Mr. and Miss Anonymous. Fern Michaels

becoming sure was correct. “Those youngsters originated in this…this place. Now, where are the old files?”

      The woman started to wail. “I told you, I don’t know. I just collect the specimens, keep the records, and create the files. And I pay the donors. That’s the total of my job description. I’m sure you’re wrong about what…what happened at that school.”

      “What do you do with the files, say, for the past month?”

      “A courier picks them up the first of every month. There weren’t many lately. Spring is always a slow time. Actually, both spring and early summer are slow.” Ina was babbling now, her face mottled with fear.

      “Do you call the courier, or does he just show up?” Pete asked.

      “He comes on the first Monday of every month. I always have the package ready for him. He signs a slip and leaves. I have no idea what he does with the files or who he gives them to. I wouldn’t …I wouldn’t work for a firm that wasn’t ethical. What you’re implying is absurd.”

      “Where are the donations?”

      “That’s none of…”

      Winston growled.

      “In the clinic. There are two nurses back there who handle the specimens. Talk to them.”

      “I will. Where is the emergency number you call if something goes awry?”

      “What…how…?”

      “Winston.” The one word was a command the shepherd acted on.

      “All right, all right.” Jones rattled off a number that Pete committed to memory.

      “Call the number now and tell that person there are two people here demanding their donor information because they say that information has something to do with the shooting at the school.”

      Ina Jones sighed as she picked up the phone.

      “Speakerphone, please,” Pete said.

      The woman pressed a button. A rich baritone invaded the room. Winston’s ears perked up as he tried to figure out where the voice was coming from.

      “This is Ina Jones at Unit Four.” Pete watched as the woman kept her eyes on Winston. “There are some…there are two people and a killer dog standing right here in the office who are asking for their donor files. He said…he said their…donations have something to do with that private school shooting. Here,” she said, thrusting the phone at Pete.

      “And you would be who?” Pete asked coldly. “Me? I’m Donor 8446. My friend is Donor 1114. The dog doesn’t have a donor number. Police? That’s probably the best idea I’ve heard all day. If you don’t call them, I will.” Pete listened, his expression stoic. He finally interrupted the rich baritone. “Scratch the police, I think the FBI would be a better bet. Yeah, well, that was then, and this is now. You led me to believe I would be helping childless couples back when I made those donations. The media said the kids gunned down at that school were orphans. Right off the bat, you people lied to me, and you probably lie to every other donor who walks through these doors. I saw my kid at that massacre, and I sure as hell am going to want a DNA sample.”

      Pete turned to Lily when the telephone unit emitted a high, keening sound. “The bastard hung up on me!” His eyes accused Ina Jones, who clasped both her hands over her heart, fear showing in her eyes.

      Lily reached down to scratch the shepherd’s head. She could feel his huge body tremble against her leg. Clearly, the dog was reacting to the stress in his master’s voice.

      “If there’s anything you know, anything at all, this would be the time to tell us.”

      “What…what…you said just now… Is it true? Was one of those boys your son? How…how can you know that for sure?”

      “I know,” Pete said. “He’s one of the ones who got away. At least I think he got away. What if anything do you know about that private school?”

      “I don’t know anything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This is just a run-of-the-mill job. There’s no stress, the pay is decent, and it provides good benefits. It’s an eight-to-six job, with plenty of time for me to catch up on my reading.”

      “Where does your check come from? Who pays the bills? Who signs those checks?”

      Tears were rolling down the woman’s mottled cheeks. “I don’t know who pays the bills. I assume some management company. My check and those of the staff come by UPS overnight every Friday. I hand them out. The bank is First Sovereign here in town. I can show you my check since I haven’t deposited it yet. I was going to do it yesterday, but I didn’t get to the bank on time.”

      “Let’s see the check,” Pete said.

      Ina bent down to open one of the desk drawers to get her purse. She pulled out her check and handed it over. Pete eyed the amount, then the signature, which was illegible. It didn’t matter. The bank would have the signature on file. He copied down the account number. “Nice pay for a receptionist—$980 a week clear after deductions.”

      “I’m also the office manager,” the woman said defensively.

      “You pay the donors in cash. Where does that money come from?”

      “It…it’s in a separate envelope with the payroll checks. I get cash twice a month. I have to keep meticulous records. We don’t have a petty cash drawer. If I need to buy a lightbulb or something, I have to use my own money, get a receipt, and I’m reimbursed with my check.”

      “How many people work here?”

      “Right now, two nurses. In the fall and winter, when we’re really busy, it can be as many as three doctors and four or five nurses. Six-hour shifts. None of them are friendly.”

      Lily decided it was time to weigh in. “What do you know about the fertility clinic?”

      “Absolutely nothing. I’m not lying,” Jones said at Lily’s skeptical expression. “The fertility clinic is totally separate from the sperm bank. There’s a full staff over there, and the only reason I know that is I see them coming and going. They never come in here, and I’ve never been over there. That is the God’s honest truth. I don’t believe this is happening,” Ina wailed dramatically.

      “You’ve been here eight years, you said. During that time do you remember anyone coming here who might be involved in the company? Think carefully. Did you ever hear the doctors or nurses say anything that might help us?”

      “No. Never. This is really a boring job. It’s the same thing every single day. The routine never changes. Like I said, fall and winter are busy, with more donors coming through the doors.”

      “Where are the personnel files?” Lily asked.

      “I don’t know.”

      Pete knew there was nothing more to gain from interrogating Ina Jones. He picked up the CD he’d copied and stood up. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Jones. You can call the police now if you want to. I’d call that number I just called before you do that, though.”

      Ina Jones started to cry. She was dabbing at her eyes when the phone rang. The trio looked at one another. “Answer it and use the speaker button,” Pete said.

      “Berkeley Sperm Bank,” Ina said in a jittery voice.

      The rich baritone snarled a greeting. “Are those people gone? What did you tell those people?”

      Ina closed her eyes. “They’re gone, and I didn’t tell them anything because I don’t know anything. I told you, they had a killer dog with them. They copied everything that was on the computer. I quit. I’m leaving right now.”

      “You will do no such thing. Do you hear me?”

      Pete’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the threatening tone he heard coming from the speakerphone.