In unison, they left via the sliding glass door that led to the small private yard at the back of the cabin.
Two interior doors opened into the two bedrooms, and inside the cabin, everything had been meticulously stowed; there were no panties tossed on the bed or half-full water bottles.
Miss Lee gestured to one of the burgundy leather great chairs that sat on either side of the fireplace. “Sit down, Petie.”
Petie sat.
Miss Lee did not. “Go on.”
“It’s been over ten years since your son disappeared, and in the world of kidnappings, that’s long enough for similar cases to occur.” Petie opened her briefcase and handed a photograph to Jeen Lee. “Do you recognize this woman?”
The bright red polish on Miss Lee’s nails contrasted with the shadowy black and white of the security-camera image. “She was my son’s nursemaid. She committed suicide after the kidnapping. It was a matter of honor.”
“That picture was taken last year in Belgium.”
Those bright red nails bit into the paper. “Impossible. I identified her body in the morgue.”
“Yet here she is. The Belgian child she was caring for disappeared and, upset by the disgrace, this nursemaid committed suicide.”
Jeen Lee veiled her dark eyes. “You’re saying this is a similar case?”
“I’m saying the nursemaid runs a scam whereby she steals the child of wealthy parents, coordinates the kidnappers’ demands and when the money comes through, she sells the child for additional cash. She then pretends to commit suicide to avoid interrogation. When the money runs out, she rises from the dead to commit a similar crime. In the case of your son—”
Miss Lee struck with the swift grace of a serpent. She leaped, gripped a fistful of Petie’s hair, gripped her chin and dug those nails into the tender skin at her throat. “Are you saying my son is alive?”
The fist gripping Petie’s hair tightened, and tightened again, as the sharp end of Miss Lee’s nails threatened to cut into Petie’s jugular.
Petie closed her eyes, took two deep breaths, opened her eyes and looked into the frigid depths of Jeen Lee’s eyes. “I know your son is alive, and where he is, yet if you kill me you will never know.”
“You’ll tell me everything.”
“You’ve made a mistake, Miss Lee. I’m not afraid to die.”
Jeen Lee’s nail bit into the skin, slicing a small opening.
The wound burned. Blood trickled toward Petie’s collarbone.
Petie kept her gaze on Miss Lee’s obsidian eyes, shiny, ruthless, reflecting a pit of hell Petie recognized. Abruptly, something shifted in Miss Lee’s face; it was as if the glacial ice disintegrated beneath a flood of hope. She released Petie and stepped back, hands held up in the universal gesture of surrender. “I wonder what you’ve lost to be so careless of your own life.”
“Everything.” Petie dabbed at her throat. “Like you, I’ve lost everything.”
Miss Lee pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Petie.
Petie pressed it to the cut. Now that the moment had passed, she knew she would rather not die from the slice of a fingernail across her jugular. “Shall we start again? I heard about your son’s kidnapping. I investigated. I found the woman who had been his nursemaid and had committed similar crimes with similar results. I went looking for your son.”
“Did you find him? Did you find Hugh?” Miss Lee allowed emotion into her choked voice, or maybe she couldn’t stop it.
“Yes. He lives with—is considered the son of—a family of farmers in the United States, in Wisconsin. He attends school. He works on the farm. He appears to be loved.” Petie flipped to an album titled “Hugh,” and handed her tablet to Jeen Lee.
Miss Lee stared at the first image, a current school photo, stared so long Petie wondered if she had died where she stood. Finally Miss Lee enlarged the photo, scanning the boy’s face. “Fourteen. Hugh is fourteen. He doesn’t look like me. He looks like his father.”
Petie couldn’t remark on that; she had no idea who the boy’s father was. “His name is now Andriy Kishnir.”
Miss Lee looked up in horror; that he would have a new name hadn’t occurred to her. “Of course.” She flipped through a few more pictures. “Is he... How are his grades?”
“He’s a highly intelligent young man with an exemplary school record.”
“He looks healthy.” Miss Lee darted a questioning look at Petie.
“He seems a normal adolescent. Colds. Flu. I found one hospital stay for a broken elbow. It required surgery. A few visits to the doctor for stitches.”
“He was always an active boy. I took him skiing in Switzerland not long before he disappeared. He ripped down the steepest mountains. I feared for him. I didn’t realize where the true danger lay...” Her demeanor shifted from mother to businesswoman. “No one ever demanded a ransom. Why not?”
“I don’t know that. I focused on finding your son, nothing more.”
“Someone paid her to take Hugh and let her keep the money from the sale. Someone who wanted to disrupt my work.”
“Or someone who thought you were too focused on your child.”
The breath hissed between Miss Lee’s teeth. “I will kill him.”
Petie knew who Miss Lee suspected. Petie suspected him, too. Jeen Lee’s father, a cold man who had turned his business over to his daughter while watching her every move. He had taught her ruthlessness, and she had learned well. Now he was in his seventies; Petie doubted he would get much older.
“What about Hugh’s... What about the people who care for him? Are they...good people?” Miss Lee seemed to be fumbling for the right things to ask. “Wealthy? Moral? Forward-thinking?”
“They’re not wealthy. From all appearances, they’re moral and forward-thinking. They had no children of their own, and he wants for nothing.”
“Does he remember me?”
Ah. The question that Miss Lee had truly wanted to ask. “I do not know.”
As if to contain the pain in her heart, Miss Lee put her hand on her chest. “When he was taken, I feared two things. I feared he was dead. I feared he cried for me in the night. At least I now know he’s not cold in the grave. Thank you for that.” She handed Petie her tablet, picked up a small bag, pulled out her phone and called in her plane. “What is his location?”
Petie handed her the boy’s current address.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Miss Lee said, “I’ll be back. If this is a trick, you should get your affairs in order. If it is not, then I owe you whatever favor you ask.”