"Different styles just mean opposites attract."
Reviewed by Sabrina Marino
Posted October 18, 2010
Romance Suspense
Macy Reid is a forensic linguist who works for a private
organization. Her boss, Adam Raiker, has called her in to
work alongside coworker Kellan Burke, an investigator who
in Macy's opinion is a smart-mouthed rogue. Two years
before, Adam rescued a little girl who had been kidnapped,
taking the credit from an FBI case that wasn't going
anywhere. Someone kidnaps the little girl again and the
family wants Adam Reiker's team to work alongside the
Colorado Bureau of Investigations.
Macy is glad to help, but wants Kellan to keep his comments
to himself. They had a one-night-stand six months ago and
neither wants to admit that they have not quite forgotten
that night.
As the two work together, they realize the CBI team isn't
playing fair. They aren't receiving all the information the
CBI has. Kellan finds a way around this issue and Macy and
Kellan get a few clues on their own, which lead them closer
to finding out who took the little girl. Late night file
reading brings Kellan and Macy closer together and the
close proximity ignites the little flame that has been
flickering in the back of their minds for the past six
months. When Macy ignores a directive from her boss and
talks to someone from her past, it is Kellan who is there
to bring her back to the present, and this only draws them
closer together.
Kylie Brant knows how to balance the suspense of
finding out who kidnapped the little girl with the romantic
suspense between Macy and Kellan. DEADLY INTENT is quite
engaging. The ending will leave you anxious for the next
installment.
SUMMARY
No one knows the patterns and nuances of communication like
forensic linguist Macy Reid. She is also an expert on
kidnapping, having experienced firsthand the stark terror of
being abducted when she was a child. So she is the perfect
investigator to be called in when a Denver tycoon's
eleven-year-old daughter is abducted—for the second time.
The biggest stumbling block for Macy may be a member of her
own team: Kellan Burke, the wisecracking, rule-breaking
investigator who relishes getting under Macy's skin. Their
styles couldn't be more different; the attraction between
them more explosive. And when it becomes apparent that Macy
can't solve the case without confronting the demons from her
past, Kell is just the man to take her there—and back.
ExcerptPrologue
She could hear him breathing.
Icy talons of fear shredded the fabric of sleep and
brought Ellie Mulder instantly awake. Old habits had her
keeping her muscles lax, her eyes still closed as she
strained to identify what had alerted her. When she did, her
blood ran as cold as the frigid Colorado wind beating
against the windows.
The sound was the same snuffle snort that warned her
whenever he was coming for her. He’d returned, just like
he’d threatened. He’d snatch her from her bed, from her
house and this time, she’d never get away. Not ever.
Her eyes snapped open, a scream lodged in her throat. The
old terrors were surging, fighting logic, fueled by memory.
It took a moment to see through the veils of the past and
notice her familiar surroundings.
She was home. In her room. In her bed. And Art Cooper
wasn’t here. He would die in prison.
A long sigh of relief shuddered out of her. The bright
illumination of the alarm clock on her bedside table said
one-eighteen A.M. The sleep scene on her computer lit the
corner of the room that held her desk. And the large
aquarium on the opposite wall was awash in a dim glow. She
often ‘forgot’ to turn it off.
The items had been chosen because of the light they
afforded. Her mom and dad had worried when she’d needed
doors open and lights blazing to go to bed at night. But
they’d been happy when she’d casually mentioned wanting a
computer. Had expressed an interest in tropical fish. Had
selected things to decorate her bedroom like the brightly
lit alarm clock. Those things were normal, the psychologist
said. And Ellie knew it was important that she seem normal.
Even if it was a lie.
The slight noise sounded again and she tensed, her hand
searching for the scissors she kept on the bedside table.
But even as her fingers gripped the handle, her mind
identified the sound. It was the gurgle of water in the
overflow box for the aquarium. Not Cooper’s asthmatic
breathing.
