Deadly Intent

by Kylie Brant

  “No.”

  All eyes turned to Althea Mulder. She looked brittle, as though she would shatter in a million pieces if someone touched her. “We don’t want anyone trying to follow the money or whoever comes to pick it up. We just want to pay and bring Ellie home.”

  Whitman’s voice was gruff. “We all want that. But as you mentioned earlier, we can’t trust his promises for a safe return. Something could go wrong. We have to be prepared for anything.”

  And it struck Macy then that everyone in the room except for Althea knew what Vincent Dodge was. There was no reason to have shared that information with the woman. Even a whisper of knowledge could be more cruel than ignorance.

  She’d recently learned that for herself.

  “Can we have a copy of that video?” Althea leaned against her husband now, as if that objection had left her weak. “When you’re done doing whatever you need to do with it, will we get a duplicate?”

  “Of course.”

  She seemed to take Adam at his word, because when her husband said, “Come. We have to leave the agents to their work,” she left without protest.

  There was a moment of silence when the conference room door closed behind them.

  “We have to find the girl before three A.M. tomorrow.”

  Kell headed to the table for coffee, his voice grim. “Unless Dodge has changed his specialty, she’s dead as soon as the money gets paid.”

  Because she was close enough, Macy elbowed him. Hard. The movement jostled his arm so he spilled some of the steaming liquid on the table.

  He sent her a reproving look. But before he could speak again, Adam put in, “Paulie Samuels put together a file on Dodge. Given his talent for information gathering, I suspect it’s at least as complete as any that an individual law enforcement entity has on him. Dodge has a particular set of skills that makes him attractive for specific jobs, yes. But he’s honed other skills to make the enactment of his jobs easier. He likes to stalk his victims, so he has the patience for this sort of task.”

  Kell surprised her by handing her the first cup he’d poured before filling another for himself. Macy sipped from it gratefully as Raiker continued. “Some of the jobs attributed to Dodge had him waiting inside the home of his victims, so he’s got some talent in circumventing security. He couldn’t have managed the patch on Mulder’s video feed himself, and the specs he planted in Hubbard’s house also indicate he had some help with the security. But Kell is right about one thing.”

  A feeling of foreboding trickled down Macy’s spine, and she raised her gaze to meet Raiker’s.

  “There was absolutely no reason to pay the price for an assassin if he wasn’t going to be used in that capacity.” He looked around the room, his visage grim. “Ellie Mulder’s chances of being found alive plummet drastically after the ransom is paid.”

  There was the sound of a throat being cleared. But the gravity of the prediction kept the room silent for long moments.

  Whitman finally broke the quiet. “We’ve divided all agents into teams of two or three and assigned each team a specific task. We’re going to come at this from as many ways possible, people. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ve got one of my men on his way. He’ll go directly to the bank Mulder will use. He and another operative have been working on this from headquarters for a few days. They’ve developed a dandy little spybot to install on a designated bank computer if this money goes electronically.”

  Raiker had to be talking about Samuels, Macy knew. There was little he couldn’t do with a computer. He always joked that he was matchless in his prowess with technology and cards. Although he’d likely been working with Gavin Pounds, another of Raiker’s cyber wizards, it would be Samuels on-site in Colorado. He was Raiker’s right-hand man.

  “Burke and Agent Travis will follow up with the dog and trainer. Macy.” Raiker looked at her. “You’ll want to do another threat assessment. Compare the notes, although there’s no reason to believe they weren’t generated by the same person.”

  Macy nodded, but the entire process would probably only take a couple hours. If there was a positive match on both notes, there was no reason to run this newest one against the written communication samples again. The threat assessment tests always took the longest.

  And she was certain she’d discover the threat implicit in this note just as real as in the last.

  An hour later, Macy had ascertained that the same person authored both ransom notes. It would be well over an hour before the database results were done on the threat assessment, however. At loose ends, she called Raiker with the results she had so far and asked that he have Ellie’s video e-mailed to her.

  When she downloaded it a few minutes later and watched it, once again she focused on the child’s demeanor and injuries.

  It was all too easy to guess where the bruises had come from but more difficult to figure the source of the scabbing around her wrists. Rope lacerations might be the cause, although tape was used for her other bonds. Macy puzzled over it a while longer, before starting it over and turning up the volume.

  The halting, stumbling reading had her wincing, and her opinion of the girl’s tutor, Becker, sank even further.

  To be fair, of course, Stephen had indicated the poor reading was a thing of the past, brought out again by trauma. That was probably the case, she decided, replaying the video yet again. There didn’t seem to be a pattern to the girl’s mistakes, as there were for poor readers. Few reversals. No confusion between wh and th words.

  Because she had nothing else to do for the duration of the test, she looked up the news story and ran it off on her portable printer so she could compare the oral reading of the story to the copy. There were substitutions and omissions of small words and word parts, she noted. But never the same one twice.

  Idly, she began to mark her copy of the news story with the girl’s mistakes, although she was becoming more sidetracked with the sound of her voice. There should have been fear palpable in her tone. In her expression. But she was strangely emotionless.

  And that, too, was a sign of trauma.

