He told himself he didn't want the neighbors listening to their private conversation.

Pushing the door shut again, Chad glared at the man who had both given him life and then destroyed a good part of it by what he'd done, not only to him but to the rest of his family. "Well?"

Jerome's breathing became more rapid, more labored. Perspiration popped out on his brow. Chad was moved by none of it.

"I never meant to hurt you, Chad. I..." Lost for words, for coherent thought, the man searched for both. "Divorce is an ugly thing. Your mother should never have left me. Never taken all of you away from me. I was trying to change, but she wouldn't stand by me." The excuses fell lamely from his lips, lips that had once been able to spin fanciful stories, trapping the listener. "It was your mother I was trying to get back at."

"Well, congratulations, you succeeded. And got two for one along with it. Quite a bargain." Chad shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly seized with the desire to throttle the man who had caused everyone such grief. "Not hurt me?" he repeated incredulously, staring at his father in utter wonder. "Not hurt me? What the h.e.l.l did you think telling me that my mother, my little brother and sister had been killed in a car accident was going to do to me? Make me snap my fingers and say, 'Oh well, we can always get another family any time we want one'? Your little fantasy ripped the heart out of me!" he shouted.

Chad wrestled with the desire to throw his father out. Frustrated, he dragged his hand through his hair. He had some things to throw together if he was going to keep his promise to Veronica. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing here, anyway?"

Jerome's voice quavered slightly, then grew stronger as he made his request. "I came to ask you to forgive me."

Chad stared at him. The man had to be kidding. After what he'd done? Crossing to the door, he opened it again. "Okay, you asked. The answer's no. Now get the h.e.l.l out of my apartment."

Jerome made no move to leave. "Chad, I need to have you forgive me." In a desperate gesture he grabbed Chad's arm. "Please."

Disgusted, wanting to feel nothing but contempt, instead of the beginnings of pity, Chad yanked his arm away. His father stumbled backward, clutching his chest.

A gurgling sound came out of his mouth as he stared at Chad, wide-eyed. (Chad glared at him. He wasn't about to be taken in by any theatrics. He'd seen and heard too many of them in the two and a half years he'd been separated from the rest of his family. Promises made by his father as he swore off alcohol. Promises made to turn into something other than a weekend drunk who became mean at the first buzz.

Promises as empty as the cans of beer that piled up on the living-room floor.

Chad waved a dismissive hand at his father. "Save the dramatics. They don't work on me anymore."

But when he looked, his father was still holding his chest, what little color there'd been in his pasty face draining. The next moment Jerome Andreini crumpled to the floor.

Now what?

Chad bent over his father, instinctively inhaling, checking for the smell of alcohol. There was none, but that didn't mean he wasn't intoxicated. Chad shook his father's shoulder impatiently.

"Get up, old man."

But the watery eyes didn't open. The breathing continued to be labored. With his forefinger and thumb, Chad opened one eye and saw the pupil was unfocused. His father had lost consciousness.

"d.a.m.n."

On his knees beside his father now, Chad felt for a pulse at the side of the man's neck. It was barely perceptible. Working quickly, he tried to remember the correct order of things from the CPR cla.s.s he'd taken more years ago than he could recall. Hands on top of one another on his father's chest, Chad counted out the beats, pressing on each one. On five, he blew into his father's mouth. Nothing happened.

Annoyed at the edge of fear that began to sc.r.a.pe along his nerves, Chad repeated the procedure. Still nothing. "C'mon, old man, open your eyes. You're not doing this. You're not dying on my floor tonight."

Five minutes ticked by before his father came around and opened his eyes. His breathing still labored, he tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Save your breath." It astonished Chad how easily he could pick his father up and place the man on the sofa. Taking his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed 911.

Finished, he tucked away the phone, then looked at his father, discomfort pushing its way forward. "I think you might have had a minor heart attack."

The older man seemed to be fading into the sofa's cushions, the very personification of exhaustion. A spidery hand that had once been so powerful covered his chest as if the gesture was entirely new to him.

"The old ticker don't work as well as it used to. That's why they let me out earlier." An ironic smile moved the corners of his mouth. "That, and good behavior." He tried to raise himself on his elbow to look at Chad, but failed. "I'm dying, Chad."

He'd just about had it with the tricks, the deceit. "What are you talking about?"

Jerome seemed to struggle to get his thoughts together. "Docs gave me six months.

Maybe eight for good behavior." He smiled thinly. "That's why I've got to make amends." He reached for his son again, not making contact. "Make you forgive me."

It was a trick, another ploy by a man who was the master of deceit. Chad wasn't about to be taken in by it. There might be a sucker born every minute, but he'd done his time.

"Lie still. The ambulance'll be here in a few minutes," was all Chad could make himself say. Absolution wasn't within his power to give. Not with all the anger that was still in the way.

Because he called her, Megan came quickly, alerted by the tone of her older brother's voice before he'd even explained the reason for his call. She arrived at Harris Memorial Hospital ahead of Rusty. Her husband, Garrett, had wanted to come with her, but instinct told her this was something best kept simple for the time being. Chad was the one she was worried about, and she knew he would want the number of witnesses until this was sorted out kept to a minimum.

"They say it's his heart," Chad told her by way of a greeting.

"I know."

Their eyes met for a minute. She'd been his best friend when they were children, though he wouldn't have admitted it then. He'd taken her "death" particularly hard.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Megan touched his face, wishing she could somehow press peace into his soul. "I figured he would once he found you. I didn't want you having extra baggage getting in your way. You've still got enough."

He saw Rusty walking toward them. "Look, I'm on that case..."

Megan understood. She nodded, her smile encouraging. "Take off. Rusty and I can hold down the fort, do whatever needs doing. No sense in you taking up s.p.a.ce here."

She touched his arm. "Go take up s.p.a.ce somewhere else. I'll call you if there's a reason."

He should have left then, but he lingered a moment longer until Rusty joined them. "Call me to let me know," he instructed.

Megan nodded.

"You look terrible."

Veronica stepped back, opening the door wider. The man she had first seen at ChildFinders had been austere, formidable in his bearing and his presence. While still that, the man on her doorstep now looked drawn and just the slightest bit shaken.

"Bad evening," was all Chad said as he walked in.

He still wasn't entirely certain what he was doing here, even if she had asked him to come. Part of him felt it wasn't a good idea. Still, something inside him was glad he had promised to come by. He wasn't sure if he could handle being alone with his thoughts right now. Or even what his thoughts were.

By all rights, he knew he should hate his father, hate what the man had done without regard to the repercussions. But the image of the man, old beyond his years, lying on his sofa clutching his chest, had taken the bite out of his hatred, leaving him with feelings he needed to sort out.

But not now, not tonight.

Closing the door behind him, Veronica tried to make sense out of his expression.

She was almost afraid to ask, but she'd never been one who didn't face up to things, no matter what they were.

She caught his arm as he pa.s.sed her. Chad looked at her questioningly. "Is it about Casey?" she asked.

Realizing belatedly how she would take his tense comment about his evening, he cursed himself for frightening her. "No. Nothing new. Rusty still has some cleaning up to do on the tape we got of your conversation with the kidnapper, but he thinks there might be kids in the background."

"Kids?" She tried to process the information, making sense of it. "You mean Casey might not be the only child that was kidnapped?"