her grandson. After all these years it was almost impossible to believe she’d lost them both.
Rick had possessed such charisma, such vitality that it was still hard to imagine him gone. Always lighthearted, he’d also inherited a stubborn streak tough as Charles’, though he was very much like her own grandfather in looks and temperament. The only difference was that Michael Riley had been an Irish bootlegger who had never made an honest dollar in his life.
She and Charles had spoiled Rick rotten, given him too much money and the freedom to do whatever he wanted. As a result, they thought he would never settle down.
Then out of the blue, one day when he was twenty-eight and had just returned from Japan where he had been overseeing a branch of Saunders Shipping, he shocked them with the announcement that he was going to marry.
Then he proceeded to explain that he’d had an affair with some waitress in the desert, a young woman who had given birth to his child. He had been determined to marry her.
Looking back now, she wished Charles hadn’t been so furious with him, wished that she had listened more and objected less, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him throwing his life away over some wretched creature who had obviously set out to trap him.
He showed them some snapshots he’d taken of the girl and the baby, insisted she and Charles look at the photos. She’d only taken a fleeting glance at the child’s mother. One quick look told her that the girl was nothing more than a cheap slut with short, yellow, spiked hair, made up like a hooker.
Charles had immediately blown his top. Before Rick had stormed out, he demanded they “get with the program” because he was bound and determined to marry the girl no matter what his father said.
Anna rubbed her thumb over the glass in the picture frame. She’d never laid eyes on the baby. All she had was this one fading photo of Rick and the boy that he had tossed on the table the morning he’d left home to drive out to Borrego Springs to pick up Caroline Graham and her baby and bring them home.
After Rick died, Charles offered to pay the girl almost any sum she could name for Christopher, but Caroline disappeared.
Charles became obsessed with getting Christopher back. His determination to find the boy drove him right up to the end of his life, kept him alive months longer than the doctors had predicted when he was first diagnosed with cancer. His anger and frustration ate at him as voraciously as his disease, and even as he lay dying, he made her promise that she would never give up, that she’d find Christopher and bring him home.
When she thought of what might be happening to that poor little boy, her blood ran cold. It was far too easy to imagine Caroline Graham moving from one seedy motel to the next, living hand to mouth. Anna would never understand why a young woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain had turned down their more-than-generous offer in the first place.
For a long time, Charles had hoped Caroline would get hungry and desperate and contact them. Anna suspected the girl had probably snared another wealthy man and was no doubt married and living under another name. That might explain her complete disappearance.
Not even Alexander and Perry, the well-touted and highly regarded investigative firm that Charles had hired, had ever found a solid lead.
Anna looked down at the crystal tumbler in her hand. Slivers of ice cubes floated in half an inch of gin and tonic. She shook the glass, swallowed the last of the cocktail as she headed down the long hall to a master suite bigger than most apartments.
It was nothing compared to the rooms she and Charles shared in their estate overlooking the bluff on Ocean Boulevard. They had set up a nursery there in expectation of finding Christopher. Blue and white, complete with a crib and a rocker, the decorating had been done by one of Long Beach’s top designers.
She had scaled down after Charles
Rick had possessed such charisma, such vitality that it was still hard to imagine him gone. Always lighthearted, he’d also inherited a stubborn streak tough as Charles’, though he was very much like her own grandfather in looks and temperament. The only difference was that Michael Riley had been an Irish bootlegger who had never made an honest dollar in his life.
She and Charles had spoiled Rick rotten, given him too much money and the freedom to do whatever he wanted. As a result, they thought he would never settle down.
Then out of the blue, one day when he was twenty-eight and had just returned from Japan where he had been overseeing a branch of Saunders Shipping, he shocked them with the announcement that he was going to marry.
Then he proceeded to explain that he’d had an affair with some waitress in the desert, a young woman who had given birth to his child. He had been determined to marry her.
Looking back now, she wished Charles hadn’t been so furious with him, wished that she had listened more and objected less, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him throwing his life away over some wretched creature who had obviously set out to trap him.
He showed them some snapshots he’d taken of the girl and the baby, insisted she and Charles look at the photos. She’d only taken a fleeting glance at the child’s mother. One quick look told her that the girl was nothing more than a cheap slut with short, yellow, spiked hair, made up like a hooker.
Charles had immediately blown his top. Before Rick had stormed out, he demanded they “get with the program” because he was bound and determined to marry the girl no matter what his father said.
Anna rubbed her thumb over the glass in the picture frame. She’d never laid eyes on the baby. All she had was this one fading photo of Rick and the boy that he had tossed on the table the morning he’d left home to drive out to Borrego Springs to pick up Caroline Graham and her baby and bring them home.
After Rick died, Charles offered to pay the girl almost any sum she could name for Christopher, but Caroline disappeared.
Charles became obsessed with getting Christopher back. His determination to find the boy drove him right up to the end of his life, kept him alive months longer than the doctors had predicted when he was first diagnosed with cancer. His anger and frustration ate at him as voraciously as his disease, and even as he lay dying, he made her promise that she would never give up, that she’d find Christopher and bring him home.
When she thought of what might be happening to that poor little boy, her blood ran cold. It was far too easy to imagine Caroline Graham moving from one seedy motel to the next, living hand to mouth. Anna would never understand why a young woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain had turned down their more-than-generous offer in the first place.
For a long time, Charles had hoped Caroline would get hungry and desperate and contact them. Anna suspected the girl had probably snared another wealthy man and was no doubt married and living under another name. That might explain her complete disappearance.
Not even Alexander and Perry, the well-touted and highly regarded investigative firm that Charles had hired, had ever found a solid lead.
Anna looked down at the crystal tumbler in her hand. Slivers of ice cubes floated in half an inch of gin and tonic. She shook the glass, swallowed the last of the cocktail as she headed down the long hall to a master suite bigger than most apartments.
It was nothing compared to the rooms she and Charles shared in their estate overlooking the bluff on Ocean Boulevard. They had set up a nursery there in expectation of finding Christopher. Blue and white, complete with a crib and a rocker, the decorating had been done by one of Long Beach’s top designers.
She had scaled down after Charles
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