He'd thought that perhaps she'd come here with some earth-shattering revelation that Casey had confided to her on the way home. Since the boy obviously hadn't, it brought Chad back to his original question.
"You could have told me all that when I came over." He looked into her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
She'd persuaded the sergeant at the front desk to bring her back here after explaining who she was. Chad was going to need more of an explanation than that. Veronica looked at the closed door directly behind him and wondered if that was where they were holding Anne.
"I want to know why." She looked at Chad meaningfully. "And I think that Anne is going to need someone in her corner."
"In her corner?" He stared at her. The woman shook up everything he thought he knew about the human race. He knew the full story behind the kidnapping now. Once she had come to, Anne had been more than willing to give the police a full confession, waiving her right to a lawyer. To the charitable mind, there were explanations and extenuating circumstances for what she had done, but none that Veronica was familiar with yet. Which made her reason for being here so hard to understand. "How can you be in her corner? The woman kidnapped your son and put you through hell."
"I know." None of this made any sense to her, but she knew, at the bottom of her heart, what she was feeling. Despite everything, she felt compassion. "But something had to have gone horribly wrong for Anne. She wouldn't have done this terrible thing unless something forced her to do it. I need to understand what that was."
And with understanding came forgiveness. He knew that was what she was thinking. He was beginning to know her far better than he thought was safe.
"What are you—a saint?" The question had come out sarcastically, but he didn't attempt to temper it. She needed to be shaken up a little so that she could see the world for what it was. People fell into bad situations all the time, had their backs against the wall with nowhere to turn, but they didn't resort to kidnapping.
She sighed, not wanting to argue with him. He was the one who'd saved her son. And her soul. "No, not a saint, just human. I have my son back and he's not harmed. That's all that matters."
Hearts like hers left themselves open to being hurt—didn't she understand that? Anne might not have been the mastermind of the plot, but she had been a key player. "Well, he came damn close to being hurt. You realize that, don't you?"
Veronica said nothing for a moment, trying to come to terms with the fear that suddenly spiked through her. She knew it would be a long time before she could finally bury it. But to be able to do that, she needed to know all the details once and for all. Now, with no surprises later.
"Tell me," she said. "All of it. Everything you know." She gave him a starting point. Ben had told her what hospital Neil had been taken to, and she'd called to find out his condition. The nurse had said he was stable. "What does my brother-in-law have to do with it?"
"Other than bringing the viper into the fold, very little. Not that he had much of a chance of saying no. Josephine made sure she was in the right place at the right time, with all the right words to stroke his ego." The police had brought her in a short while ago, screaming obscenities at anyone within earshot. "From what I gather, Josephine's the mastermind behind all this. They just brought her in." He nodded at another room down at the far end of the hall. "But she's lawyered up. Not that it matters that much." Not with Anne giving a sworn statement. The jury would believe a socialite before they'd believe the story of a ragtag guitarist of a third-rate band.
Despite herself, Veronica shivered. She ran her hands along her arms. "Was she the one who shot Neil?"
"Yes, she was." Chad took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"No, it's all right," she began to protest.
"Keep it on." It was an order, not subject to debate. "Neil overheard Josephine on the phone with Anne and pieced things together. Apparently he had some scruples, and he told her he was going to call the police. That was when she shot him. She told Anne she killed him—I guess you socialite types are stronger than you look. Josephine was coming to get Casey."
She didn't want to let her mind go there, but she couldn't help it. "But not to bring him to me." It wasn't really a question.
"No, not to bring him to you," he agreed slowly. "Casey could identify both of them, and Josephine was not about to spend her new fortune in prison. She told Anne to get him ready. Anne was afraid that Josephine was going to kill him, too, so she took the boys and started to run. That's when we caught up to her."
He still hadn't answered what she wanted to know. "But why do this to begin with?"
"For the oldest reason in the world. Money. Seems your best friend didn't share everything with you. She was too ashamed."
Veronica couldn't bring herself to think of Anne as a coldhearted manipulator. "Of what?"
"Seems that her husband's got a damn good divorce lawyer. He used an earlier indiscretion of hers as leverage and got off without paying alimony, child support or the customary fifty-fifty split because of alienated affections."
She knew about the so-called indiscretion. "That happened six years ago when they were separated. He'd almost demolished Anne's self-esteem. When someone started paying attention to her, she was so hungry for affection she made a mistake. But only that one night."
"Apparently once was all it took."
That was so unfair. "But he's the one running off with a woman half his age."
"According to his lawyer—" he was quoting Anne, "—it was after the fact."
The hell it was. Her heart was going out to Anne more and more by the minute. "And the child support?"
"Her about-to-be ex claims that Andy's a result of that little liaison your friend had. He says Andy's not his. The upshot is, Anne was desperate. Desperate enough to listen to her cousin's plan. At least at first. To her credit, she says she tried to back out of it, but Josephine wouldn't let her. She threatened to go to the police. Anne was afraid of her."
