Читать книгу The Prime Objective - Ginna Gray - Страница 10

Kate flipped her cell phone closed. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she turned her gaze out the passenger window. Absently she noticed that they’d reached the northern edge of Houston.

Dammit, she felt so…so frustrated. So helpless. Since leaving Palestine almost two and a half hours ago she’d called her sister eight times. Eight! All with the same result. Nothing. She wanted to scream.

Dammit, Colleen. Where are you? And what have you gotten us into? And why the devil won’t you turn on your phone?

Jack wasn’t helping matters. Beyond an abrupt yes or no or an occasional grunt in response to her attempts at conversation, he had barely spoken to her the entire trip.

Not that she blamed him. He had a right to be angry. It had been unfair of her to end their marriage as she had. And now she’d dragged him halfway around the world, away from his job, and embroiled him in a deadly game of who-knew-what. She had taken shameless advantage of his feelings for her when she had absolutely no right to do so.

But no matter how much guilt she heaped upon herself, she could not see how she could have done anything different. Except to die—a long, lonely death in the case of her marriage, or a quick, violent one at the hands of those men.

Kate sneaked a peek at Jack out of the corner of her eye. As usual, his expression was unreadable. He needed a haircut, she noticed. His normally short hair curled over his collar and the tops of his ears and an errant lock flopped onto his forehead no matter how many times he raked it back with his fingers.

Her gaze ran over his angular face and traced his strong profile. At once she experienced a familiar shiver of pleasure. A lot had changed between them, she thought, but not that. Though she didn’t love him anymore, Jackson Prime was still the most deliciously virile man she had ever met.

Unable to help herself, Kate continued her inspection, her gaze traveling downward over that hard body that she knew so well, skimming over narrow hips and long legs, then making the return trip, eventually settling on his hands, gripping the steering wheel.

She had always been fascinated by Jack’s hands. They were long fingered and wide palmed, large and competent and graceful, in a thoroughly masculine way. Like the rest of him, the skin on his hands was bronze, the backs sprinkled with short, black hairs. Hands capable of great strength and stunning gentleness.

Another shiver rippled through Kate at the memory of how those hands had touched her in the past.

She forced herself to look away and focused again on the gas stations, strip malls and fast food joints zipping by. Her mouth twisted. No, the chemistry between them hadn’t changed. Jack was the only man in the world who could light her fire without so much as a touch.

And whenever he put his mind to seducing her she didn’t stand a chance. She’d always been a sucker for his roguish charm.

Which was the main reason she’d gone about ending their marriage as she had, and why she’d insisted that Jack not contact her after signing the divorce papers. Getting over him had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done. She’d known that she couldn’t risk falling in love with him all over again.

Kate sighed. This powerful attraction had been there from the beginning—from the moment their eyes first met—and time had done nothing to diminish the heat.

But that wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

“Still the same, huh?”

Kate jumped, her gaze shooting to Jack. Dear, Lord! Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? To her chagrin she felt her cheeks burn.

“Wh-what?”

He nodded toward the cell phone in her hand. “No answer.”

“Oh. Um…no.” She felt like a fool and at the same time limp with relief. “Either Colleen has turned off her cell phone or it needs recharging. Like me, she took off from the store with nothing but her purse and the clothes she was wearing so she probably doesn’t have a charger with her. She could pick one up almost anywhere, but since she’s so tight with money and she doesn’t want to give me a chance to talk some sense into her anyway, my guess is that she hasn’t.”

“Hmm. Speaking of her spending habits, you wouldn’t happen to know how much money she has with her, would you?”

“No. Why?”

“Because being on the run gets expensive. She’ll have to start using credit cards before long. They leave a paper trail. If you know which cards she has I may be able to use my credentials to get that information from the issuers.”

“Colleen doesn’t have credit cards anymore. The ones she used to have were in Ed’s name. After she filed for divorce he canceled hers.”

Kate huffed. “The jerk. Like she was going to run up a monster bill on him. Colleen wasn’t the big spender in that marriage.

“Anyway, ever since the split she’s been on a ‘cash-only’ basis.”

“Then we’re screwed. And so is she. She’s not going to be able to hide out for long unless she has a wad of money in her purse.”

“Ha. That’ll be the day. Trust me, Colleen was broke the first time she stopped for gas. My sister considers fifty dollars a big bankroll. Whenever we go out together for lunch I always have to lend her money because she refuses to carry a lot of cash.” Kate thought for a moment. “Although…she does have a debit card on the store account.”

“All right. Now you’re talking. That could be even better than credit cards.”

“But, Jack, I’ve never known her to use it. She keeps it just for emergencies.”

“Trust me, this situation qualifies. So…is her personal bank account healthy?”

