cover open. “Andreini.”

      “Are you anywhere near a television set?”

      It was Savannah. The lady was quick. He glanced toward Casey’s room. “Close enough, why?”

      “Flip on any channel,” she told him. “The story’s all over the news. They’re cutting into the local programming to make the announcement.” She saved him the trouble of having to watch. Sam had told her how much Chad hated to have things dragged out. “A truck swerved and catapulted off the 405 freeway overpass into some telephone lines. Lines are down through Newport Beach, Bedford and parts of Santa Ana and Tustin. They’re not sure how long it’s going to take to have them up and running again.”

      Newport Beach, Tustin, Bedford and Santa Ana. That encompassed a pretty sizable area.

      Turning on his heel as Veronica watched, Chad made his way back to Casey’s room and switched on the television set. The next moment, an earnest-looking young Asian-American woman dressed in a mint-green suit came on, her words captured mid-sentence as she went over the details of what Savannah had just told him.

      “…and there’s no telling just how long this will continue. Local crews are out en masse, trying to rectify the damage. Stay tuned to Channel Six news for up-to-the-minute coverage of this story…”

      He’d heard all he needed to know. “Thanks, Savannah.”

      “Anytime. Anything else?”

      He looked down at the notepad he was still holding. “As a matter of fact—” Flipping back the page, Chad glanced at the names he’d written down. “—I want you to see what you might come up with on an Erica Saunders.” He saw Veronica’s eyes widen and then annoyance enter as she placed her hand over the pad.

      “Emergency or faster?” Savannah was asking.

      He drew the pad away from Veronica. “The latter.” He shoved the pad into his jacket pocket for the moment. “You’re the best.”

      He heard her laugh on the other end. “So I keep reminding Sam.”

      “If he can’t remember that on his own, I’ll remind him for you.”

      “It’s a deal. Call you when I have something.”

      “Thanks.” Chad flipped his cell phone cover down, then tucked the phone back into his pocket. He read the wariness in Veronica’s eyes. “We’re all discreet at ChildFinders, Veronica. Mrs. Saunders’s husband isn’t going to find out a thing—and we might.”

      It was asking too much for her to believe that her best friend had had Casey kidnapped. Erica was his godmother, for heaven’s sake. “I refuse to believe that Erica could be capable of—”

      He cut her short. “No offense, Veronica, but you would be surprised what your friend might be capable of.” His gaze pinned her. “What even you might be capable of, under the right circumstances. Anyone looking at you would say you were too delicate to kill someone.”

      She thought of the shiver that had gone through her just touching the gun that Erica had held in her hands. “What are you—?”

      “But in the right situation,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her protest, “say, defending your son, you might be capable of just that.”

      She knew he was right. To keep Casey safe, she would do anything, including kill someone. “Why are you trying to deliberately shake me up?”

      It wasn’t to see that look in her eyes, although it did make her appear wildly vibrant, instead of gracefully refined. “Because I need you to be aware of things, Veronica. And I want you to tell me the truth. About everything,” he stressed. “No holding back for whatever reason. This is a puzzle…”

      A puzzle? Did he take this to be just another game to challenge himself with? A game with a fat check as a prize at the end? “This is my son’s life,” she said to him hotly.

      Chad’s voice remained calm. “This is a puzzle,” he repeated, trying to make his point, “in which even the smallest piece might trigger us to see the larger whole. I want and need every small piece you can get your hands on, so to speak. It’s important,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’ll just sit here and go over everything you can think of—until the phone rings again,” he added, knowing that was foremost in her mind.

      She swallowed and found that her throat was completely dry. Veronica put her fears into words. “And if it doesn’t ring?”

      No chance of that happening, he thought. “You’re lucky, Veronica. The kidnapper is not after your son as a keepsake. Casey hasn’t been selected because someone is trying to line their pockets by selling kids, or because some mentally unbalanced person thinks he’s her son brought back to life. Whoever took Casey just wants your money. The phone’ll ring,” he assured her with conviction that came from instinct and years of training.

      He looked at the room they had already left once. This wasn’t the best place to conduct the rest of his questioning, he thought. Just being here pained her. It would be best if he got her downstairs on more neutral territory.

      He indicated the hallway. “I’d love a cup of coffee.”

      Training returned to her. Veronica pressed her lips together and nodded. “Angela’s gone for the day, but I think I can manage a cup of coffee.” She turned toward the doorway.

      He followed immediately behind her. “Angela?”

      “My housekeeper.”

      There’d been no one in the house when they arrived. He assumed that the housekeeper didn’t live in. That would make it easier for the woman if she was behind this. “How long has she been with you?”

      “Since I married Robert. Ten years,” Veronica added when she realized Chad was still waiting for a number.

      He stopped at the bottom of the landing to jot down the woman’s connection. “What’s her last name?”

      “Evans.” She watched him write it down. “You can’t possibly suspect Angela.”

      Chad fixed her with a long, studying look. “Yes,” he replied quietly, “I can. I can suspect anyone. I’m a very distrusting person, Veronica. It’s what makes me good at what I do.”

      She saw the merit in that, but knew how it could interfere with the rest of his life. “How do you turn that off?”

      The answer was short, succinct. “I don’t.”

      For the first time she looked at him as something other than an investigator. “Doesn’t that make things difficult for you?”

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