The realization relaxed her, but she didn’t replace the
scissors. She kept them clutched in her hand and brought
them close to her chest, the feel of the small weapon
comforting. Learning her daughter slept with a knife under
her pillow had made her mother cry. So Ellie pretended not
to need that anymore.
She had become very good at pretending.
So good that her mom and dad had been thrilled with her
new interest in Kirigami several months ago. She’d heard the
psychologist tell them that the act of creating, of folding
and cutting paper into pretty shapes would be very
therapeutic for her. So there was never any fuss about the
constant paper scraps on the floor. Fresh supplies appeared
on her desk without her ever having to request them.
Only she knew that the new hobby was an excuse to keep a
sharp pair of scissors with her at all times. And the
psychologist was right. That part, at least, was very
therapeutic.
The initial flare of panic had ebbed. She listened to the
blizzard howl outside the windows and found the noise oddly
soothing. Bit by bit she felt herself relax. Her eyelids
drooped.
She had the half formed thought that she needed to
replace the scissors before her mom came in the next morning
to check on her. But sleep was sucking her under, and her
limbs were unresponsive.
It was then that he pounced.
The weight hit her body, jolting her from exhaustion back
to alarm in the span of seconds. She felt the hand clamped
over her mouth, the prick of a needle in her arm and fear
lent her strength beyond her years. Rearing up in bed, she
flailed wildly, trying to wrest away, trying to strike out.
She tasted the stickiness of tape over her lips. Felt a hood
being pulled over her head.
There was a brief flare of triumph when the scissors met
something solid, and a hiss of pain sounded in her ear. But
then her hand was bent back, the weapon dropping from her
fingers and numbness started sliding over her body. She
couldn’t move. The hood prevented her from seeing. A strange
buzzing filled her head.
As she felt herself lifted and carried away, her only
thought was that she was being taken.
Again.
Chapter 1
The sleek black private jet sat waiting, it’s motors
idling. It looked impatient somehow, looming dark and silent
in the shadows, as if it had somehow taken on the
personality of the man inside it.
Needles of sleet pricked Macy Reid’s cheeks as she
hurried across the tarmac at the Manassas Regional Airport.
Adam Raiker, head of Raiker Forensics and her boss, had
demanded she be there within the hour. Her home in Vienna,
Virginia was nearly twenty miles from the airport. Since the
usual D.C. traffic was light at four A.M., she’d made it in
less than forty-five minutes.
An attendant took her suitcases and stowed them for her
as she wiped the frigid moisture from her cheeks and made
her way up the steps to the aircraft. Her satisfaction at
arriving early dissipated when she recognized the man seated
in the roomy black leather seat next to her boss. Kellan
Burke. Fellow forensic investigator. And the man she’d been
avoiding for months.
Her stomach gave one quick lurch before she ordered it to
settle. She gave Raiker a nod. "Adam." She spared barely a
glance to the other man as she chose the free seat next to
her boss and buckled in. "Burke."
"The inimitable duchess Macy." Kellan gave her a sleepy
smile that she knew better than to trust. "Been awhile since
we’ve been paired on an investigation. Miss me?"
"Like a case of foot rot."
"A comeback," he noted admiringly. "You’ve been practicing."
She could feel a flush heating her cheeks and damned yet
again the fair complexion that mirrored her emotions. Almost
as much as she damned the man for being right. Experience
had taught her that it paid to have a ready repertoire of
witty replies if she was to spend any length of time in
Burke’s presence. Unfortunately, those replies usually
occurred several hours after they were required, leaving her
at the crucial moment as tongue-tied and frustrated as an
eight-year-old.
It also paid to have her guard up, and her hormones on a
tight leash. That experience was more recent, and the memory
much more devastating.
Adam pressed a button on his armrest that would alert the
pilot to ready for take-off. "Any squabbling and you’ll ride
in the luggage compartment. Both of you." He leaned forward
to withdraw two file folders from the pocket of his
briefcase and handed one to each of them as the jet began
its taxi down the runway. Macy seized it, grateful to have
something else to focus on.
