Sitting in Hawkins’s office once again, thumbing through papers, Ryan reflected that it had been a very strange day, but he couldn’t help but think that it was actually a good step forward in their partnership. The fact that she had even bothered to talk with him, to listen, told him that she was getting accustomed to having him around. That was progress. It had actually cheered him up, somewhat. Ryan pulled out a new box and flipped open the lid. Sitting on the top, was a brochure for a BMW. It was a gorgeous car. At first, he chuckled, thinking that it was just another one of many examples of Martin’s wishful thinking, but as he thumbed through the pages, he could see notes, prices and selections scrawled on the pages. The handwriting did not look like Martin’s, and Stone would know, he had seen enough examples of it recently. He saw that the colors were circled, and the custom packages were all chosen. As he opened the last page, a receipt slid to the ground. Retrieving it, a little thrill of excitement ran through him. The receipt was for a down payment on this car, made out to a Paul Simmons just 2 days before the kidnapping. The purchaser had put down $10,000 in cash. It looked very much like Andre Martin had somehow put a considerable chunk of cash, that he shouldn’t have, down on this car.
“Hey, Hawkins!”
She was going to love this.
“Did you find something?” she looked up.
“You tell me,” he slid the brochure over to her.
Hawkins looked it over for a minute, and then she grinned broadly,
“This is very interesting.”
“I thought so, too.”
“If Paul Simmons is really Andre Martin, this raises many questions, doesn’t it? $10,000 is a lot of money for a man of Andre’s means. I went over his financials with a fine-toothed comb, and there was no sign that he ever had that much cash on hand,” Hawkins mused.
“So where did he get it?” Ryan finished the thought.
“Good question.”
“You’re thinking it was a payment, aren’t you?”
“Timing fits,” she replied. “When was he supposed to pick up the car?”
“I’ll call the dealership,” Ryan pulled out his cell.
Hawkins pondered the picture of the car in her hands. It looked like he had planned to pay the balance whenever he came back to pick it up. If someone had given Martin ten grand to kidnap the kid, they probably promised him more money after the job was done, which was likely how he planned to settle with the dealership. She didn’t hold out much hope in Martin returning for that car now, but it was at least worth looking into. Maybe the dealership even had a way to contact him. This was a tantalizing piece of evidence in support her theory that Martin and Tompkins were guns for hire. She still needed more proof before anyone would believe it, but any concrete evidence was encouraging.
“Ok, the dealership says that the man they knew as Paul Simmons came in, put a deposit down on the car. They custom ordered it for him the same day. The dealership told him that it would be ready by today and that he could come back and pick it up whenever he had the time. The salesman says he remembered the transaction well, because the man was bragging that he was coming into some money soon, that his life was about to change for the better, all that kind of thing. Dealer thought he must be a lottery winner or something.”
“Do they still have the cash he gave them, by any chance?”
“No, I asked. It’s already been deposited in the bank.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, I know. But he still might pick up the car. The dealership says he hasn’t been by yet.”
“I doubt that he will,” Hawkins sighed. “He obviously didn’t manage to get the cash he was expecting out of that kidnapping, so how will he pay for it?”
“True, but he might at least try to get his deposit back.”
“Maybe,” Hawkins didn’t sound convinced. “But he knows we are on to him, and he isn’t stupid. I doubt he will show. Too risky. Still, let’s send a couple of agents over to sit on the dealership, see if Martin turns up. Have them send over the surveillance footage, too. We’ll confirm that it really was our man.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Sounds good, I’ll get a couple of the guys on it right away,” Ryan stood.
“Alright. I’m going to keep looking through this stuff. Let me know what you find.”
“I’ll be back, this won’t take long. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Wouldn’t that be novel?”
Hawkins turned back and opened another box. Watching her for a moment, Ryan reflected on how glamorous their job could be; then he walked out to get some agents on their first real lead. It had been worth coming back to work today.
The next morning dawned crisp and cool. The sunlight filtering through the windows of Ryan Stone’s car was still pale and watery, as he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. He checked his watch, 7am was sinfully early for him, but Ryan wanted to finally get the jump on his partner today. He probably could have just called with the new information, but he had made an ass of himself yesterday, and he figured that showing a little initiative couldn’t hurt.
