Deadly Intent

by Kylie Brant

  “We found his car in the employee’s garage, locked. He only has the one vehicle registered to him, so he found another way off the estate. Has his cell, which he isn’t answering, and according to you, took about half his clothes, but not his bankbooks. He could still transfer his money, I suppose, if he has online banking, but he’d have to figure either way leaves a trail for us to follow.” Raiker toyed with the polished mahogany knob of his cane. “If he’d planned on ransom, leaving the money behind makes more sense. What’s a hundred grand if you plan to ask for ten or twenty times that?”

  “But there’s still been no demand?”

  Raiker shook his head at Agent Travis’s question. “No. But the techs finally discovered how the security system was circumvented.”

  Macy straightened, the news erasing her exhaustion. “How?”

  “By checking the computer’s download history.” There was impatience in his expression, in his tone, and she knew intuitively that he thought his own computer techs would have made the discovery hours earlier. “The suspect—presumably Hubbard—covered his tracks, but there was evidence of a software patch downloaded during his shift that caused certain cameras to loop the same scene only between midnight and two A.M. this morning.”

  “Shit,” muttered Travis. The agent’s deep-set eyes were shadowed by fatigue. “So much for being foolproof like Cramer claimed.”

  “It’s not exactly something your average burglar could pull off,” Raiker said dryly. “Very high-tech. And detailed exactly to match the specifications of this system. Our guy went to considerable expense to acquire the design for the patch, because there’s nothing in Hubbard’s background to indicate he had this sort of expertise.”

  Dan Travis wasn’t buying it. “He and Cramer were camera experts.”

  “Capable of troubleshooting problems with the cameras and computer feed. But this . . .” Raiker shook his head. “I talked to Gavin Pounds, one of my employees, and described the setup here. He’s a cyber genius. He claims there are only a handful of people in the country capable of designing something so detail-specific, so we can also figure it was expensive. Someone went to a great deal of cost to set this job up.”

  “Cost is no object when you’re pulling down billions a year,” Whitman muttered. His reference to the Mulders was clear.

  “Or when you hope to recoup that expense and millions more with a ransom demand.” Raiker held up a hand to stem any comments. “Assuming one comes.”

  Kell folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, face tilted toward the ceiling as he mused aloud. “So a few of the cameras are circumvented. Not turned off—there would have been a record of that. But by replaying a different scene, there’d be no pixel change. One of the criteria to trip the alarm isn’t met, allowing the kidnapper to move about the area freely.”

  “And knowing the specific cameras he disabled points to both entry and exit points for the house?”

  “That’s right.” Whitman worked his shoulders tiredly as he answered Macy’s question. “The affected cameras included the one in the employee garage, so maybe he hid in the vehicle until making his move on the house. The camera that would have picked up his movements from that garage to the east side of the home were decommissioned. He probably entered the home through one of the sets of French doors on the east side of the sunroom. Could have left the same way. They can be locked behind a person as they exit.”

  Having not had a chance to look through the home, Macy had no idea what the layout was. “How far from there to Ellie’s bedroom?”

  “Across the house,” Agent Travis put in. He was frowning, as if troubled by the realization. “Once inside, Hubbard would have had to go through about eight rooms and hallways before getting to the girl’s bedroom. And it’s only a hundred yards or so from there to the parents’ master suite.”

  “Ballsy,” muttered Kell. “So he didn’t get in and wait for hours, hidden from sight. Gave himself a total time period of two hours to get in, make his way to the bedroom, snatch the kid, and get out again. With no way of being sure of the parents’ schedule, he couldn’t be certain how long he’d have to wait until he could make his move.” He gave a mournful shake of his head. “This is no amateur we’re dealing with. He’s done this sort of thing before.”

  “Hubbard’s record is clean.” Whitman thumped a heavy index finger against the surprisingly thick file folder in front of him before sending it sliding across the table toward Kell. “Giving Mulder the benefit of the doubt—”

  “Yes, let’s try that, shall we?” murmured Raiker.