"Steven Mulder." Burke was studying the first sheet
inside the folder, his expression thoughtful. "Why is that
name familiar?"
"Maybe because he’s the owner of the discount stores that
bear his name." Raiker’s voice was dry. "A quick Google
check shows there are two thousand Mulders in the country
with several hundred more operations in Europe, Asia and
South America."
The name had also struck a chord of recognition with
Macy, but not for the same reason. "Steven Mulder? His
daughter was one of the girls rescued when you broke that
child swap ring a few years ago." The case wasn’t one she
was likely to forget. Her testimony in the case helped put
one of the perpetrators behind bars. It had also brought her
to Raiker’s attention.
"That’s right." For Burke’s benefit he explained, "Ellie
Mulder was seven when she was snatched while attending a
friend’s birthday party. FBI took control of the
investigation almost immediately. She was found incidentally
when one of my cases overlapped a couple years later. I
broke up a child auction and her kidnapper was among those
looking for a trade-in. By that point she’d been missing
twenty-two months."
Macy’s gaze dropped to the opened folder in her lap. A
moment later she froze in the act of scanning the
information he’d put together for them. "She’s been
abducted…again?"
"Sometime between eleven and two A. M. this morning."
Raiker’s expression was grim. "The area was having a
hellacious blizzard and Ellie’s mother went in to check on
her. She discovered her missing from her bed and looked
around the house. Woke her husband when she didn’t find her
and they searched the estate. He called me an hour after
they discovered her gone."
"But not the FBI," Burke guessed shrewdly.
Macy caught Raiker’s gaze on her and followed it to where
her fingers laid against the folder. Her fingers were
beating a familiar tattoo against the surface. Tap-tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Throat drying, she deliberately
stilled them and refocused her thoughts.
"The feds failed her before." She met Raiker’s stare,
knew she was right. "They had nearly two years to find her
the first time. But you’re the one responsible for bringing
her home to them. So her father contacted you."
Her employer inclined his head. "If the Mulders had their
way, no law enforcement would be involved at all. They’re
pretty devoid of respect for LEOs after the last incident.
But I convinced Steven that he has no choice but to report
Ellie’s disappearance. He has a personal relationship with
the governor and both Colorado U.S. senators. He’ll use his
influence to bring in the Colorado Bureau of Investigation
as leads."
"Elbowing aside the local PD," Kellan muttered, still
studying the contents of the file.
"The Mulder estate is located outside Denver’s city
limits. It actually falls under the jurisdiction of the
Jefferson County Sheriff’s office. Without proper
management, this could turn into a territorial tug-of-war of
monumental proportions."
Macy considered the ramifications. Being hired by a
family member rather than the investigating law enforcement
entity made their appearance on the scene a bit more
tenuous. In a case like this, suspicion fell first on the
family and those in closest proximity to the child. The CBI
would worry that their allegiance to Mulder would take
precedence over their commitment to teamwork. Without Raiker
running interference, they could be shut out of the
investigative end of things almost completely. He was going
to have his plate full handling the politics of this one.
She glanced at Burke. Found him watching her through a
pair of trendy dark framed glasses that were new since the
last time she’d seen him. "They’re going to want to bring in
their own people."
"Of course. But it’s my job to convince them they don’t
have anyone who can match the experience the two of you
bring. Don’t make a liar out of me."
It took her a moment to realize Raiker was joking. It was
always difficult to tell with him. "You’ve checked on
Cooper’s whereabouts?"
"Art Cooper is still in prison in Sussex, fulfilling his
thirty year sentence for the kidnap and rape of Ellie Mulder."
"And. . .the others?" It took all her resolve not to
fidget under the shrewd look Raiker aimed her way.
"All accounted for, still inside serving their sentences."
She wouldn’t have asked. Couldn’t have formed the words.
But in the next moment he added deliberately, "Castillo has
been bounced around some. He’s currently housed at Terre
Haute in Indiana."