The day had ended in frustration; no other leads had surfaced in Martin’s piles of trash and the dealership hadn’t really panned out either. The salesman who’d sold Martin the car hadn’t had anything to add to what he had already told Ryan on the phone. The dealer had also informed them that they would need time to retrieve their security footage, so they didn’t even get to confirm that Paul Simmons was really Andre Martin. Hawkins had disappeared after that, clearly irritated by the lack of progress, and based on the angry phone call he’d gotten from the Toxicology department, he was pretty sure she had gone down to badger them about Duane’s test results, which were still not in.
He had never worked a case with so little evidence before; no one had seen or heard from Martin since the kidnapping, there had been no activity on his credit or debit cards. His phone records were a dead-end too; the only suspicious activity was several calls to disposable cell phones, but they were all untraceable, there was no way to know who he was calling. They were hitting one dead end after another, and the longer it took, the colder the case got and the less likely they were to ever find anything. With that in mind, Ryan had swung by the BMW dealership this morning so he could get that surveillance footage as soon as the manager arrived for the day. Confirming that Martin had, in fact, made that purchase, before they wasted any more time chasing the lead, was important to the investigation and he was keen to see it. So here he was, ready to surprise his partner, for a change. Ryan slammed the car door shut behind him and walked towards the front of the building.
As he approached the door, an attractive blonde in tight, lycra jogging shorts emerged. Grabbing the door, he held it for her, flashing her his most charming smile as she passed. He took a moment to watch her jog away before slipping through the locked lobby door that she’d conveniently opened for him. It saved him having to buzz in and ruin the surprise.
Hawkins opened the door wearing sweatpants and a tank top. Rivulets of sweat were running down her forehead and her short hair was damp and clinging to the sides of her face. Running her fingers through her hair, she raised an eyebrow,
“Come in,” Hawkins swung the door wide and stood aside.
He walked into a room that would, in most cases, be used as a living room, but here it was predominantly occupied by an assortment of fitness equipment, centered around a large heavy bag in the middle of the room, to which Hawkins returned her attention.
“Am I interrupting?” Ryan asked, sitting down on the edge of a weight bench in the corner. Even his place had more furniture than this.
“Yes,” she replied simply. “But I assume you have a good reason. Please don’t prove me wrong.”
She continued working the bag, delivering a series of rapid blows as she spoke. The pugilistic punctuation to her statement made it feel more like a threat than a vote of confidence.
“I thought you might want to see this first thing,” Ryan replied, holding up the DVD he had just retrieved.
“From the dealership?” she asked, her breath coming in short, staccato bursts.
“Yep.”
“How’d you get it so quickly?”
“Oh, I stopped by this morning and extolled the virtues of co-operating with federal agents, as opposed to say, undergoing an impromptu tax audit. The manager was really very understanding.”
“Good. Any sign our Mr. Simmons might still be coming to get his car?” she asked.
“No, looks like you called that one. Our guys haven’t seen anyone matching Martin’s description, and the dealership hasn’t heard from him. But they will keep sitting on the place, just in case.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Hawkins muttered. “Any reason you didn’t just call with this breaking lack of news?”
“Your place was on the way back to the agency. Figured this was important enough to merit a personal visit, and that I could offer you a ride in,” he shot her a boyish grin.
“I appreciate the enthusiasm. But don’t come to my apartment. I like my privacy.”
“Hey, you broke in to my place the other day. At least I knocked.”
“So, this is payback, huh?”
He chuckled,
“Something like that. And I’m nosy, wanted to see the place. It seemed only fair.”
“Sorry to disappoint, nothing too interesting here.”
“It is deceptively normal,” Ryan replied, leaning back against the wall. “Aside from the fact that this weight bench seems to be the extent of your living room furniture.”
“I don’t entertain much,” she deadpanned.
“Never would’ve guessed,” Ryan returned dryly.
“Not like your place is winning any design awards,” Hawkins shot back. Her foot slammed hard into the heavy bag, the chain rattled as it swung violently.
“At least I have a couch.”
“What can I say? I work weird hours and I never have time to get to the gym,” Hawkins stilled the swinging bag with one hand and grabbed a towel from the corner to mop the sweat from her face. “Well as lovely as this little social call has been, I need a shower. I’ll meet you at the office. Make popcorn this time.”