Then he checked all the windows and stepped onto the back patio and looked out at the small garden. It was a nice-enough place, if you weren’t raising a family, but he would want more room and space from his neighbors if he had a choice. He stepped back inside, not sensing anything wrong out there, and headed upstairs.
One door was closed, and he presumed that was Joshua’s room. Nico was still uneasy about Joshua, and it had been a little too convenient to have him show up as Charlotte’s brother. But the Mavericks chat window had sent photos and confirmation that Joshua was who he said he was, so Nico was willing to put that to rest.
At least for the moment, as long as Joshua was on the right side of the law and wasn’t a hired gun for the adopted family. That would be a stretch, wouldn’t it? But it was also very convenient placing.
Nico shifted, looking into the empty spare room, and walked over to a window to check the world outside. But it was dark, and, outside of the city lights up and down the street, there wasn’t a whole lot to see. Charlotte’s door was also closed. But he opened it and poked his head in to make sure that she was sleeping here. She had pulled back the covers with just a sheet over her. She laid stretched out with one long and shapely thigh gleaming in the moonlight. He swallowed and quickly shut the door.
As he made his way back downstairs, he put on the teakettle and grabbed some lemon from the fridge and made himself a bracing hot lemon drink. He preferred some alcohol in it, but tonight wasn’t the night for that.
For the next hour, time seemed to pass slowly. But he didn’t really notice as he leaned against the countertop and mulled over the options here. Waiting for people to be picked up was more than irritating. It was daytime in Australia. Surely the cops had some news. He went back to his laptop and quickly asked again if they had heard anything from their Australian counterpart about locating the birth parents, and the chat window came back with a no. He swore, then typed into the chat box, asking, What’s taking so long?
Hang on, the chat box texted suddenly. And just then his phone rang. It was Miles.
“What’s up?”
“They just found the birth father. He hasn’t had anything to do with his son since he lost the battle to keep him. He’s now a businessman and had figured that maybe his son would contact him when he was an adult. But, more or less, he just remarried and has a new family and hadn’t so much ignored the fact that he had a son but had realized there wasn’t anything he could do about that situation, so it was put to rest.”
“But did he know his son was dead?”
“Yes, and he was sad about that, but he didn’t seem to be too upset.”
“What kind of business is he involved in?”
“Import and export.” Miles’s tone was dry.
Because, of course, that covered so much and not necessarily good or bad. “Does he own a helicopter?”
“No, he doesn’t own one, but he does lease several for business purposes.”
“And has he ever leased from Sky-High, like the helicopter on the top of the hotel building?”
“Yes. But then he also said that he uses several other companies as well. The report we got says that that was checked, and he does lease or use the services of other pilots as well.”
“So it could have been his chopper rental up there, but Charlotte’s kidnapping could have had nothing to do with him.”
“Exactly.”
“The birth mother?”
“He has no idea. He hasn’t seen anything of her in a long time.”
“Define a long time.”
“He says since their son’s death. They both attended the funeral from a distance.”
“Ah, that’s why the adoptive family didn’t see them.”
“Yes.”
“And he says there’s been no real contact since then?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have any idea where she is?”
“He didn’t say so. He said he had an old phone number for her. He did give it to us, and, when we called it, a message says it’s been disconnected.”
“Of course it has. So he doesn’t know if she’s alive or dead?”
“No.”
“Interesting. So the father is not likely, but we can’t rule him out because of the helicopter connection and because of his business.”
“Exactly.”
With that, Nico hung up and wrote down notes, and, just when he was done, Keane sat up.
“Did I hear that correctly?”
“Yes,” Nico said, “but we’re still trying to track down the birth mother.”
“Are you thinking that Charlotte’s assistant was the mother?”
He looked at him and said, “I like that as an idea, but now we have to prove it. Do we even know if the ages work?”
“I don’t know that either.”
Nico quickly typed it into the chat window. When the answer came back, his eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. The father is young, considering the boy died three years ago at the age of eighteen, making him born twenty-one years ago now. The father’s only forty now. Apparently his son was born when the father was about nineteen, when the parents were both teens, I presume. That was one of the reasons they lost custody.”
“So she is?” Keane asked.
A text beeped and Nico checked it out. “Thirty-seven,” Nico said, now that that answer had come through.
“And Maggie the assistant was how old?”
He looked at his partner. “Charlotte said the grandmotherly type.”
“Which could mean anything. Do we also know if she wore a disguise and how good she might have been with makeup?”
He sat back, thinking about it. “It’s a whole lot easier to look older than younger. Let me talk to the landlord.”
“Good luck with that. Did you check the time?”
He swore. “Yeah, that won’t work, will it?” But then he thought out loud, “I’ll ask Miles for some ID on
