Behind The Mask. Metsy Hingle

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Both as a police detective and as a private agent. It’s the reason I agreed to meet with you when you called—despite your attitude last week. I want my wife back, and I think you’re the man who can find her for me.”

      “For one million dollars.”

      “That’s right,” Webster replied.

      “That’s a lot of money,” Michael pointed out. “No offense, Webster, but I find it hard to imagine any woman being worth that kind of money.”

      “But then you don’t know my wife,” Webster informed him in that smooth, cultured voice that went hand in hand with the man’s thousand-dollar suit, gold cuff links and perfect white teeth. He reached for the photo of an attractive blonde that sat on the credenza and handed it to Michael. “Stunning, isn’t she?”

      Michael had noticed the picture when he’d first come into the room. There was no question about what the man had seen in her, Michael concluded. Despite the demure smile and wistful look in her green eyes, everything about Elisabeth Webster screamed ‘hot sex’—from the long blond hair that tumbled past her shoulders, to the figure-hugging black dress that showcased her curves. Michael allowed his gaze to follow the slashing neckline of the dress to an emerald the size of a baby’s fist nestled between her breasts. At his body’s sharp response to the pale, creamy skin, Michael swallowed hard.

      He dragged his gaze away from the photograph, warning himself not to forget how another knockout blonde with an innocent smile had impeded his judgment, wrecking four lives in the process. He shoved the framed picture toward Webster. “She’s beautiful.”

      “Yes, she is,” Webster told him, his eyes going hot as he stared at the photo once more. “And believe me, she’s worth every penny I’m offering and more.”

      “And your son?” Michael countered, still irritated by his own reaction to the woman and unable to resist prodding the other man from his lustful musings. Besides, except during their initial phone conversation, Webster hadn’t mentioned his son again. “I assume you want him found, too.”

      “Of course,” Webster replied, a trace of annoyance in his voice. “I want you to find both Elisabeth and Timothy.”

      Michael was puzzled by the lack of emotion in Webster’s eyes and voice when he spoke of his son. “Tell me what happened on the day she left.”

      Webster told him about his wife’s depression after having the baby, her mood swings, the tiff they’d had the day before she’d left, and how she’d laced his morning coffee with a sleeping pill and then had run away. According to Webster, the woman had had an emotional breakdown—one which had caused his sweet, gentle wife to flee her husband and home.

      Michael reasoned that chances were, Elisabeth Webster was simply a bored young woman who had grown tired of her rich older husband and had run off. But something about the whole scenario, along with Webster’s story, nagged at him like a pesky mosquito bite. While he might have turned in his badge five years ago, his instincts remained strong. And those instincts were sounding alarm bells now.

      Telling himself that it was Webster’s questionable dealings that had set off his sensors, Michael tried to shake off his misgivings. “What about family or friends? Could they be hiding out with them?”

      “Elisabeth has no family. Just me. As for friends, my wife has always been somewhat of a loner.”

      “You said the other detective had managed to locate her.”

      “Yes, about two months ago in a small town in Arkansas.”

      “And since then?” Michael asked.

      “Nothing. It’s almost as though she’s disappeared from the face of the earth. I’m worried about her. About both of them. It’s the reason I’ve set the reward so high. My wife has led a very sheltered life. She’s not used to dealing with things on her own.”

      “You said she took a lot of cash and jewelry with her when she left. How much?” Michael asked.

      “Nearly fifty thousand in cash. The jewelry was worth probably ten times that amount.”

      Michael whistled through his teeth. If she managed it wisely, that kind of money could keep the missing Mrs. Webster and her son in Happy Meals and modest digs for a long time. “Has any of the jewelry surfaced?”

      “No. The truth is, I doubt Elisabeth would even know how to go about selling it. As I said, she’s led a sheltered life and, because of that, she’s far more innocent in the ways of the world than most women her age.”

      Michael checked himself from pointing out that while Mrs. Webster may look like a fragile flower, the woman obviously had enough grit to rob her husband’s safe and leave him. But then he knew firsthand how deceptive a beautiful woman with a sob story could be. She’d also had enough savvy to elude his detectives for six months. Either that, or she and her son hadn’t been found for another reason. He lifted his gaze to Webster’s. “You know, there’s always the possibility that no one has seen them for another reason.”

      “I’m not naive, Sullivan. I know what you’re suggesting and you’re wrong. Elisabeth is alive. I know it.”

      “If she is I’ll find her. And your son,” Michael added firmly.

      Webster tipped back his head and laughed. “I’ll say one thing for you, Sullivan. You certainly don’t lack chutzpah.”

      “As you said, there’s no need for false modesty.” And there wasn’t, Michael reasoned. Since leaving the police department, he’d earned more than five times his salary as a cop by working as a bounty hunter, a detective, a bodyguard or whatever the occasion called for. Maybe the jobs weren’t all that satisfying or noble, but the money had been good enough to pay his living expenses and provide him with extra cash to help out Janie and the two boys. And a million bucks would enable him to see to it that Janie and the boys’ futures were secure.

      “I’m going to need copies of everything you have on them—including the other detective’s reports.”

      Webster removed a manila file folder from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Michael. “I think you’ll find everything you need in there. Photographs, fingerprints, background information on Elisabeth and copies of the other reports.”

      After quickly skimming the contents, he closed the folder and stood. “I’ll need a retainer.”

      “Of course,” Webster told him, and reached inside his top desk drawer. He drew out a black leather checkbook. “I’ll pay you fifty thousand dollars now and the balance when you find Elisabeth and Timothy.”

      “You’ll pay me two hundred fifty thousand dollars now and the balance, plus my expenses, when I find your wife and son.”

      The smile died on Webster’s lips. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to hand over that kind of money as a retainer.”

      “That’s the deal, Webster. Take it or leave it.” Though Michael hadn’t seen the bodyguard move, he sensed the big man come up behind him. Lightning quick, he whirled around, kicked the gun from the bruiser’s hand and sent the other man to his knees howling.

      “Why, you son of a—”

      “That’s СКАЧАТЬ