That Veronica could well understand. There had been something about the woman's eyes that had made Veronica uneasy in her. presence. "Josephine's her cousin?"
He nodded. "According to Anne, they share a second aunt or something. And now they'll share a prison cell," he said grimly. "At least figuratively. I suspect the DA'll be more lenient with Anne because she did try to save your son." In his book, though, she didn't earn many points for that. "But the way I see it, if she hadn't provided the opportunity in the first place and then kept him in the guest house, there would have been no need to save him, because there would have been no kidnapping."
Casey had answered her questions on the way home, but she'd tried not to ask too many, afraid that she would make him realize that this all hadn't been a big game the way he'd been told.
"The guest house? Was Casey there all the time?" Why hadn't she gone there to look for him? Why hadn't her mother's instinct told her he was there?
"All the time." He studied her face, trying to read her thoughts. Her brow was furrowed, and before he could stop himself, he eased the furrows away with the tips of his fingers. Their eyes held for a long moment. He talked himself out of kissing her. The case was over and there was no sense making himself suffer over something he'd known from the start wasn't meant to be. "Still want to stand by her?"
It took Veronica a moment to examine her conscience to make certain. Nothing had changed. If anything, her conviction had only grown stronger. "Yes."
He shook his head in disbelief. "After all she's done to you? Damn, Veronica Lancaster, but you are one rare woman."
She didn't see it that way. "There but for the grace of God…"
Who was she kidding? He knew her better than that. "You wouldn't have stolen Andy if the tables had been turned."
"No." She knew that for certain, but who knew what desperate thing she might have been capable of if she had been afraid like Anne. "But then, I've never been tested that way, either." She saw him begin to disagree and
placed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "It doesn't matter. We can debate this thing forever. The bottom line is that she did save my son. She didn't let anything happen to him. For three days I've been haunted by the fear that this wasn't going to be resolved in any manner I could live with. But it was." And now that it was, she could get on with her life. "I'm going to call her a lawyer—and not the one she had handling her divorce."
He laughed shortly and folded his arms. She certainly was something else. "I suppose you'll be a character witness, too."
There was no hesitation. "If it helps."
Chad knew there was no way he was going to get her to leave. In her own refined, genteel way, the woman could be as stubborn as the best of them. "C'mon, I'll see if I can get you a few minutes with Anne. As long as you promise not to try to spring her."
She held up her hand, a smile playing on her lips. "You have my word." The dimple in her cheek deepened.
He talked himself out of kissing her again, but it was getting harder.
Chapter 15
Chad brought Veronica home an hour later. He stood back and watched as Casey rushed up to greet her, and listened as she told Andy that his mother sent her love and would be with him as soon as she could. Listened and marveled at how upbeat Veronica sounded. He'd never met anyone quite like her and knew he probably never would again.
The boys went off to play, and the housekeeper retreated after asking if there was anything special Veronica wanted for dinner. She'd opted for hot dogs and French fries, favorites of both Casey and Andy.
That left the two of them alone.
There was nothing left to do except tie up loose ends. Tie up loose ends while he felt his stomach tie itself in knots he had no idea how to undo. He followed her in silence as she went to the den to write the check that would terminate their association.
He'd known when he took on her case that he had no place in her life. That his only function was to help her, and for that she was paying the same sort of fee all the other clients who'd come to ChildFinders, Inc., had.
Except that he hadn't slept with any of the other clients.
Because she wasn't like any of the others.
But that was his problem to deal with, not hers, and the sooner he came to grips with that, the better for everyone all around. Maybe even him.
Veronica could feel a tension creep in between them and wondered why. She took her checkbook from the center desk drawer she'd unlocked. "Shall I make the check out to you?"
"To the agency will be fine," he told her. Veronica put pen to paper. He felt awkward watching her write out the check for services he'd rendered. Accepting it from her would put the cap on their relationship.
They hadn't had a relationship, he reminded himself tersely. At least, not one that, under normal circumstances, would have evolved. These hadn't been normal circumstances. Suddenly finding herself the mother of a kidnapped child was like finding herself thrown into the middle of a war. Things happened in wartime that didn't take place in everyday life.
Such as feeling he had the right to make love to a woman who had been born to the finer things in life. She needed someone from her own world, he told himself, not a man who was still wrestling with the demons from his past.
As if she would even consider being part of his life or having him be part of hers. The thought mocked him. What happened between them came under the heading of "just one of those things." An interlude, nothing more. If he tried to imbue it with any more importance than that, he was a bigger fool than he'd thought.
It was time to get things back to normal.
Finished, Veronica held the check out to him. "Let me know if this isn't enough."
He glanced at the sum. "You made it out for too much."
But when he tried to give the check back to her, Veronica pushed his hand away with a smile.
"No amount is too much, not for what you did. I was willing to give up every penny I have and beg and borrow more if I needed to." Looking up into his eyes, she folded his fingers over the check. "This doesn't begin to cover it. Consider it a small token of my appreciation."
