Situated in the corner of a strip mall, Nathan’s office was lit up inside, but the large sign announcing “Walker Securities” was dark. Rosie’s motorcycle was parked in front, flanked by an older car and a van.
When I pushed the front door open, you would have thought I was Santa Claus with a bag of presents instead of a lady with a box of food.
“How did you know we’d be here?” Polly asked. “You don’t have a key, do you?”
“No.”
“So how were you going to get in?” Her pretty face scrunched up in a confused expression. She knew everything there was to know about any electrical device. She was as high-tech as they came. But until she’d spent some more time in her skin and out in the world, she wouldn’t be able to understand the concept of gut instinct. Disconnecting, swimming freestyle, going rogue. But she’d learn.
“They were afraid to call you too early,” Rosie started as she rushed toward me, “but I told ’em Katie will probably be here before us. Then I remembered you don’t have a key, so I got my butt outta bed.”
“I think she slept here last night,” Brock said, taking the box from me. “’Cause when I got here an hour ago, that hog of hers was out front. Sure glad to see you, Katherine.”
“What happened to all your hair?” I asked. “Last time I saw you, you had a beard and lots of hair up there.” I pointed to the top of his head.
He rubbed his bald head. “It was a hot summer. An’ I needed a change. Ya know?”
Recognizing the lettering on the box, Polly looked pleased. “Caldwell’s Bakery—they’re the best.” The small dog she held in her arms barked. “You remember Herbie, don’t you, Kate?” The adorable pooch had been rescued by Polly from a testing lab.
“Of course I do.” I scratched the dog behind one of his fluffy ears.
We all walked to the large desk in the reception area. The only thing on its surface was a pile of pamphlets listing various products and services Nathan’s company offered. Brock put the donuts down, and the rest of the crew rolled their chairs over.
“Let me get Herbie settled, and then I’ll bring some coffee,” Polly said as she headed over to a pet bed in the corner. “I’ve been spending every minute here. It’s put my schedule out of whack. The poor pooch gets frightened when I’m not home at night. If the boss knew I brought him here—”
“It’s okay, Polly.” I smiled and sat down.
I could feel fear rippling off all of them. After years of dealing with crime victims, I thought I’d gotten used to tension-filled rooms. But this was something entirely different. This time I was personally involved, not just an impartial observer.
“Where’s E.T.?” I asked.
“He’s got a meeting out at the library. Some of their computers went missing. Sad, huh?” Rosie asked. “A library has to have surveillance? Those kinds of places used to be safe when there were just books inside. But not no more.” She shook her head. “Poor guy ain’t doin’ too good since the boss ain’t here.”
“E.T. would have a fit if he knew we had these.” Polly put a coffeepot on the desk and held up a stack of Styrofoam cups. “Bad for the environment and all. But who has time to wash cups all day, every day? Certainly not the men around here, that’s for sure.” She raised a pierced eyebrow and looked sternly at Brock.
When everyone had a full cup and a donut in front of them, there was no more avoiding the subject. I got the feeling they were embarrassed; the three of them seemed almost ashamed they had needed to call me.
“Today’s day three that Nathan’s been missing—three work days,” I began. “You saw him on Friday, and today’s Wednesday. Of those five days, we only know his routine in this office. There’s no way we can account for what he does on the weekend or at home. But it isn’t like Nathan to miss three days of work. Correct?”
They nodded.
Polly brushed long bangs out of her eyes. “But of course, we’re all worried that he’s been in trouble all five days. He could have been kidnapped or . . . hurt . . . right after work on Friday. Or he ran into someone on Saturday, or . . .”
“For now, let’s stay with what we know, okay?” I looked around the table. Everyone nodded glumly. “Was everything okay on Friday? Did Nathan look good? Did he seem upset about anything? Angry?”
“Same as ever. He was his old self,” Brock said.
“Can one of you get me some paper and a pen?”
Brock jumped up and grabbed a legal pad off a nearby desk. Rosie took a pen out of the drawer in front of her.
“Here’s what we know: Nathan’s been missing for three days. His house hasn’t been tossed, right?”
“Right,” they said together.
“Where’s his car?” I asked.
“Not here,” Rosie said as she grabbed another donut. “And not at his house. We checked the garage, walked around the block, looked in every yard and driveway in the area. No sign of it.”
“How did you guys get inside his house in the first place? Did Nathan give you a duplicate set of keys?”
Everyone sat quietly until Rosie spoke up. “Come on, Katie, you know there ain’t a lock I can’t pick.” She shrugged and cracked a smile. “It’s what I do.”
Nathan told me once that it was the reason he’d hired her. Even after learning she had a criminal record—petty theft, breaking and entering—along with known connections to some unsavory characters, he added her to his crew.
“Polly, have you found his phone? There’s a GPS chip in all of them, right?” I asked hopefully. “That means we can track his location or the last spot he was when he made a call.”
She moved uncomfortably in her chair. “Sorry, but it’s not exactly like you see on those crime shows. As a person moves over a long distance, their device switches from tower to tower. We could narrow down a location to a wide area, but a single reading won’t give an exact location.”
I tried not to show my disappointment. “Well, at least we have a place to start, right?”
Polly nodded. “Mr. Walker met with three clients last Friday. We contacted all three and found out he made every appointment. But he always comes back to the office at the end of the day to do his paperwork. He didn’t do that on Friday.”
“To be honest, none of us was here neither,” Brock said. “None of us gave him a thought. Then he didn’t show on Monday. Tuesday—nada. Somethin’ bad happened or he’d be here.” When he turned away from the table, I thought the big guy was going to break down.
Trying to draw attention away from Brock, I continued. “I’ll need the files on those clients. And any others who have made complaints or caused trouble.”
They all rolled their eyes and nodded. “Mr. Waterton,” they said in unison.
“Nothing’s ever good enough for that bastard,” Rosie told me. “He’s been a pain since day one.”
“His mother died last year, and he got a bundle in insurance money,” Polly said. “E.T. spent a whole day with him, suggesting the most effective units and where they could be placed that wouldn’t mess with the decor. Finally, it was agreed that our number five security package would be the best.”
“But he wasn’t satisfied,” Rosie said as she smoothed back her pompadour. “Nothing could ever satisfy him.”
Polly agreed. “Nothing. He must have called here at least four times a day. Oh, at first, he was nice and polite. But after a week, he turned into a demanding monster. I don’t know how the boss kept his cool.”
“Looks like I’ll need his file, too. Hard copies would be so much easier for me to work with.” I had run out of patience years ago with computers controlling working hours. Or sending my progress off into a black hole, forcing me to waste time duplicating my work. No, paper never let me down. Give me a nice, clean manila folder, and I’m a happy camper.
Polly got up and wiped her fingertips clean. “I’ll get those right away. But you don’t honestly think that a little old man, a man who came in here using a walker, could hurt the boss?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t have to raise a finger. His money would do all the work. You’d be surprised how cheap a criminal goes for these days. But let’s not get distracted. We have to concentrate on motive. Who would have a motive to harm Nathan?”