Ginna Gray - The Prime Objective

“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.