“My guess would be, not particularly. Ed used to control their finances—big surprise—and kept her in the dark.” Kate’s jaw clenched. “Even now, when I think of how she turned over her salary and every penny of her share of the profits from the business to that lazy bum it makes me furious. She was so…so…cowed by him.”

“Don’t be so hard on her, Mick. Colleen isn’t like you. She doesn’t have your spunk. Anyway, considering the abuse she took from Baxter, you can’t blame her for doing whatever it took to survive.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that I wish—”

“Hey, wishing won’t get us anywhere. Let’s deal with what is.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” She sighed and returned to the subject. “It was only after Colleen filed for divorce that she found out how reckless Ed had been with their money and how close to the wire they had been living month-to-month. Apparently he spent every dime they made.

“I still can’t figure out where all their money went. Even factoring in the big house and fancy cars that Ed just had to have, they still should have had plenty of cushion. The store has been doing really well for years, what with the boom in the housing market.”

“Maybe our boy Ed’s a closet gambler,” Jack offered. “Or maybe he’s been keeping another woman on the side.”

“Oh please.” Kate did an eye-roll. “Surely there can’t be another woman gullible enough to fall for Ed’s slick line. What a depressing thought.”

“Agreed. But it’s possible.”

“I guess. Anyway…since Colleen’s been living with me she’s been trying to build a nest egg. Nowadays, except for what she needs to cover bare living expenses, every dime she brings home gets socked away.”

“Socked away where?”

“Oh, in mutual funds, money market accounts, her retirement account. That sort of thing.”

“Where it’s not easily accessible. Good.” At the freeway interchange, Jack exited Interstate 45 and took the 610 Loop west around downtown Houston.

“Why is that good?”

“Think about it. If she doesn’t have credit cards and her personal account is puny and she’s not in a position to draw from her investments, what other source would she have?”

“Ah, I see—the store’s operating fund.”

“Bingo. Every debit card transaction is recorded, of course, so there’s still a paper trail, but information on those accounts is closely guarded by banks.

“If the bad guys really do have cops and agents on their payroll it’s still going to take a court order for them to gain access to those records, and no judge is going to grant that kind of order without a damned good reason.”

“What if they claim that Colleen was kidnapped?”

“They’d have to have some sort of solid indication of a kidnapping to convince a judge—a ransom note, a recording from a tapped phone, something like that.

“At the very least they’d need a missing persons report filed by a family member. In this case that would be you since you’re next of kin. But even if they forge one it may not be enough. In the eyes of the law, a person going missing doesn’t necessarily mean a crime has been committed. An adult is free to walk away from his or her life if they choose to do so.”

“Colleen would never do that.”

“I know that and you know that, but a judge won’t.

“That’s not to say whoever is behind this couldn’t get a court order eventually. Although, my hunch is they’re more likely to bribe a bank employee to pull the records for them. Trust me, if they don’t find you and Colleen soon they will go after that information any way they can. Hopefully, we’ll get there first. Which is why the bank is going to be our first stop.”

For over eighty years the Mahaffey’s Interiors account had been handled by Alamo National Bank. As one of the bank’s oldest and most valued customers Kate, along with Jack, was ushered into the office of the bank president, Oscar Hurley, without delay. If their unscheduled arrival had been an inconvenience or in any way disrupted Mr. Hurley’s day it was not evident from his effusive greeting.

“Ms. Mahaffey. How nice to see you, again. Please, come in, come in,” he exclaimed. He stepped out from behind his desk and strode across the enormous Oriental rug with his hands outstretched, meeting her in the center of the large room.

A big man with a shock of silver hair, a stately bearing, a good-ole-boy smile and shrewd eyes, Oscar Hurley looked every inch the Texas gentleman.

Clasping her outstretched hand between both of his, he gave it a pat and smiled. “This must be my lucky day.”

Usually whenever Kate or her sister came to the bank to do business they dressed to impress in heels and sophisticated suits and a tasteful piece or two of Kate’s jewelry. If Mr. Hurley was surprised by her casual attire he had the grace and good manners not to let it show.

Kate introduced Jack, and the men shook hands. Though Mr. Hurley and Jack had never met, the banker knew perfectly well who he was and that their marriage had ended, yet once again he concealed his curiosity and didn’t question why they were together.

“Please, won’t you sit down?” the banker asked when the greetings were over, waving toward the maroon leather Queen Anne chairs in front of his desk.

Mr. Hurley’s corner office was the size of a small house. Around the oversize Oriental rug, dark, wide-planked wood floors glowed with a patina of age and care. The two inner walls of the office were lined with thick, walnut paneling while the outer two were made up mostly of floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows, framed by heavy brocade draperies that could be drawn closed when needed. From the high, coffered ceiling hung an enormous bronze and etched crystal chandelier that looked as though it had come out of a medieval castle. The smell of old leather and lemon polish pervaded the air. Everything about the room screamed money. And power.

