Texas Ransom

“Yes, but I didn’t really see anything. There were too many people around.”

“Doesn’t matter. The cops are going to want to talk to you anyway. They’ll want to talk to everybody who was in that room.”

“I understand that, but I’m looking for my wife,” Graham explained. “I just want to make sure she’s all right. She came down a few minutes ahead of me. I need to know if she left the building before I arrived.”

“Not likely. HPD has the place surrounded. Nobody’s allowed in or out.”

“She may have gotten out before the lockdown. You saw her earlier when we came in. She’s wearing a red dress. Tall, slim, brunette. Very attractive. She may have had a man with her.”

The guard gave Graham a curious look. “She didn’t come through the lobby. I’m sure I would have noticed.”

“What about the other exits?”

“The front entrance was the only one open tonight. The others were locked for the evening. And even if they weren’t, I monitor all the exits from the console. I would have seen her, regardless.”

“Maybe you stepped away from your desk for a moment. Went to the bathroom or something.”

“Been right here all night.”

The guard was starting to get a little impatient, and if Graham wasn’t careful, he might not get anything else out of him. “Look, could you just please check the surveillance recording? It won’t take long.”

“I’m not authorized to do that.” The guard’s voice noticeably chilled. “Besides, I’ve already told you. Your wife didn’t come through the lobby. She didn’t leave the building through the front exit or any exit. I would have seen her. If she left the party upstairs with some guy, maybe they’re just having a cozy little chat somewhere in the building.”

He started to turn away, but Graham grabbed his arm. “Wait!”

The guard jerked away from Graham’s grasp. “Hey, take it easy, buddy. The feds are in control now, okay? I couldn’t help you out even if I wanted to. Now back off before I call a cop over here and have him personally escort you upstairs.”

The guard’s agitation attracted the attention of two men standing nearby. One was tall, thin and impeccably dressed in a dark suit while the other was shorter, stockier and more rumpled. But they both wore buzz cuts and the unmistakable air of federal authority.

The taller one said something to his partner and then strode over to where Graham stood with the security guard. “Something wrong here?”

His tone was low and amicable, but his eyes glinted with steel. He had the look of a regimented man, from his precisely knotted tie to his spit-shined loafers, and Graham knew instinctively that the guy was not someone he’d want for an enemy.

“I’m Special Agent Delacourt with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He flashed his ID and badge. “What seems to be the problem?”

The guard spoke before Graham had a chance to. “This man says his wife is missing. He wants to look at the security tapes so that he can see if she left the building.”

The hard eyes turned back to Graham. “When did she leave?”

“She wasn’t feeling well earlier. She came down for some fresh air. I just want to make sure she’s all right,” Graham said.

“You have some identification?”

“Of course.”

While Graham fished his wallet out of his jacket, the security guard said helpfully, “He’s the architect who designed this building.”

Delacourt cocked his head. “That right?

“Yes. My name is Graham Hollister.” He handed his driver’s license to the agent.

Delacourt glanced at it briefly, then called his partner over. “Becker, you still got that guest list HPD’s circulating?”

The shorter agent strode toward them. “What’s going on?”

“See if you can find Graham Hollister on it.”

While his partner scrutinized a sheet of paper, Delacourt refocused his attention on Graham. “You were at the reception when the shooting occurred?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“No. There were too many people around. The only thing I saw was the ambassador lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Do you know anything about his condition? Is he going to be okay?”

“We don’t know yet. Did you notice anything unusual before the shooting occurred?”

Graham didn’t like the way Delacourt was looking at him. It was almost as if he suspected Graham of something. “A waiter dropped a tray of glasses right before it happened. It caused a commotion.”

Delacourt and Becker exchanged glances. “Anything else you can think of?”

“Not right offhand. Like I said, it was crowded and I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Graham Hollister’s on the list all right,” Becker confirmed.

“He says he’s the architect that designed the building,” Delacourt said.

Becker’s brows rose. “Oh, yeah? That’s convenient.”

“Isn’t it?” Delacourt turned back to Graham. “We’re going to need you to come with us.”

Graham frowned. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Delacourt and Becker exchanged another glance. “No one is suggesting that you did.”

“Then why do you need me?”

“We’re going to search this building from the ground up. You can save us a lot of time by going over the blueprints with some of our agents.”

“But—”

Delacourt gave him the hard look again. “Maybe you didn’t understand me. No one is leaving here until we’ve searched the entire building. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can get out of here and go find your wife.”

The last thing Graham wanted was to be tied up for hours, but he didn’t have a choice. He nodded wearily and followed the agents across the lobby.

Chapter Three

Graham had been sequestered for nearly three hours with a team of FBI agents, State Department officials and HPD officers when Delacourt came in suddenly and announced that he was free to go.