Free Mr. And Miss Anonymous by Fern Michaels

to speak to your superior. Or if that’s plural, we can handle that, too. Today is not a good day to try my patience.”
    “I can’t help you. There’s no one here but the staff. All communications are done via computer, fax, or phone. I don’t even know who owns this clinic.”
    The young man in the IZOD shirt, a panicked expression on his face, raced out the door and didn’t look back.
    “Now, see here, you cannot be interfering with our business. I’m going to call the police. Right now!”
    Pete shrugged. Winston growled.
    “I’m going to need a contact number. You won’t mind if I use your computer, will you? A yes would go a long way in keeping Winston happy.”
    “Obviously, I can’t stop you, but this will all go in my report to the police. This is highly irregular. We go through channels here. We do not deviate. That’s why we’ve been in business all these years.”
    “I totally understand,” Pete said as he opened the door to enter the receptionist’s lair, Lily right behind him. Within minutes he was in another world, clicking away at the speed of light. He spoke once. “Where are the old files? Where are they archived?”
    Winston growled, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
    “I don’t know. I swear to God I don’t know. I’m allergic to dogs and dander. I’m also afraid of dogs.”
    “You should work to overcome those fears,” Lily said. “I’d also consider another line of work if I were you.”
    The receptionist gaped at her. It was Lily’s turn to shrug as Winston offered up his paw. The woman ignored it. Winston growled. He offered up his other paw.
    Lily said, “I think if I were you, I’d shake his paw.”
    Tentatively, the woman touched the big dog’s paw, then withdrew her hand as though she’d just touched a snake. Winston barked happily.
    “What you’re doing here is illegal,” the woman said. Suspicion ringing in her voice, she addressed her next comment to Pete. “Don’t I know you?”
    Pete half-turned in his chair. “I doubt it. People say that about me all the time. Now, which one of these e-mail addresses is for the person you have the most contact with?”
    The receptionist pursed her lips. “I’m not telling you anything. Furthermore, I signed a confidentiality agreement when I was hired. I have no desire to be sued. I need this job and the benefits.”
    His face buried in the computer, Pete said, “Winston, take care of it.”
    Before the woman could gasp, Winston had her arm in his mouth and was leading her toward Pete. He gently released her arm when Pete said, “Thank you, Winston.” The big dog took up his position next to the receptionist.
    Pete swiveled around and locked his gaze on the woman, whose nameplate said she was Ina Jones. “Listen to me very carefully, Ms. Jones. I want my old donor records, and so does my friend,” he said, pointing at Lily. “I never take no for an answer. Having said that, I now want to give you a heads-up on what’s going on. I’m sure you saw the news and the massacre at the boys’ school.” Pausing for a second, Pete continued by laying out for the frightened woman what he was increasingly 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.