  “—he wouldn’t have hired the guy for his security team otherwise.” If the agent had heard Raiker’s comment, he chose to ignore it. “And Dobson hasn’t been able to dig up anything else that would make me suspect his employment dossier has been altered. He was honorably discharged from the army, put in fifteen years working for the penal system, and my phone calls elicited nothing but praise for the man. Worked a ton of overtime for them, too. You’d wonder where he found the time to get experience in something like this.”

  “He didn’t need to get experience,” Macy said with certainty. The fog of exhaustion had lifted at the onset of this discussion, and her mind was racing now. “He just needed to be approached by someone who had it. Hubbard may have been nothing more than the ticket inside. Whoever the accomplice is could be the one with the planning, the experience, and the expertise.”

  “That would make Hubbard little more than a lackey.” Kell’s voice sounded doubtful. “Hard to believe a professional leaving the implementation to an inexperienced rookie.”

  “We already agreed that Hubbard isn’t in this alone,” Travis pointed out. “Makes sense to me that the pro would bring in whoever he needs to get the job done. Like partners. Each brings something to the table.”

  “And since Hubbard can get inside the gates of the estate, that makes him pretty indispensable,” Macy finished.

  “Okay.” Kell scrubbed both hands over his face before addressing Whitman. “I assume you got a warrant for the car and checked it out while we were gone.”

  “We did. Got some random prints, with no matches on the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Most of them matched the ones Mulder had on file for Hubbard. Found a couple of Cramer’s.” Whitman’s dour tone was reflected in his expression. “He claims he rode to work with Hubbard the day before the kidnapping while his car was in the shop. Checked the hard drive of the security computers for the dates he mentioned and found footage supporting his claim. Other than that, there were a few hairs and fibers found. They’ll be checked out.”

  Raiker checked his watch. “I’m leaving shortly to begin those prison interviews. Agent Whitman and I have discussed division of duties.” Nothing in his expression relayed his feelings regarding that particular conversation. “I’ve offered the services of a mobile lab that could be set up on the property for quicker results. CBI prefers to use the state lab for the time being.”

  He sent a quelling look Kell’s way when the man gave a barely muffled snort. But his reaction was picked up by Whitman.

  “We play this strictly by the books until the Mulders are cleared.” His tone was testy. “CBI Director Lanscombe has made this case highest priority, and we should get quick lab results. Once we’re certain the family isn’t involved, Lanscombe might change his mind about the mobile lab.”

  “You’ve got some other high-priority cases in the state, according to my sources,” Raiker put in. “Suspected serial killer in Boulder. A rash of bank robberies in central Colorado.”

  “Let us worry about that. Our agency has top-notch resources.” Whitman’s tone held a note of finality.

  Macy remained silent, but Raiker’s words had doubt spiking. Evidence was known to languish in state labs for weeks or longer. It remained to be seen just how expedited the test results for this case would be.

  And as for the man’s reference to their resources . . . Raiker’s labs rival
ed the best in the nation and came complete with some of the top forensic scientists in the country, all who’d been vigorously cross-trained. He’d recently begun expanding his mobile lab system by establishing satellite offices across the United States. It would take a great deal to rival the experts and resources within his organization.

  But it was what the assistant director didn’t say that bothered her most. He couldn’t have made it clearer that he still didn’t trust them not to alter evidence to exonerate their client. She took a moment to be thankful she hadn’t been present for the conversation between her boss and Whitman on the subject.

  “I want to follow up on Hubbard.” Kell’s statement jerked her attention back to the matter at hand. “We need to check his ex. See if his mother is still alive. Other family members. Figure out who his friends were. Go at his coworkers again. He’s wrapped up in this case. We need to figure out how.”

  “I agree.” She faced her boss and Whitman with equanimity. With Raiker gone for the next few days, the last thing she wanted was to be shunted aside by the CBI, given menial tasks while they followed up on the leads she, Burke, and Travis had unearthed today.

