The man was not what Burch expected. Still another unlikely match for Natasha. It seemed they all were. Short, swarthy, and pudgy, Asher wore what appeared to be a permanent five o'clock shadow and an expensive suit that looked as though he'd slept in it. His office was in a modern ten-story building, one of a dozen in a busy light-industrial complex sprawled around a huge man-made lake stocked with tropical fish and swans. Employees could stroll, jog, or simply take in the view during breaks and lunch hours from promenades and park benches along the water. A plain, pale-haired woman smiled from a family photo prominently displayed on Asher's desk. Two small children were enfolded in her arms. A teenage girl sat next to them, her head on her mother's shoulder. All resembled each other. Behind them stood a beautiful dark-haired girl who resembled none of them. Age nine or ten, she was a miniature version of Natasha, complete with attitude and a built-in pout. She stared at the camera with sly amusement.
