Bounty Hunter Ransom

“What is it?” Aubrey asked nervously.

“Looks like a copy of the document Patti’s boyfriend signed, giving up his parental rights. Was she having trouble with him?”

“Not recently. Besides, that voice on the phone didn’t sound like Charlie, although…I guess he could have been disguising it. The voice was kind of hoarse and whispery.”

The murmured voices inside the office got louder, and the doorknob rattled. Beau quickly closed the drawer and scooted out from behind the desk. He pretended to study a picture on the wall of a clown when Greg Holmes’s office door opened.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know,” said the older of the two men who emerged from the inner office. He wore a suit—cheap and ill-fitting—and sported a determined five-o’clock shadow. His thinning hair was styled in a comb-over.

He vigorously pumped the hand of the other man, who was younger and kind of punk-looking, with ratty clothes and a scraggly beard.

The older man, whom Beau assumed was Greg Holmes, stopped suddenly. “Who are you?” he asked in a startled voice, his beady eyes focusing on Beau.

“Summer told us we could wait here,” Beau said affably.

The punk looked a little nervous. He made for the exit, as if he didn’t want to prolong any conversation with strangers.

“Summer knows better than to let customers sit in here unattended,” he muttered angrily. Beau thought he was rather inhospitable for an insurance agent. For all Holmes knew, they could be in the market for millions of dollars’ worth of life insurance.

“I’m Patti’s cousin, Aubrey Schuyler,” Aubrey said with a smile, extending her hand. “She’s told me so much about you, Mr. Holmes.”

Holmes softened a bit. Who could blame him? When Aubrey turned those liquid green eyes on a man, he couldn’t help but fall in line with her wishes. He gave Aubrey’s extended hand a grudging squeeze. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “She’s been gone all day. I was starting to get worried about her.”

“We don’t know where she is,” Beau said, extending his hand. He introduced himself as a friend of the family. “We were hoping you might shed some light on the situation.”

“Why would I know anything?” Holmes asked, suddenly defensive. “She’s just an employee. I don’t know anything about her personal life.”

Beau thought the man’s reaction was just a bit too emphatic. “People who work together all day long often know more about each other than their own families,” Beau said.

“Look, she answers my phones and does a little typing. I don’t spend significant time with her. I’m much too busy with clients to socialize with the receptionist.”

Beau thought Greg Holmes had just taken a giant step back from I was starting to get worried about her. Maybe he wanted to hide the fact he’d been sleeping with her. He wore a wedding ring.

“She apparently got a phone call this morning that alarmed her,” Aubrey said gently. “We wondered if you knew who—”

“Why would I know who?” Holmes said, even more agitated. “I don’t listen in on my receptionist’s phone calls.”

“Do you have a caller ID?” Beau asked.

“No. What right do you have—”

Beau held up his hands to slow Holmes’s rampage of words. “Easy, easy. We don’t have any right at all. We’re just asking, and of course you can refuse us. But the sooner we locate Patti, the less likely the cops will come here looking for the same thing we are. Only, they’ll have a warrant.”

Aubrey gripped his arm. She obviously didn’t like the sudden escalation of hostility.

Holmes backed down slightly. “I don’t have any way of knowing who called.”

Aubrey handed Holmes a card. “That has my cell number on it. Will you let me know if you think of anything, or if anyone else calls or comes by looking for Patti?”

Holmes took the card and stuck it in his jacket pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get home. My wife isn’t feeling well.” He ushered them out, then watched until they got into their car and left.