She didn't want her mind to go there.

There was a rest room on either side of the southernmost wall, one for men, one for women. A public telephone sat between them. Unfinished garden apartments, in the final stages of construction, served as a backdrop. Similar dwellings, completed six months ago, stood overlooking the other side of the area.

Their kidnapper could be anywhere, though it was more likely, Chad thought, that the man was hiding somewhere in the construction site. Access was easy; so was flight. There were just too many places to hide, too many places to search.

He longed for a dog. A mutt like Jacques, part hound, part retriever. A wave of unexpected nostalgia hit him as he recalled spending hours with Megan trying to confound the dog with unique games of hide-and-seek. Jacques was old when they'd

gotten him from the pound, but he'd had the keenest sense of smell. He could find absolutely anything they hid. All he needed was the slightest scent, and he was off and running.

Jacques would have come in handy today.

Veronica turned to look at Chad, the breathlessness in her voice giving away her agitation. "What if it's not there?"

"It will be," he a.s.sured her with the conviction he knew she needed. They'd waited the allotted two hours, timing their arrival to be just a shade after the time the kidnapper had specified. She was hesitating, as if the extra moments were somehow insurance that the photograph was there. Chad looked around. No one was approaching. "I'd go in with you, but if there's anyone inside..."

She nodded. She hadn't needed anyone to hold her hand since she was a little girl. "I'll be right out."

He watched her disappear, his back to the construction site, careful to keep his body blocking visibility to the telephone. If anyone did see him, it looked as if he was checking to see if there was any change to be found.

The door to the women's room swung open again. A young girl wearing a bright red Cardinals cap gave him a mildly curious glance before she dashed away, obviously heading for the game in progress.

The next moment Veronica came out.

She was holding up a four-by-six photograph of marginal quality for him to see.

Chad moved in closer for a look. It showed Casey, holding up a newspaper against his chest, and took up the entire frame; nothing else was even remotely visible.

The kidnapper, it appeared, was leaving nothing to chance, no inadvertent clues that would give the location away.

Veronica saw what she needed to. "He doesn't look afraid." She studied the photograph intently. If she hadn't known that it had been taken by the kidnapper, she would have said that Casey looked very happy. "At least he's not being mistreated." Trying to remain hopeful, she surrendered the photograph to Chad.

When the telephone rang the next moment, Veronica let out a small cry.

"That will be our kidnapper," Chad guessed. "He's probably watching us right now."

Eyes wide, she scanned the area again as she brought the receiver to her ear.

Where was he? Why couldn't she see him? Did that mean that Casey was somewhere close by, too? The very thought made her want to scream into the telephone, demanding her son be set free. But instead, she struggled to curb her emotions and remain calm.

"h.e.l.lo?"

She heard something crackle before she heard the metallic voice. "Satisfied, Ronnie?"

She let out a shaky breath. "He looks like you're taking good care of him."

"Why wouldn't I?" the kidnapper mocked. "Your boy's worth his weight in gold to me."

Swallowing, she took a chance. "Can I talk to him?"

The request brought an immediate change in tone. "You're not in a position to make demands."

"It's not a demand!" she cried. For a brief second her eyes met Chad's. The sympathy she saw buoyed her. "Please?"

There was a pause and then a shuffling noise. Something she couldn't make out was being said in the background. It was m.u.f.fled by more noise. And then she heard, "Hi, Mom." It was as clear as day, no distortion, no interference. Veronica's heart contracted.

"Casey! Are you all right, baby?"

There was no response. When it finally came, the voice that answered her didn't belong to Casey.

"That's all for now, Ronnie. Mustn't get greedy. You can talk all you want later.

After I have my money. Bring the money to the Amtrak depot on Main Street at noon tomorrow. Put it in locker number 705."

"Tomorrow?" Her heart sank. "Wait-wait!" she cried, afraid the connection would

be broken. "Don't I need a key to the locker?" She didn't want to leave anything to chance. This had to go off smoothly.

"So, you can use that head of yours." Hatred dripped from every mocking syllable.

"You'll find the key taped to the underside of the telephone your hunky boyfriend's blocking."

The connection went dead.

Fighting mounting panic, Veronica quickly felt around under the telephone's frame even before she hung up the receiver. Her fingers came in contact with something and she yanked it away. She held it up in triumph as Chad took the receiver from her and hung it up carefully.

"I got it," she said.

He made no comment. Instead, taking her arm, Chad quickly ushered her back to where his car was parked.

It was only when they were seated inside that he tossed something the size of a book of matches to her. "Hold on to this," he instructed, turning on the ignition.

Still clutching the key in her other hand, Veronica picked up the device that had landed in her lap. She turned it over without recognition. "What is this?'

"Another one of Megan's toys." He spared her a glance as they took a corner.

"We've saved the kidnapper's voice for posterity-and for Rusty to run through his expensive machines to see what he can come up with. My brother's hobby is playing around with audio equipment. Maybe he can find a way for us to figure out just who the man behind the tin voice is." He wasn't sure how that worked without a voice pattern to match it to, but if anyone knew how to do it, Rusty did. "At least he might be able to clean it up enough to get a voice pattern out of it. Maybe figure something out from the background distortions."

She hadn't even seen him put the device on the telephone-or remove it. To be that fast, he had to know what he was doing. "I thought you said you weren't good with technology."

He lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. "I'm not. I just know how to push things into place."

"No ego." She looked at him with quiet interest. "That's rather remarkable, considering what you do and how successful you've been at it." Not to mention that the man was exceptionally good-looking, as well, she added silently, but that was something she wasn't about to give voice to. It was bad enough that she felt it, felt an attraction that couldn't have any place in her life, at least not now. She had no doubt he'd had his share of women make themselves infinitely available to him.

He saw no reason for what he'd just done to have fed his ego. "Not my glory alone. We each work our own cases, but there's always back-up. No room for ego in a team," he told her mildly. There was no such thing as compet.i.tion between them.

Bringing home every missing child they set out to find was the only goal.

Veronica suddenly sat up, straining against her seat belt as she twisted around to look at him. "He called you hunky."

"Excuse me?" It was obvious she'd gone off in a different direction, but not one he could immediately follow.

"The kidnapper." Excitement built in her voice as she followed the thought through for Chad. "He called you hunky."

Stopped at a light, Chad tried to concentrate on what she was saying and not on the way Veronica's b.r.e.a.s.t.s were rising and falling.

"That means he could be a she, doesn't it?"