"So are we looking at the original group you rounded up
in that first case?" Burke demanded. "Do any of them have
the jones to reach out this way from prison?"
"Every avenue will need to be explored." Adam
outstretched his injured leg, nudging aside the cane he was
never without. "We can’t afford to overlook the possibility
that Ellie’s disappearance this time is somehow connected to
that first kidnapping. I’ll line up the interviews for each
with the prison wardens and make personal visits."
There was a sick knot of dread settling in the pit of
Macy’s stomach. With an ease born of long practice, she
pushed it aside and looked at her boss. "And then we have to
decide who the real target of this crime is. Ellie Mulder,
or her father."
There were more than a dozen SUVs and vans parked in the
wide drive that looped in a half circle in front of the
sprawling Mulder estate. Additionally, what looked like a
black oversized ambulance set on a sixteen wheeler was
pulled up next to the house. It didn’t look like Steven
Mulder had been successful in limiting the scope of the LEO
presence. The still heavy snowfall had already buried the
vehicles under several inches of wet snow that had turned
the roads here from the airport into thick puddles of slush.
A drop in temperature would make them treacherous.
Macy stepped out of the SUV and scanned the grounds.
They’d been detained at the iron gates at the base of the
drive, more than a quarter mile back until the CBI agent
posted there had scrutinized their IDs and waited for
permission from someone inside to admit them. That had given
her plenty of time to eye the twelve-foot stone walls that
surrounded the property. The discreetly placed security
cameras that topped them at regular intervals. The security
station in front of the gates was meant to be manned by a
live operator. If a stranger had gotten in and out of the
estate undetected, he wasn’t an amateur.
The front door of the home swung open as they got out of
the SUV. From the grim-faced visage of the man in the
doorway, Macy knew immediately he was another CBI agent.
He waited until they’d ascended the stairs to demand
their IDs again. It occurred to her that the extra
precautions were a bit late. Ellie Mulder was gone.
"Assistant director Cal Whitman is waiting for you in the
study with Mr. Mulder. This way."
They were led through a marbled floor hallway that was
lined with paintings and punctuated by large abstract
sculptures. Macy recognized some of the artists, had no
doubt the pieces were original. With Mulder’s billions,
there was little he couldn’t afford. Except the one thing
his money apparently couldn’t buy.
His daughter’s safety.
"Not too shabby." Kellan said in an undertone as he
strolled along at her side, casting an appraising look at
the place. "What do you figure? Fifteen million? Twenty?"
"I wouldn’t know." It was usually best to ignore Burke.
But the man made it difficult. Even now she could feel his
pale green eyes on her, alight, no doubt, with amusement. It
seemed to be the primary emotion she elicited from him.
The hallway seemed endless. They trailed Raiker and the
CBI agent who had let them in. "Pretty easy to get lost in a
place this huge," Burke said, unzipping his navy down jacket
and shoving his hands in its pockets. "How long do you think
it would take them to locate us?"
"Why don’t you find out?"
He gave her a lazy grin. The prism of lights from the
crystals on the overhead chandeliers shot his thick brown
hair with reddish glints. She’d bet money he’d been auburn
haired as a youngster. And probably incorrigible even then.
"If you promise to lead the search and rescue party, I
might consider it. I can imagine it now. Me, weak from lack
of food, maybe injured. You, bending over me in concern,
wiping my brow, the strap of your lacy camisole slipping
down one satiny shoulder. . ."
She resisted an urge to smack him, which was the most
frequent emotion he had on her. "Why would I lead a search
and rescue mission clad in a camisole?"
His smile turned wicked. "Why indeed?"
"Burke."
They both jumped at the crack of Raiker’s voice. He was
several feet ahead of them. They’d been speaking too quietly
for him to have heard. Hadn’t they? "Yeah, boss?"
"Shut up."
He slid a sideways glance at Macy and winked at her,
clearly unabashed. "Shutting up, boss."
And those, she noted, as they were ushered into a large
dark paneled room, were the most promising words she’d heard
all day.