  Studying the copy she’d made with the girl’s errors, she decided to save it for the tutor. When—not if—the girl was returned safely, he would have more remediation to do.

  The first mistake was the girl substituting for for the word from. Then later she substituted a word ending. There was actually more stumbling and false starts than actual errors. She’d read cable for table. A for the. A reversal of the letter b for a d in a word. In for on. White for when.

  Macy straightened suddenly, looked harder at the sheet. Getting a fresh page of paper, she jotted the errors down in order. When she was done, all she could do was stare incredulously.

  The girl hadn’t reverted to her earlier reading difficulties at all.

  She’d been sending them a message.

  Forest. Cabin. White.

  She waited impatiently for the threat assessment to finish, taking it downstairs and presenting her findings to Raiker and Whitman, who appeared in the middle of a strategy session.

  “The authorship on the two notes is the same.” It would have been startling to find out otherwise. “And the threat issued is real.”

  That, too, was unsurprising. But she got more of a response when she showed them what she’d found by analyzing Ellie’s reading errors.

  Raiker’s smile was fierce. “This little girl has some serious guts. I’m going to make damn sure I meet her.”

  Whitman stared at the sheet she’d prepared for a while longer. “What about the rest of the errors?” He stabbed his finger at the jumble of letters and words at the bottom of the sheet.

  “I couldn’t make any sense of them,” Macy admitted. Excitement was still tripping in her veins. This was the same little girl that Becker, the tutor, had pronounced as being capable of little creative thought. Her estimation of the man, never very high, bottomed out.

  “There are eleven forests in
Colorado,” Agent Whitman pointed out. His eyes had deep circles beneath them. “Over twenty million acres of forested land. And any heavily wooded area would look like a forest to a child. In this state, anytime you get out of the city you’re surrounded by wooded areas.”

  “She’d understand that, having lived here for two years. It makes sense that she isn’t being held too far from here, though,” Macy maintained, her earlier excitement somewhat dimmed by the facts. She’d done a little research of her own. The combined Rocky Mountain National Park and Roosevelt and Arapaho Forests accounted for millions of those acres.

  “It’s a piece of information we didn’t have before. But unfortunately . . .” Raiker nudged his laptop around so she could see the screen. “The weather forecast for this area doesn’t look good. Another winter storm is on its way, and the areas closest to the mountains will be hit first.” She followed the direction his finger was pointing on the screen to see the moving system he was referring to. “Kell and Travis are liable to find themselves right in the middle of it.”

  “Levi Feldman.” After the introduction, the dog handler lost no time following Agent Travis’s gesture to get in the vehicle. Pulling open the door to the backseat, he slid in and slammed the door quickly after him.

  “Agent Dan Travis. Consultant Kellan Burke.”

  Feldman bobbed his head to each in return. “Colder than a bitch this early in the morning.” He looked delighted when Kell handed back a large steaming cup of coffee he’d picked up at the general store. “Hey, thanks. This’ll help.”

  “So let me give you the scenario,” Travis started.

  Feldman held up a gloved hand. “I’d rather you didn’t. Sheriff Preske said you needed a trailing dog, and he called me. If I have too many details, I’d be afraid of prejudicing the dog.” He sipped from the coffee before continuing. “Belle is one of the best I’ve seen, but these dogs are trained on the reward system. If she senses I want her to go a certain way and she figures that’s what she needs to do to get her treat, it increases the likelihood of a false trail.”

  “Okay.” Kell took the ziplock bag out of the heavy parka he was wearing and handed it to the man. McLellan had made out like a bandit on this deal. Like the salesperson he was, once he figured they were going on a search this morning, he’d started peddling the gear they’d need, at what he claimed was a steep discount. Kell was willing to guess that the hefty price tag they’d paid had more than made up for what the man had lost in the break-in earlier that week.

  “Good, you got her toothbrush.” Levi shoved the bag in the pocket of his coat. He was outfitted in a similar manner to Kell and Travis. The frigid wind on the mountainside was unforgiving. “It’s always more difficult getting a scent with a kid. Lots of time a mom has folded their clothes, right, and put them away. Made the kid’s bed. Too many competing smells. But a toothbrush comes packaged and the saliva is a good source of scent.” He gave a quick grin that settled his face into deep vertical creases. “Let’s just hope she didn’t drop it.”

  “So.” He took another quick gulp from the cup. “You’ve got a PLS?” At their uncomprehending looks, he explained, “A place last seen?”

  “We have a possibility. Marked it yesterday.”

  The man nodded. “Snow trail is always more difficult, but Belle has logged lots of hours in this sort of weather and terrain. If the scent is there, she’ll pick it up. How far away is the spot you marked?”

  Kell unfolded a map of the Arapaho that he’d picked up in the store yesterday. Redmond had been prevailed upon to help mark the area where they’d flagged the shelter. “Okay, sure. Looks to be about ten miles from here. Why don’t you let me keep the map, and I’ll jump in the truck and lead you there. I want to get as close as I can before I let Belle out. In this sort of terrain and weather, she’ll wear out quicker than she does normally.”

  “Do we need to stay back, out of the way while she works?”

