Disappearances!
There was nothing immediately wrong with Charles Feeney; and Greg had been an Inquisitor for long enough to stop thinking how that could be suspicious. These days, most people really weren’t tainted, even a little — and they also voted. The FI couldn’t come rolling in hot, anymore. Not unless they had a damned good excuse for it. Greg didn’t know Oswald, but Charles looked like him, only younger: thin brown hair, a face saved from roundness by a surprisingly strong chin, and green eyes in a pale face.
He obviously wasn’t overjoyed to be talking to Inquisitors, but he wasn’t terrified, either. “I hope I can help you, sir, ma’am,” he told them both as he settled into a chair opposite theirs in the sitting room. “Is this about my father’s disappearance? I have to admit, I was expecting to be interviewed later in the week.”
“Oh?” Bernice gave him a look that mixed interest, and general suspicion. “Any reason why, Mr. Feeney?”
He blinked at her. “The last I heard from him was last Thursday, and I only started worrying about him yesterday. The police officer at the local precinct told me to wait another day before filing a missing persons report, just in case he had gone fishing or something. I only got back an hour ago from doing just that, and they said that it could take a few days for a case to be generated.”
The two Inquisitors traded looks; even for a place this quiet, that sounded risky.