When they were settled Mr. Hurley returned to his seat behind the massive desk, folded his hands on its shiny surface and smiled. “Now, then. What can I do for you?”

Kate and Jack exchanged a look and, as they had agreed in the car, Jack did the talking. “We have a serious problem and we need your help. You see, two nights ago…”

Jack launched into an edited version of the chain of events that had brought him and Kate there. In the beginning Mr. Hurley’s expression showed polite interest, but that quickly morphed into shock and concern, then genuine horror.

“Why, that’s terrible. Colleen actually witnessed a murder? That poor child. She must be terrified.”

“Yes. And running scared right now. Which is why we are anxious to find her. Kate called on me for help because I have the skills and experience to keep her and her sister safe and investigate the situation. However, let me stress to you, sir, that in order to do that it is imperative that we keep this quiet and out of the newspapers.”

“Yes, of course. Rest assured, what you’ve just told me will not leave this office,” Mr. Hurley pledged. “However, I’m not clear on how I can be of help.”

“Kate and I are certain that Colleen has very little cash with her. Soon she’ll need to get her hands on some. My guess is she’ll use her debit card on the Mahaffey’s Interiors operating account. As co-proprietor of that account, Kate has full access. With help from you, we hope to track Colleen’s movements by the locations of her purchases.

“Which is where you come in. We want you—and only you—to keep us informed of the location of each and every activity on the account as soon as they are electronically posted.”

Half expecting the banker to hum and haw and quote some nitpicking banking regulation, Kate was surprised when, without the least hesitation, he swiveled his chair to face the computer on the corner of his desk.

“Excellent idea. Why don’t you come around here and look over my shoulder and we’ll get started.”

Kate shot to her feet and hurried around the desk and Jack followed right behind her. At last they were doing something that might lead them to Colleen. Or at the very least, point them in the right direction. She was so anxious her heart pounded against her ribs.

In his sixties, Mr. Hurley was of Kate’s father’s generation, and Joe Mahaffey would not have touched a computer if you had held a gun to his head. She had expected the banker to share the same aversion and call his secretary into the office to retrieve the data, but the older man’s fingers flew over the keyboard with a speed and agility that surprised her.

“Ah, here we are.” The account record filled the screen and he began scrolling down. “Let’s see, now, you wanted to start last Saturday after seven in the evening. Ah, here it is. At 8:11 p.m. there was a charge of $47.24 at a gas station in LaGrange, Texas.”

“LaGrange?” Jack frowned in thought. “She must have gotten out of town on Interstate 10 then turned north on Highway 77 at Schulenburg. Looks like she’s trying to avoid the main roads. Probably worried they’ll be watching those.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder at him. “Will they?”

“Depends on how much manpower they have, but anything’s possible.”

“Just a little over an hour after that, at 9:30 p.m., there was a charge of $229.34 at the Wal-Mart in Giddings,” Mr. Hurley went on.

“Clothes and toilet articles would be my guess,” Jack murmured. “Maybe some food.”

“Just fourteen minutes after that, at 10:44, there’s a charge at a Giddings motel.”

Jack glanced at Kate. “Is there any reason why she would go to Giddings?”

“None that I can think of.”

“Any friends there?”

“I don’t know of any.”

“Hmm.”

“Maybe she’s heading for Austin,” Mr. Hurley suggested. “Giddings is on Highway 290 between Houston and Austin.”

“It’s possible. It could also be that at that point she didn’t yet know where she was going. Most likely she was in shock. Considering how fragile Colleen is, she probably just lit out of Houston like a cat with its tail on fire and drove without any thought as to where she was going or how she’d get by. Could be by this point she was simply too tired to keep going.”

Mr. Hurley scrolled down the screen. “You may be right. She’s not heading for Austin. Sunday morning at 10:22 she charged gas in Brady, Texas.”

“She’s still sticking to the back roads,” Jack muttered. “Smart. You keep it up, darlin’.”

“The next charge is at 6:45 Sunday evening. She filled up with gas in Big Springs, Texas,” Mr. Hurley continued. “Twenty minutes later she made a purchase at a fast food place, and seven minutes after that she checked into a Big Springs motel.”

“And—” He scrolled down the screen. “—that’s it. So far today there’s been no activity on the account.”

“Do you have a map handy?” Jack asked.

“Hang on a second.” Mr. Hurley rummaged through the middle drawer of his desk and after a moment withdrew a large leather-bound, ringed binder. “There are detailed maps of every state and all the major cities in here, along with a clear plastic overlay and a dry ink pen so you can plot your route.”

He gave them a wry smile. “This was a gift from my grandchildren last Christmas. They seem to be laboring under the mistaken idea that I’m going to retire soon and take their grandmother on an extended cross-country driving trip. Here. Take it.”

