Childfinders, Inc.: An Uncommon Hero. Marie Ferrarella

not a Mr. Congeniality candidate, Ben thought. In his book it would have had to have taken one hell of a greedy woman to have slept with this man for monetary gain. But then, it took all kinds, and he had yet to figure out just what “kind” his quarry was. Aside from cookies, her aunt had filled him in with stories of Gloria as well, all told with an abundance of affection and filial pride. Given the woman’s state, though, he figured he had to take a great deal with a grain of salt.

      “Because I didn’t want to waste time making an appointment.”

      About to say something, McNair changed his tone. “Did you find her?”

      Again, “her,” not “him.” “If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. McNair, you seem to be a great deal more interested in my finding Gloria Prescott than you are in my finding your son.”

      “Of course I’m interested in you finding Gloria. She has what belongs to me and no one, no one gets away with that. Now, did you find her or didn’t you?”

      “Not yet.” Ben wanted to add that he wasn’t a magician, but let the remark slide. It would only lead to an escalation of tempers.

      “Then I repeat, what are you doing here in my office?”

      Ben was beginning to feel really sorry for the little boy he was looking for. He had a feeling that McNair was probably just as cold and abrasive with the son he never actually wanted as he was with someone who was “displeasing” him. “I need more information.”

      Exasperation creased the remarkably unlined brow. “I already told you everything I could think of.”

      There had to be something, some tiny piece that would lead Ben to clues that would help him find the boy. He’d seen it happen often enough. The trick was finding that one scrap that eventually opened up everything. Maybe the answers he was looking for were in Gloria’s recent past. “Where did Gloria work before she came to you?”

      The annoyance on McNair’s face deepened. “I don’t remember.”

      He was being evasive, Ben thought, and wondered why. In any event, there was an easy-enough solution. “Check your references.”

      With an angry huff, McNair turned away. There was tension in the back Ben found himself looking at. “I don’t know where they are.”

      He would have thought that McNair knew how to lay his hands on almost anything that remotely concerned him. “What about the agency that sent her? Can you remember its name?”

      McNair swung around. “What does where she worked before have to do with finding her now?”

      It was on the tip of Ben’s tongue to say that he didn’t appreciate having his methods questioned, but he thought better of it. He hadn’t come here to argue, but to search for a lead. The sooner McNair gave him what he wanted, the sooner he could get going.

      “There might be some sort of connection we’ve overlooked.” McNair looked unconvinced. “No one we’ve questioned in the area has seen her, and her only relative sent me in the wrong direction.”

      “Relative?” He said the word as if he hadn’t thought that Gloria had any, Ben noted. “Well, go back to him or her and get the truth.”

      “It’s a her,” Ben told him. “And I think the sky’s a different color in her world than it is in the world the rest of us reside in.”

      “You mean she’s crazy?” Surprise imprinted the distinguished features.

      “No, just somewhat off. Eccentric.” Ben had no idea why he suddenly felt protective of a woman he hardly knew. Maybe it was McNair’s manner. He pressed on. “What I need right now is someone else who knew her, someone who might have a decent idea where Gloria might have gone with your son.”

      McNair blew out a breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face. Searching his memory. Or debating over something that he’d felt better about keeping obscure. Ben couldn’t tell.

      Finally, McNair said, “I think she used to work in a social security office.”

      Something to go on, Ben thought. “Locally?”

      “I think so.” The scowl returned. “Look, I’m doing all the work here.”

      Ben was already at the door, more than eager to leave. “We’ll arrange for a discount.” He didn’t bother sublimating the sarcasm.

      It wasn’t wasted on McNair. His expression bordered on malevolence. “Damn straight you will. And don’t forget, I want to be kept posted,” he called after Ben.

      “As soon as I find out anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

      No one was more eager than he was to wrap this all up, Ben thought.

      There was only one social security building in the county. Even if Gloria hadn’t worked in this particular one, Ben figured that with a little coaxing applied to the right people, he could find out which office she had worked in.

      He didn’t need to coax.

      The section supervisor, Anna Philbert, a robustly built woman in her forties who had once been an Olympic shot-put alternate if he was to believe the certificate that hung on the cubicle wall directly behind her, instantly recognized the photograph he showed her.

      “Oh, sure, Gloria worked here.” She looked at the photograph again before handing it back to him. “Is anything wrong?”

      He didn’t think the story he’d given Gloria’s great-aunt sounded sufficiently credible in the government building, so he had created another one on his way over.

      “She’s missing and her fiancé’s very worried about her.”

      “Missing? You mean kidnapped?” Anna asked, genuinely horrified. A beringed hand fluttered to her ample bosom. “Gloria? You’re kidding.” She shook her head in pure disbelief even as she clearly reveled in the drama of the situation. “The poor thing. She was the sweetest person in the world.”

      Apparently Gloria’s fan club was growing. Why would someone regarded as “the sweetest person in the world” kidnap a child no matter how upset and angry she was? It didn’t make sense to him.

      “It might not be a kidnapping,” he said quickly. “It just might be a case of cold feet.” He deliberately exchanged a conspiratorial look with the woman, drawing her further into his camp. “Tell me, if Gloria did want to get away, would you have any idea where she might go?”

      As much as she looked as if she wanted to help him, Anna was forced to shake her head. “No, but I really wasn’t very close to her.” She thought a moment. “You might have better luck talking to Carla Wassel.”

      “Wassel?” An image of the woman at the bookstore came to him. If he closed his eyes, he could see the name tag she’d worn against her shapely breast. It wasn’t all that common a name. He wondered if the women were somehow related. Maybe he’d finally stumbled onto a connection. “Is she in?”

      Rising from behind her desk, Anna peered over the tops of the maze of cubicles.

      “She’s right over there.” Anna pointed to the far end of the corridor, to a desk on the extreme right. “She and Gloria were pretty tight while Gloria was here.”

      “Thank you.” He started to leave. “Oh, by the way, when did Gloria leave her job?”

      “About nine months ago.” Anna smiled affectionately. “She always called this her day job, though you wouldn’t have known by the way she worked. I wished I had ten of her.”

      Day job. That meant she was trying to make a go of something else. But what? It obviously wasn’t being a nanny. Could she have plotted to kidnap Andrew all along in order to get a stake of some sort? It sounded like a shot in the dark, but he’d come across wilder theories that had turned out to be true.

      He probed a little further