Marie Ferrarella - Childfinders, Inc. - An Uncommon Hero

“Naturally.”

McNair stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

Ben straightened, all business. His remark had been a slip. “I’m not here to mock, Mr. McNair, or to sit in judgment. My only function is to help. I’m sorry if I gave you any other impression.” He was going to have to work on his poker face, Ben thought.

“Look, I’m sorry if I don’t live up to your expectations of the grieving father. It’s not easy for me to show my emotions. But make no mistake about it, I am worried about my son and I want him back.”

Ben nodded. “You were saying about Gloria…”

Scrubbing a well-manicured hand over his face, McNair sighed and continued. “I was completely besotted with her for several months.”

Besotted. Now, there was a word he didn’t run into every day, Ben thought. But somehow, coming from McNair, it seemed to fit the narrative. “What happened after several months?”

“I came to my senses. Realized that a man in my position—responsible for the livelihood of so many people—couldn’t continue behaving like some smitten adolescent. I tried to let her down as gently as possible, make her see reason.” McNair looked at Ben to see if he understood the awkward position he’d been in. “Unfortunately, Gloria didn’t choose to be reasonable about it. I don’t think she really cared about me as much as she did about the money. I think she thought I was going to marry her.”

“And you weren’t.” Ben waited for him to continue.

He shook his head. “She wasn’t wife material.” His expression became superior. “Gloria became very possessive, flying into jealous rages when she thought that I was seeing someone else.”

Ben was undecided whether the man thought himself to be a much-abused saint, or was only trying to present himself as one. “And were you?”

“No.” The response was indignant. “And whether I was seeing someone or not is not the point.”

“No, but everything is a piece of this puzzle. In the interest of brevity, why don’t you shorten the story for the time being. Why did Gloria suddenly kidnap your son? Why now, rather than last month or next week?”

“Because I officially broke off our relationship in no uncertain terms last Thursday.”

“Thursday,” Ben echoed.

“I see why you might need a recorder,” McNair commented impatiently. “Yes, Thursday. I told her I couldn’t have a woman stalking my every move no matter how beautiful she was.”

Ben toyed with the carved paperweight one of his sisters had made for him when she was twelve as he played with logistics in his head. “What did she do with Andrew while she was stalking you?”

The question took McNair aback for a moment before he responded. “She had him with her.” He continued with his narrative, impatient to be done with it. “Of course, I took total responsibility for the affair even though she was the one who seduced me, and I offered her quite a sizable severance package to tide her over until she found another position. After all, I wasn’t heartless.”

Ben wondered if Stephen McNair actually saw himself as benevolent and blame-free. “But that didn’t fly with her.”

“No, it didn’t ‘fly.’” McNair wrapped his tongue around the word disdainfully. “When I came home two nights ago from a business trip to Washington, D.C., I found that Gloria was gone and she’d taken Andrew with her.”

“Did she leave a note?”

The question caught McNair off guard. “No.”

“Then you just assumed she’d kidnapped Andrew.”

“She was gone, he was gone, her clothes were gone. I came to the logical conclusion.” He paused as if debating something, or hunting through the photographic memory he’d boasted of. “And she’d threatened me earlier.”

“Threatened?” Ben said, instantly alert. “What kind of a threat?”

“She said she’d take Andrew away where I could never find him if I didn’t marry her. That she was going to make me pay for what I ‘did’ to her.”

He supposed if the woman was being completely irrational, she might forget to write a note, although in his experience, writing a note would have added to the drama. Perhaps twisted the knife in a little harder. A woman making a dramatic statement wasn’t apt to overlook writing a note.

But this woman hadn’t. The minor point bothered Ben.

Something else was bothering him, too. Ben looked at the other man. “And you waited almost five days before reporting this to anyone?”

It was an outright challenge and Ben half expected McNair to explode. Instead, the man looked contrite. “I was hoping that she was just angry. That she’d return him. I wanted to spare her being arrested if it was at all possible. I still do. You might have trouble understanding this because you’re still young and not in my position, but I find I still have some residual feelings regarding Gloria.”

For the first time, Stephen McNair seemed human to Ben. “Have you gotten in contact with her friends?”

The gesture was short, indicating a degree of helplessness that McNair looked unaccustomed to acknowledging.

“She’s not from around here. As far as I know, she has no friends in the area. None that she ever went out with or even mentioned. For the most part, she stayed on the estate. She was very devoted to me and to Andrew.”

Ben noted the order McNair had used. To me and to Andrew. But then, as the man said, he was new at being a father and hadn’t had the luxury of experience to fall back on.

Sometimes all the experience and time in the world didn’t help change the overall picture, Ben thought. His father had walked out on not only his mother, but on him, when he was thirteen. Being a father of four children hadn’t made Jake Underwood any less the center of his own universe.

Still, whatever the order used, the word devoted had certain connotations. Ben was counting on them. “So you’re pretty certain that she wouldn’t hurt Andrew?”

There wasn’t even a moment’s hesitation. “Yes, I’m reasonably certain that she wouldn’t do anything crazy like that. As I said, she’s just doing this to get back at me.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t some sort of note?” Ben prodded. “Conditions she wanted met before she returned your son?”

Maybe, for his own reasons, McNair was lying about there not being a note. It did seem highly unlikely that, given the circumstances, Gloria Prescott would allow this opportunity to slip by. Kidnappings happened for a variety of reasons, the least of which was revenge. But if this was for revenge, it was running atypical to form.

“No.” Exasperation peppered McNair’s voice. “I suspect she was too angry to write anything. Besides, I already know her conditions. She’d want to take up where we’d left off. She wanted me to marry her.”

In his experience, grasping people tended to want money, Ben thought. Or at least power. Silence was not the order of the day. He wondered again if there was something McNair was holding back. “And she hasn’t attempted to get in contact with you?” Ben asked.

“No,” McNair snapped. He took a deep breath, composing himself. With shaky fingers he dug into his pocket and took out a half-empty pack of cigarettes. “My one vice,” he explained, holding the pack up. “Other than falling for beautiful women. Do you mind?”

Ben was surprised that the man even bothered to ask. McNair struck him as someone who did as he pleased. Ben inclined his head, taking out a small ceramic ashtray from his side drawer and placing it on the desk. He didn’t smoke, but he understood the need.

“Thanks.” McNair lit up and inhaled. His eyes closed for a moment, as if he were having a spiritual experience. When he opened them again, he looked calmer, more capable of continuing. “If Gloria had left a note, I would have been taking care of this myself.” He glanced toward the closed door. “Is Townsend around? Maybe he…?”