“Oh, no, we couldn’t take your gift,” Kate said when he handed the notebook across the desk to Jack. “We’ll pick up a map at a bookstore.”

“No, please, take it. Trust me, my dear, you’ll get more use out of it than I will. Just between us, I’d rather be burned at the stake than take a long driving trip.”

The discussion turned to strategy, and they agreed that Mr. Hurley would check the account frequently and call them with the information. After the three exchanged cell phone numbers, Kate and Jack left the bank.

Kate practically sprinted to the car. Once inside she expected Jack to start the engine immediately, but he sat motionless, staring straight ahead, deep in thought. Unable to contain herself, she snapped, “For Pete’s sake! What are you waiting for? We need to get going.”

He turned his head and fixed her with his steady blue gaze. “Going where?”

“After Colleen.”

“Not yet.”

“What! But—”

“Look, Mick, she has almost a two-day head start on us.”

“All the more reason to go after her now, before she can widen the gap.”

“Okay, say we go to Big Springs. Then what? From there she could have taken off in any direction. She may even be doubling back by now.”

“She could just as easily have decided to hole up there,” Kate argued.

“Maybe. Although I doubt it. My gut tells me that she’s still panicked and running aimlessly. My hope is that soon she’ll calm down enough to devise a plan and head for a specific destination.” Jack started the engine and put the SUV in Reverse. “But, if you’re right and she is staying put we’ll know it the next time she makes a purchase and Mr. Hurley relays the information.”

“And if she’s left Big Springs?”

“Then we continue to track her movements.”

“But, Jack, Colleen is out there all alone and terrified.” Kate’s voice broke on the last word and she had to press her lips together to keep them from quivering.

These past two days she’d been worried sick about Colleen, but now that she had a general idea of where her sister was, she was more anxious than ever. All she could think about was finding her. Protecting her.

Though Colleen was older by twenty-two months, Kate had always protected her.

In the second grade Kate had whaled the tar out of a little boy who had made her sister cry, and in their teens she’d hovered over her like a broody mother hen, double dating with her, confronting anyone who dared to bother her.

The pattern had continued through the years. As teenagers, Kate had been the rebel child, the daredevil who’d given their parents more than a few gray hairs. Colleen had been the docile, obedient one.

Even so, Joe and Maureen Mahaffey had worried no less over their eldest daughter. All of her life Colleen’s painful shyness made her cling to the familiar, the safe.

After high school she had gone directly into the family business, claiming that for her, college would be a waste of time because she could learn all she needed to know from their father and on-the-job experience. Privately, Kate believed that the idea of going away to a strange university, in a strange town, where she knew no one, had simply been more than her sister could handle.

Over the years, no amount of prodding or confidence-boosting pep talks or assertiveness training or therapy had brought Colleen out of her shell.

The only place she was remotely comfortable making decisions was the family business, which she knew inside out. Yet even there, ever since their parents had died and she had assumed the position of manager, more often than not, she still sought Kate’s opinion.

Looking out for her sister had become an ingrained part of who Kate was, and even though Jack’s reasoning made sense, the need to head west was eating her up inside.

One glance at Kate’s anguished expression and Jack brought the SUV to a jolting halt, backed halfway out of the parking slot. He reached across the space between them and cupped her wobbly chin. “Take it easy, Mick,” he murmured. There was so much tenderness in his eyes and deep, gravelly voice that the tears she was struggling to control spilled over. Solemnly, he wiped one away with his thumb.

“Look, sweetheart, I know it’s tough to wait, but it makes no sense for us to go chasing after Colleen until we know, or at least have a fairly good idea, where she’s heading. When we do, we’ll go after her. If we use a direct route and drive straight through we shouldn’t be too far behind her.”

“Why not fly? We’d catch up with her faster.”

“Because we can’t take our guns on a commercial airline, and from what I saw last night, we may need them.”

She winced, fear skittering down her spine. She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t, and after a while her shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I guess we don’t have a choice but to wait.”

“Good. I’m glad you agree. In the meantime, I think we should check out the scene of the crime.”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness! The store! I’ve been so concerned about Colleen that I forgot all about the store. The staff must be going out of their minds wondering what happened to us. And my assistant is probably wondering where I am.” She drew a deep breath and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “You’re right. We should check it out. It’s probably locked up, but I have my keys with me, so we can get in.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on whether the CSI team has finished gathering evidence. It could still be cordoned off with crime-scene tape.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Kate closed her eyes. “Oh, dear. What has happened to Bobby?”

“If the police haven’t found his next of kin or no one has come forward to claim the body, he’ll be at the morgue.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Kate moaned. “Poor Bobby. Colleen and I are the closest thing to family that he has. I should be planning his funeral.”

“There’ll be time for a funeral later, after we’ve straightened things out and all the smoke and dust has settled.

“Right now, it’s first things first. And our next stop is Mahaffey’s Interiors.”