The man who rose to his feet to step toward Raiker, his
hand outstretched, was immediately recognizable. Steven
Mulder. He hadn’t appeared at the Castillo trial Macy had
testified at, but there’d been plenty of news stories
devoted to his family since his daughter’s first
disappearance. He was prematurely gray, with a long lean
runner’s build outfitted in a tailored suit. It’s cost
likely exceeded two months of her very generous salary. As
the two men clapped each other on the shoulder and leaned
forward to murmur a few words, her gaze went beyond them to
the men still seated behind a long polished conference
table. It was easy enough to guess which one was Whitman.
The assistant director had a decade on Raiker, she
estimated, which would place him in his mid-fifties. It was
difficult to tell his height while he was sitting, but she’d
bet well under six feet. He had a shaved head and thick
neck. His ill-fitting suit pulled across his beefy chest and
shoulders. When his flat brown gaze flicked over them, Macy
had the impression they’d been sized up in the space of an
instant. There was nothing in his expression that gave away
his thoughts about their inclusion in this case.
Mulder stepped away from Raiker and inclined his head in
the direction of her and Burke. "Thank you for coming. I
have tremendous respect for your boss. He performed a
miracle once." There was a barely discernible break in his
voice. "I’m hoping he’s got another one up his sleeve."
"Where Raiker is concerned, achieving the impossible is a
daily expectation," Burke assured him soberly. Macy remained
silent. She was always leery about issuing assurances to
victim’s families. Life didn’t always come complete with
happy endings.
Mulder turned away. "Assistant director Calvin Whitman,"
he gestured to the man she’d pegged as CBI and then to the
second man, "and my attorney and friend, Mark Alden. He’s
also Ellie’s godfather."
Alden was impeccably dressed, but his dark hair was
slightly mussed, and his eyes were as red rimmed as
Mulder’s. He gave them a nod but said nothing.
"Why doesn’t everyone sit down and I’ll catch you up."
Whitman waited for them to take a seat at the table. As they
shrugged out of their coats, he continued. "As per Mr.
Mulder’s request to the governor, I brought a small team of
agents and we arrived around five-thirty. My people are
completing the search of the house and beginning to go over
the grounds. An Amber Alert was issued before I arrived on
the scene by the governor’s office." There was a flicker in
the man’s eyes at this breach of protocol.
"I’ll be coordinating the interagency involvement on this
case. The Jefferson County Sheriff’s department will handle
the calls regarding the alert, and fully investigate each.
I’ve been assured the DPD will extend personnel and
resources if needed."
"Has the alert elicited any calls yet?"
Whitman didn’t appear to appreciate Kell’s interruption.
"There’s been no trace of the child reported so far. I have
an agent taking Mrs. Mulder’s statement. The live-in help
have been interviewed and the other employees contacted.
Many have arrived already. We’re preparing to question them."
"Steven just finished his statement for Agent Whitman
when you arrived." It was the first time the lawyer had
spoken. "We’ll expect a copy of it, and of all the case
notes, to be shared with Mr. Raiker’s team members in an
expedient manner."
The tilt of Whitman’s head could have meant anything. But
it was telling, Macy thought, that he had made no verbal
agreement.
Mulder obviously thought so, too. "Just so we’re clear on
this, Agent." He placed his palms on the table and leaned
forward, his tone fierce. "Raiker’s unit is here with the
blessing of the Colorado governor and our U.S. senators.
They will be a full part of this team." He gave a humorless
smile. "I’ve been through this before. I know how it works.
Althea and I are suspects until proven otherwise. So is
everyone else in this house. I realize that effectively
shuts me out of most of the details in this investigation.
But the person I trust won’t be shut out. He’s here to be
sure other aspects of the investigation don’t stall while
you’re wasting your time eliminating us as suspects." When
the CBI agent would have spoken, he waved aside his protest.
"I’m not waiting two years to bring my little girl home this
time."
