He called Tanner’s social worker and recorded every shred of information he was willing to give about where he’d come from and where he might go. He called his security team and a private investigator. If the boy was still in New York, one of them would find him. He instructed his secretary to forward all calls directly to his phone. When he finally set his phone aside, he realized he’d been a one-man show for three curious cowboys. They were sprawled in the surrounding cream-colored leather seats as confidently as if they’d been born to such luxury. It would take more than money and fancy vehicles to impress this group. They were assessing him by what he was doing rather than what he owned, and Charles realized that he respected them for it. He looked around at the sleek interior of the aircraft. It used to be important to him. He’d needed to show himself that he’d made it. But he no longer gave a damn about any of it.