  “Good.” Given the glint in Raiker’s eye, their united front amused him. “Because we’ve decided that the three of you will do exactly that while the rest of Whitman’s team look into Mulder’s finances and business associates. Hubbard doesn’t have any close relatives living. So after interviewing the ex, check out his old coworkers and track down his closest acquaintances.”

  “Does Mulder keep a list of people who applied for a job and got turned down?” Kell asked. “Because if this was motivated by revenge, rather than ransom, we need to look at anyone who had a hard-on against the guy.”

  “I assure you, we’ve considered all avenues.” It was hard to say whether Whitman’s irascible tone was due to Burke’s suggestion or from lack of sleep. Macy assumed it was the former. He probably expected them to stay silent and await their orders, much as Agent Travis was doing.

  “Get some sleep,” Raiker advised them brusquely. “You can all start first thing in the morning. You’ll keep both me and Special Agent Whitman updated regarding your findings. Agent Travis can show you to your rooms.”

  Sleep sounded pretty appealing. But even as Macy rose, her gaze sought Whitman’s. “I’d like a look at the girl’s room before I turn in for the night. Is the crime scene unit done with it?”

  The man gave a curt nod. “I have two agents posted at the door. I’ll direct them to allow you in.”

  Kell and Dan Travis trailed her from the room. After closing the door behind them, the agent said, “Our rooms are well away from the family’s quarters. Can’t you wait until tomorrow morning to look at the kid’s room?”

  Macy hesitated. The man’s weariness was visible in his expression. But she knew her compulsive tendencies would make it impossible to sleep without at least a walk-through of the space.

  Kell took the decision out of her hands, a fact that would have annoyed her under different circumstances. “Just walk us by the room and then show us to ours. We can find our way back on our own.”

  The agent shrugged and turned on his heel. “Fine.” He led them down endless corridors past a blur of darkened rooms. Macy observed her surroundings closely as she followed, making a mental note of her location. Right turn by the Grecian urn that looked to be a couple thousand years old. A hundred yards past what was likely an authentic pencil sketch by Picasso. To the left and another dozen feet to the lighted glassed-in collection of Fabergé eggs. Up a set of three steps to a wider hallway, this one decorated in designer hand-painted wallpaper. The dark-suited duo standing outside a door ahead pinpointed the location of Ellie Mulder’s room.

  Travis halted. “There’s the scene up ahead. Down that left hall”—he jerked a thumb to indicate—“will be her parents’ suite. Our rooms are this way.” He turned around and lost no time heading down the steps and around a corner.

  “Paying attention?” murmured Burke as she hurried to keep up with the agent’s long strides. He strolled behind her, seeming to have no such problem.

  “I can find my way back,” she answered shortly. He was much too close behind her, his shoulder occasionally bumping hers. She could have told him she’d made her way around places as grand as this one from the time she could walk but knew instinctively that would be a bad idea. The last thing Burke needed was more ammunition to use for the incessant wisecracks he threw her way.

  “You should take precautions, just in case. You probably don’t have any bread crumbs on you, but you could always leave a trail of clothing behind, marking the trail.” As if on cue, heat flooded her cheeks at the suggestion, and she hurried her steps even more. But she couldn’t outpace the rest of his remarks. “Drop a glove here. Another glove there. Get rid of that god-awful hat at the corner ahead.”

  Momentarily distracted, she asked, “What’s wrong with my hat?”

  “Did you steal it from a ten-year-old boy?”

  Her earlier embarrassment was elbowed aside by annoyance. An all too common occurrence around him. “Hard to take advice seriously from someone whose idea of high fashion is a new pair of jeans.”

  “Just making an observation.” They were rounding the corner he’d pointed out earlier. “Ahead you could leave the coat. Maybe the boots after that. And then things should get a bit more interesting before we get to our rooms. Sort of a Hansel and Gretel-type striptease.”

