Where There's A Will

Chapter Twenty-Five

"...how would me being here have made any difference? It's not like she was kidnapped here."

Stone entered the Keating house to find an argument in progress between Owen Keating and a young man, whose resemblance to Keating led Stone to assume he was the as yet unseen son, Ryan. What had caused the argument, he couldn't guess, and he doubted it had any bearing on his investigation, or his efforts to rescue Alice Keating from those who had taken her.

Not wanting to get in the way of arguing family members, Stone skirted the foyer and made his way into the library. As important as the ransom note was, he didn't think just then was the moment to bring it up.

"I know that, but I've been trying to get hold of you all afternoon and evening. Where have you been?"

"I was out, having fun. What does it matter?"

"You're always out having fun," Owen snapped at his son. "You should have been here; your mother needed your support, she needs it now. You can't tell me you didn't get the message I left on your answerphone, but you're too selfish to think of others. Alice would have been here if the situation was reversed."

"Why'm I not surprised you're comparing me to her, to your precious Alice."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Owen wanted to know.

"Why don't you just come out and say it; you wish it was me that was kidnapped instead of Alice. She's your perfect little girl, and I'm just the screw-up you'd be happy to be rid of."

Though he was in the library, and had closed the door behind him, Stone could still hear the argument going on between father and son. He tensed involuntarily at the telling silence from Owen Keating, which stretched on uncomfortably for several long moments.

"Go on, father, admit it, we both know it's the truth," Ryan urged his father. "You wish I'd been kidnapped, not your perfect little Alice."

"What do you want me to say?" Keating asked of his son, a weary note in his voice, audible to those in the library, though they tried not to listen.

"The truth!" Ryan told him.

"Yes!" Owen Keating snapped. "I wish it was you they'd kidnapped. You've been nothing but trouble since Alice was born, and you just keep getting worse. It doesn't seem to matter what your mother and I say or do, you go out and do whatever the hell you want, and you don't give a damn who gets hurt, or how much I have to pay to keep you out of jail." His voice rose as his anger grew, and it became clear he was voicing things he had been holding in for some time. "Do you have any idea how much it's cost me this year alone?"

"A fraction of what you're going to pay to get your precious Alice back, I'm sure."

"I don't yet know how much her kidnappers want for her release."

"You'll pay it, no matter how much it is. You wouldn't pay a penny for me, though, would you." Bitterness filled Ryan Keating's voice. "You've had no time for me since Alice arrived. You just shoved me off to one boarding school after another, and the further away the better. The only time you pay attention to me is when I get in trouble, and even then, you're more concerned with limiting the bad press and protecting your business than you are with me.

"Hell, even when I got my degree you were more concerned about me getting drunk the night before the ceremony and crashing my car."

"How long has that been going on?" Stone asked of Evans, who was doing something on the laptop that controlled the equipment he and his assistant had set up. Stone was sure he wasn't actually doing anything, and was merely pretending, so it wouldn't be obvious he was listening to the argument.

"Ten, fifteen minutes," Evans answered. "It started the moment Ryan Keating got here. I'm not even sure how it started, though I'm sure the son's been drinking and that contributed to it. As far as I can tell," he said, revealing that he had been paying more attention than appearances suggested, "it's a continuation of something that's been going on for a while. It seems Ryan Keating is a bit of a selfish bugger," Evans kept his voice low so he wouldn't be overheard by the arguing father and son, "who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself, and he's on the verge of losing his allowance and being written out of the will because of it.

"That's based on me reading between the lines, I could be entirely wrong, but I don't think I am."

Stone raised an eyebrow at that but had no opportunity to respond to what Evans had said; the argument in the reception hall ended abruptly and the library door flew open as Keating strode through. He paused for a moment, his hand on the door, to take several deep breaths and calm himself, and then he closed the door behind him.

"Inspector," he approached Stone, "was it the ransom note that your constable found?"

Stone nodded. "Yes, I've sent it to the lab to be checked for fingerprints and DNA."

"What did it say?" Keating asked, searching the inspector's face for some clue.

"Not much," Stone said, thinking that if nothing else, the argument with his son had returned some of the colour and animation to Keating's face – he no longer looked as if he had just had an encounter of the spectral kind. "It didn't say anything about where or when the ransom is to be paid, all it said it is," he took the copy he had made out and opened it, "they want three and a half million Euros, in five hundred Euro notes." He paused to look up at Keating and asked, "Are you able to get hold of that much?"

Keating considered the question for a few moments before he nodded sharply. "Yes, I can get it," he said. "I'm not sure how long it will take the bank to arrange the money, though, a couple of days at least, I'd guess, especially since they want Euros not pounds. Why do you think they asked for Euros?"

Stone had thought about that when he first read the ransom note so he was able to answer straight away. "Most likely because they can ask for higher denomination notes, which means the money will take up less space and be easier for them to transport."

"I guess that makes sense. I'll have to speak to the manager when I go to the bank in the morning. I just hope they can organise the money before the kidnappers want it."

Standing on the other side of the door to the library, Ryan Keating listened as his father accepted the price of his daughter's freedom with no sign of being unwilling to pay the money. He had known his father would be able to afford the ransom, when the demand was received, but hearing him accept it with barely any thought, when he protested every request for money from him, angered Ryan. He forced himself to resist the urge to kick open the door and confront his father, knowing that it would accomplish nothing.

He turned away from the library and stomped upstairs, where he made his way into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.