52

Melissa had listened with mounting fury to Ted’s message suggesting that instead of putting up a five-million-dollar reward for information leading to Matthew’s return, she make it a five-million-dollar donation to the Foundation for Missing Children.

“Can he be serious?” she asked Bettina, her personal assistant.

Bettina, a savvy, sleek forty-year-old with a cap of gleaming black hair, had come to New York from Vermont at age twenty, hoping for a career as a rock singer. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that her reasonably good voice would go nowhere in the music world and instead she had become the personal assistant to a gossip columnist. Melissa had noticed Bettina’s efficiency and offered her more money to work for her. Bettina promptly dumped the columnist who, as she aged, had come to count on her.

Now Bettina’s emotions ranged between sharing Ted’s loathing of Melissa and loving the excitement of being part of a major celebrity’s life. And when Melissa was in a good mood, she would grab an extra one of the expensive gift bags that were meant only for the stars at a concert or awards show for Bettina, while she was getting one for herself.

The minute Bettina walked into Melissa’s apartment at nine o’clock that morning, she had known it would be a long day. Melissa had immediately sprung on her the notion of offering the reward for Matthew’s safe return. “You notice I say ‘safe return,’ “Melissa said. “Almost everybody believes that little kid is dead, so I’ll get some nice publicity and it won’t cost me a nickel.”

Ted’s negative response had infuriated Melissa. Then, when he left the suggestion that she donate the money to a foundation instead, she was livid. “He wants me to give five million dollars to a foundation. Is he crazy?” she asked Bettina.

Bettina liked Ted. She knew how hard he worked promoting Melissa. “I don’t think he’s crazy,” she said, soothingly. “It certainly would make you seem very, very generous, which of course you would be, but you’d need to write the check in front of the cameras.”

“Which I don’t intend to do,” Melissa snapped, pushing back the blond hair that hung almost to her waist.

“Melissa, I’m here to do anything you want. You know that,” Bet-tina said. “But Ted is right. Ever since you and he became an item, you let everyone know that you think his son was abducted and killed by a child molester. To offer a reward for information leading to his safe return now would be begging for nasty comments on the late-night shows and the Internet.”

“Bettina, I intend to make that offer. Call a press conference for one o’clock tomorrow. I know exactly how I’ll word it. I’ll say that while I have always felt that Matthew is not alive, that uncertainty is destroying Matthew’s father, my fiancé, Ted Carpenter. This offer may make someone come forward, maybe someone whose relative or friend is raising Matthew as her own child.”

“And if someone does come forward, you’re prepared to write him or her a check for five million dollars, Melissa?” Bettina asked.

“Don’t be silly. First of all, that poor kid is probably dead. Second, if someone really knew where he is and hasn’t come forward all this time, that person is considered an accomplice of some kind and therefore cannot profit from the crime. Got it? Everybody thinks I’m some kind of airhead, but we’ll get hundreds of tips from all over the world, and every one of them will be mentioning Melissa Knight’s promised reward.”

They were in the living room of Melissa’s penthouse apartment on Central Park West. Before answering Melissa, Bettina walked over to the window and looked down at the park. It all began there, she thought. One sunny afternoon in June nearly two years ago. But Melissa is right. That little boy is probably dead. She’ll get her free publicity and it won’t cost her a dime.