Reginald Hargreeves Novels & Stories

"If we are on the truth-telling side of things, let me ask you this. When last have you looked into finding Conan?" Reginald's eyes grew wide. Nostrils flared. Sweat formed on his brow as he waited for more to go off of. Or for his brain to catch up with him. Swallowing, he opened his mouth. "You know I have been looking tirelessly for the last several years! Lately, it hasn't been in the front of my mind. I have more pressing things to worry about." He explained poorly. I narrowed my eyes into slits. Let my distrust of him shine through. He had always been a terrible liar. Even now, so close to his death bed.

"The investigator said —" "I know what the investigator said." She looked at him steadily. "Then stop counting his texts." Before he could answer, Regina crossed the room toward them. She was smiling, relaxed in a way she almost never was at exchanges — no armor, no careful distance. "He told me," she said. "About the call from the Hargrave relay contact." She looked between them. "He came to me two nights ago. Told me the whole thing — that Sienna reached out to his former colleague, that there'd been calls, that he didn't understand it but wanted me to know."

Martin Hargrove,a name I vaguely recognized from Boston business circles, though I couldn't immediately place the context. "Hargrove is a fixer," Alexander said quietly, his attention shifting to me. "He resolves 'problems' for Boston's elite through methods that occasionally skirt legal boundaries. If he's involved, your father's concern may have some legitimacy." The admission seemed to cost him considerable effort,acknowledgment that my father's warnings might not be merely manipulation but genuine protective concern. I felt strangely disoriented, the carefully constructed narrative of our situation suddenly complicated by dimensions I hadn't anticipated.

He became more eager to go home early to see his little wife. __________________ "Have you searched the area where they lived?! And where the fuck is that daughter of his? Don't stop searching for a clue until you found her!" A man in his 40s wearing a suit, a man with a dignified appearance and looking young despite his age this man is the narcotics head in the police department of Country L or LDEA (Country L Drug Enforcement Agency) Director General Gregg Haley.

Even if I'm not told in details, at least I should know a few things instead of being left in the dark. “Oh, so sorry about that.” Reggie said, turning to me with an apologetic look in his eyes. “Colin and I used to be detectives in the New Orleans federal police corps. And he—” “No, no. Don't say that.” Colin said, shaking his head as well as his index finger. “If you are going to talk about capturing the serial killer who targets elderly men and women, then you should give yourself the credits for that. I helped out, but you did all the job.”

Leo stared at the screen like it was a living thing. The numbers, the coded messages, the transfers—they weren’t just random; they were a map. A trail of a man’s ambition, and his weakness. Sir Reginald Sterling, the golden boy of international football, the man everyone called charming and untouchable, had a secret. A quiet, insidious weakness that could ruin everything.

Well-dressed in the unremarkable way of someone who understood the value of being invisible in a crowd. "Who are you?" I said. He stopped at a conversational distance. Smiled. "You should have left the past buried," he said. I looked at him. At the face. The face I knew.... Not from a meeting, from a photograph. A very detailed photograph, assembled from a very specific archive, run through a facial recognition tool I maintained for exactly this kind of work. The photograph was in my files. The name beneath the photograph was in my files The name belonged to a man who had sat on the board of Hargrove Meridian for three years and had been the attending consultant at Edwin Hargrove's private h

Then she straightened again, pushing the tension aside like it didn’t matter. “So,” she said lightly, swirling her drink. “Back to the problem.” Arabella picked up her phone and scrolled her contacts. Stopped on a name. Turned the screen around. Cressida squinted at it. “Victor Hargrove? Bella he looks like someone’s grandfather.” “He’s sixty-two.” “Does he have grandchildren?” “Three.” “Three.” Cressida looked scandalized in the delighted way. “And he’s going to help you because—”

“We had something real. Don’t throw it all away for her.” “I never loved you,” Reggie said coldly. “And I never will. Never contact me again. If you do, I’ll make sure you lose everything you have left.” He hung up. A moment later, his phone rang again. It was Sienna’s father. “Mr. Hargrove,” Reggie said when the call connected. "Mr. Reginald, please don't do this. We have been business partners even before my daughter came into the picture," Mr. Hargrove started.

I can smell the aroma of Sinigang, my favorite! "Breaking news! Brooklyn's Shoe Collection owner Helene Brooklyn, report about her daughter missing." I turn my gaze on the television and Hilary's mom is on T.V. "If you see my daughter please inform us! We are willing to give a reward! I just really want to see my daughter!" she said while crying in front of the camera. Hilary and I are best friends for like two to three but she never tells stores about her parents or family. Maybe she wants it to keep private and I respect that. It is understandable to cry when you're daughter is missing like you don't know if they are still alive or what.