  “You have a one-track mind.” Which made it even more incomprehensible that she’d spent one very vivid night wrapped around him. A memory that had proven much harder to extricate than she’d like.

  “Not at all.” His voice dropped even lower. She avoided, barely, sending a look at him over her shoulder. “I’m perfectly capable of thinking of you stripping—perfect place to leave your sweater here,” he inserted, without missing a beat as they passed a dizzying number of closed doors, “while also wondering if the agents left on point at the girl’s room were for our benefit or the family’s.”

  She wished she didn’t know what he was getting at. But it would be a precautionary measure to post guards outside a crime scene. Especially with parents still in the home who couldn’t yet be cleared as suspects in the case.

  It was just as likely the agents were there to be sure they didn’t tamper with the scene themselves, and the knowledge burned. Regardless of Whitman’s talk about teamwork, it was clear that he didn’t trust Raiker or his operatives at this point. Travis’s assignment with them tomorrow was probably as much a reflection of that distrust as anything.

  “Things will change once they clear the parents,” she said, her voice as low as his. Travis had disappeared around another turn.

  “You’re assuming they will clear the parents. Good place to leave your pants—and an excellent choice they were—at this corner,” he added in a non sequiter.

  She did look at him then and found his face as close as she’d feared. “Stop crowding me.” The elbow she aimed at him found its mark in his hard belly, although probably to little effect. But he did slow a step, if at least to move out of striking distance. “You can’t think the Mulders are in on this.”

  “If Raiker thought there was a chance of that, he’d have never taken this case. That’s good enough for me. I’m just saying it might be a long time before Whitman reaches the same conclusion. In the meantime, he yanks us around, pretends to accept our help as long as it comes with our babysitter, Travis.”

  She could hardly argue with his logic, since she’d had similar thoughts herself. “Raiker will make sure we don’t get shoved out of the investigative side.” Travis was in sight again, but there was another intersecting hallway up ahead. How many rooms were in this place?

  “Sculpture up ahead.”

  “I see it,” she said irritably. His line of thought had as many twists and turns as this home. The work he was referring to was an abstract metal piece, and she didn’t even try to identify the artist
. Her stepfather’s taste didn’t run to anything more recent than the nineteenth century, and most of her artistic experience came from his holdings.

  “Just thinking it’d be a good place to leave your bra.”

  She jerked around, and he raised his hands in false placation. “So we can find our way back to the girl’s room. And don’t think I don’t appreciate your offer to sacrifice this way, leaving a trail for us.”

  “I didn’t offer, I’m not stripping, and you are not coming with me when I go back,” she informed him, fuming. This was always what came of too much time spent in Burke’s presence. Well, all but that one notable time. No one could tie her up in knots the way he could, and the recognition made her furious.

  “Don’t blame me then if we get lost.”

  Her fists clenched in frustration. Certain he’d find it amusing, she mentally counted to ten while she quickened her step. While he displayed his famous charm whenever there was a female in the vicinity, he’d always seemed to reserve his most outrageous remarks for her, and that hadn’t changed since their one disastrous night together six months ago. She was determined that her reaction wouldn’t fuel his need for entertainment at her expense.

  So she studiedly ignored him until Travis finally paused. “These three rooms have been set aside for your use,” he informed them. “We’re around the corner and down the hall.”

  Macy eyed the closed doors of each. Two on one side and one on the other. No way did she want to sleep with Burke next to her. “I’ll take the one over here.”

  Travis shrugged. “Better check which one has your stuff in it. How about we meet at seven A.M. in the front foyer?”

  “Sounds good.” Burke opened the door closest to him and looked at her. “Your things are in here.”

  With a feeling of trepidation, she watched as he swung open the next door. “And here’s mine.” The smart-ass grin on his face told her better than words that he’d figured she wanted to put as much distance as possible between them. “But maybe Raiker wouldn’t mind if you wanted to ask him to switch.”