The thought rankled him more than he knew it should have. Maybe because of the emphasis on their different stations in life. Hers said "blue blood," his said "passing through." "The agreement didn't include 'tokens.' "
Something in his voice made her wary. "Then call it a donation to the agency—to help find other missing children."
He nodded, not willing to continue arguing the point. Drawing his hand away from hers, he pocketed the check. "Thank you. Cade's been talking about getting more state-of-the-art equipment."
Inspiration leaped forward and she reached for her checkbook again. "If he needs a larger donation—"
He cut her off. He didn't want their last words to be about money. "He'll know where to come."
That had come out too curtly, but he didn't want to be reminded of their very different lifestyles. Not right now.
He was sufficiently aware of that as it was.
Chad shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in his skin. This was something new, at least with her. But then, reluctance to say goodbye was something new to him, as well.
He looked toward the door. "Unless there's anything more, I'll be going."
Unless there's anything more. The words hovered in the air between them, mocking her.
Wasn't there anything more?
She'd thought there was a great deal more. Veronica looked into his eyes again. Had she only imagined last night? The desire, the passion that had surrounded her so completely? Was that only a figment of her imagination? He'd made love to her in a way she'd never been made love to before. Gently, wildly, and it took her breath away just remembering. After last night—because of last night—she'd thought there was more in his heart. That last night hadn't been just about a convenient meeting of bodies.
She'd been the one to ask him to stay, she reminded herself. He hadn't made a single overt move toward her. Maybe he thought she was a frustrated rich widow, throwing herself at him to blot out the hours.
She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. Could she blame him for thinking that?
But now, apparently, it was over. He had a life to get back to.
And she had Casey.
So why was there this bitter hurt opening up within her? A wound that felt as if it would take a very long time to heal?
She'd never known anyone who hadn't wanted something from her. Even Robert had wanted something. The doors her name had opened up for him.
Chad Andreini wanted nothing from her and she ached because he didn't. Because she wanted so much from him. And she wanted him to want her.
But she had her pride and she wasn't going to ask him to stay. Not a second time. This time the decision had to come from him.
"No," she replied quietly, "there's nothing more." Her throat tightened as she put out her hand. Two strangers about to part.
He took her hand in his, shaking it as if they hadn't spent the night in each other's arms. As if she hadn't been the one to open up the door within him that he'd kept sealed shut for so long.
He nodded toward the ceiling. The boys had gone upstairs to play. "Say goodbye to Casey for me."
Veronica set her mouth grimly. "I will. I guess I'll see you at the trial."
The trial. He'd almost forgotten about that. He'd be there to testify about what had happened. And she'd be there to testify on behalf of a woman she had every right in the world to hate. A woman who had betrayed her trust and very nearly wrecked her world. That Veronica could be so generous and forgiving still astonished him.
Chad crossed to the doorway. "Right."
He walked away without turning around, leaving her standing in the den. He didn't know if he could look at her one last time and still keep walking. So he didn't even try.
She made him want to be a better person.
If Veronica could find it in her heart to forgive Anne Sullivan so
quickly even though the woman had been instrumental in kidnapping her son, then maybe, Chad told himself, it was time he let go of the anger he'd been harboring for so long. The anger and the hurt.
The thought lingered on his mind, and he debated it for the remainder of the day. All through the report he wrote up about the case, all through the conversations he had with the others at the agency, the thought relentlessly haunted him.
Evening found him driving to Harris Memorial Hospital, instead of his empty apartment.
It was time to bury his ghosts and put things right. Way past time.
The hospital parking lot was emptying when he arrived. Most visitors had either gone or were on their way.
Chad went to the information desk to ask what room his father was in. A small, grandmotherly woman in a pink smock stopped what she was doing to look it up on the computer. The smile she offered, along with the information, stayed in his mind, reminding him of another, softer smile as he rode the elevator up to the seventh floor.
The floor where they kept the more seriously ill patients.
Chad waited a beat before getting off the elevator, a residue of reluctance slowing him down. He had no idea what he was going to say, only that he needed to say something. For his sake, as well as his father's. He understood that now. This was as much for him as it was for his father.
The man in the single-care unit bed didn't bear any resemblance to the man he had once known. As a child, he'd always thought that his father looked powerful, like a fast-talking wrestling star in his prime. This man before him was old beyond his years, old and tired. The once robust frame had shrunk, pulling into itself. A sadness Chad was unprepared for came over him.
His father stirred, as if sensing his presence. The small, blue eyes opened, squinting as he tried to focus. Jerome Andreini shaded his eyes, though there was little light in the room.
"Chad?" he asked uncertainly, like a man who wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming.
Chad moved closer to the bed. "I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."
His father felt around on the blanket for the control that powered his bed. Seeing it, Chad pushed the small beige rectangle into his father's hand. A grateful smile creased the sunken face. Jerome pressed a button and the top section elevated, allowing him a better view of his son. "I'm doing okay, I guess, for a man with both feet in the grave."
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