  Levi gave him another quick grin as he opened the door. “Naw, once I give her the scent article, she isn’t going to pay much attention to you. You’ll be fine. But we’ll have to work fast. I hear another storm is headed our way and will probably hit the area by early evening.” He stopped then, seemed to think of something, and headed back to their SUV.

  “You guys are going to want your own snowmobile. We’re going to be doing lots of walking.” He pointed in the direction of the general store. “You can rent one at the store. Just ask for Kevin McLellan.”

  While Feldman waited, Kell and Travis came to an arrangement with McLellan. Then the agent drove the SUV back to where the dog handler waited, and Kell followed him on the sled. They trailed Feldman as he found an entrance to the forest and parked his vehicle at the side of the road several miles inside, backed up against a snowbank. Then he hopped out of the truck and went to the back, lowered the tailgate. He had a snowmobile in the bed, which he started up and slowly drove off the truck, onto the bank. Then he got off and went back to the truck to hitch up a small covered trailer he had there.

  “Insulated kennel,” he explained as he worked quickly to hook it to the back of the sled. “Helps save up Belle’s energy as we move from spot to spot.” He shot them a quick look. It was difficult to tell with the face mask he wore, but Kell was certain he was grinning again. “You guys will have to double up.”

  Since he’d expected no less, Kell nodded and followed Travis back to the vehicle. He zipped up the coat he wore over several layers, including the snow pants he’d acquired at McLellan’s, and took the hat out of his pocket. He was certain Macy had picked out the one most guaranteed to embarrass him, but he wasn’t worried about logging fashion points out here. He donned a face mask and then pulled the hat on over it, covered it with the hood. And tried not to think about how much he hated winter.

  After what seemed like an endless ride, they pulled to a stop behind where the handler had halted. “This doesn’t look like the same area,” Travis muttered as they trudged up to meet Feldman. “Maybe he misread the map.”

  “Maybe he can’t use the sled farther in,” Kell responded. The deep hood on the parka was coming in handy. Although it impeded peripheral vision, it served as a windbreak for the wicked wind. He was still getting the hang of the snowshoes they wore. “Looks like the terrain gets a bit trickier.”

  But when they reached the other man, they learned they were both wrong.

  “Ready. We’re precasting,” Levi said into a handheld radio as he snapped a long line on the dog and let her go. Belle bounded through the snow for a ways, and then paused to sniff the area. He tucked the radio into his pocket. “The sheriff sent the radio with me. We always report every stage of a search.” Before they could ask, he went on, “She needs to get used to the different smells so when we settle down to work for good, she’ll be focused.”

  “How long does it take to train a dog for this kind of work?” Real interest was apparent in the CBI agent’s words. He wore skier sunglasses that made Kell wish he’d remembered to bring his prescription sunglasses from the glove compartment of the SUV. Though the sky was gloomy, the unrelenting starkness of the white landscape, punctuated with decked-out trees, was hard on the eyes.

  “Depends on the dog’s age and what sort of work it’s being trained for. But generally a year or two. It’s very labor-intensive. My group trains two or three times a week.” Feldman let the dog roam around for a while longer before whistling. When it returned, he bundled it back into the kennel and fired up the snowmobile again.

  The next time he stopped, they were close enough to the shelter they’d been shown the day before to see the tree branch they’d shoved into the snow in front of it. “Am I close?” Levi asked as they caught up with him.

  Kell pointed a gloved finger. “It’s a half a mile or so in that direction. See the bough upright in the snow?”

  “Let’s get started then.” He took his radio out again and took time to check in with the sheriff’s office. “Casting now.” Tucking it
away in his pocket again, he went to the kennel and freed the dog, keeping a hand on its collar. He exchanged the collar for a harness and then stood up again, brushing the snow from his pants. “When she’s in harness she knows it’s work time.” Straddling the dog, he pulled the ziplock bag from his pocket. He opened it and held it in front of the blood-hound for several minutes. “Check it.” Then he put the scent article back in his other pocket and snapped a leash on the dog’s harness. “Okay, Belle. Find her.”

  The handler and dog made a slow wide circle. Kell and Travis hung back a ways. Despite what Feldman had said, he didn’t want to take the risk of distracting the dog. He wished he’d remembered to ask how’d they’d know that the dog had picked up a scent. It seemed lackadaisical to him, alternately scenting the air and the ground before it.

  The handler called back, “Luckily it’s dry snow. Easier for a dog to work in than wet and packed stuff.”

  After fifteen minutes only inching slightly closer to the shelter, the agent said, “Belle doesn’t seem to be picking up on anything.”

  “We’ll give it more time.” But his once keen hope was beginning to fade, as well. They’d known it was a long shot. But there hadn’t been enough good leads in this case to overlook this one.

  And he was very much aware of the ticking clock with the delivery of that most recent note.

  “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

  But Kell didn’t need Travis’s words to call his attention to the changing scene ahead. The dog was pulling hard at the leash, forcing Feldman along in its wake.

  It was heading toward the shelter they’d marked yesterday.

  Adrenaline spiking in his veins, Kell moved more quickly in the handler’s wake. The dog tugged at the leash as it charged ahead. “It’s picked up the scent?” he called.