He made a slight gesture and Alden got to his feet, as
well. "I recognize there’s information that you won’t share
in my presence, so Mark and I will leave now. I want to be
there for Althea when they’ve finished with her."
The room was silent as the men left, shutting the door
behind them. Upon their exit, Whitman eased his bulk back in
is chair and eyed Raiker. "Your inclusion here puts us in a
dilemma. You have to realize that."
"The thing about dilemmas is they always have solutions."
Adam’s voice was no less steely. "Consider those solutions,
Agent. You can’t afford not to utilize us."
The other man rubbed the folds at the back of his neck.
"You have to. . ." He paused them, seemed to choose his
words more carefully. "I’m suggesting that you avoid any
conflict of interest by waiting for my people to complete
the search of the premises. So far, this floor has been
cleared. I’ve got a crime scene responders’ unit going over
the girl’s room right now."
"And once they’re done, we have free access to the
property and copies of any and all reports as they’re
formulated." Raiker clearly knew how to play the game. "My
people will be included in all briefings and task assignments."
"The information is a two way street." The agent looked
at Macy and Kellan, making no attempt to mask his expression
now that Mulder had gone. The man was plainly unhappy with
their presence. "If I learn that you’ve withheld something
from me, you’re off the case and I’Il have you detained for
obstruction."
Macy noted Raiker’s fingers clenching around the
intricately carved knob of his cane. It was his only sign of
temper. His voice, when it came, was silky. "Threats are the
realm of the unimaginative. You’ve got some very powerful
people lined up behind Steven Mulder. They were summoned
because the investigation into the previous kidnapping of
Ellie Mulder went nowhere."
"And you were the superstar there. Yeah, I got that."
Curiously, the squaring off seemed to have eased something
in the other man. "I knew your rep when you were with the
bureau." His gaze lingered on Raiker then, as if taking in
the eye patch and the scars on his throat and hands. "Got
another earful about your outfit from my director. As long
as we understand each other, I think we ought to get along
well enough."
His gaze traveled between her and Burke. "Which of you is
the forensic linguist?"
"I am."
His gaze settled on Macy then. "We don’t have a ransom
note. At least nothing’s been found yet. But if the offender
is going to reach out, I’d expect it to be fairly soon. Give
him time to see the girl secured and then turn his attention
to the next matter."
"I have a few contacts in the penal department." Macy was
certain Adam’s words were a gross understatement. The man
seemed to know people everywhere. "Everyone scooped up in
that last case where Ellie was rescued is accounted for in
his respective prison."
"And there’s no one else out there that maybe slipped by
you guys?" The gibe was nearly hidden in Whitman’s words.
"How can you be sure you got everyone affiliated with that
case?"
Raiker lifted a shoulder. "I had no reason to suspect
otherwise, but anything is possible. That’s why I’m
arranging another round of interviews with each suspect
involved. I’ve got phone calls in to each warden to set them
up."
"Video?"
"In person."
The special agent grunted. "That’ll save us some serious
time and manpower."
"When will we have access to the scene? And the rest of
the house?"
Macy caught the barely discernible note of frustration in
Kell’s voice. She seconded it. As private forensics
consultants, it was rare to be called in on a fresh crime
scene. This was one of the quickest callouts she’d ever
participated in, and they were effectively being shut away
from the scene for several more hours, if not longer.
"When the crime scene evidence recovery unit is finished.
It’ll be evening at the earliest. Until then, you can
participate in the interviews of the employees. They’ve
already started and will probably take us most of the day."
"How many people are we talking about?"
Whitman glanced down at a sheet of paper in front of him.
But before he could answer Macy’s question, Adam said,
"Mulder employs over thirty full and part-time employees in
the winter months. That would include the daughter’s teacher
and various instructors; piano, dance, whatnot."
"How many live on the grounds?"
"None live in the house," the special agent said, "but
the teacher has an apartment over one of the garages. A
mechanic, two stable hands and a couple groundskeepers have
places above various other outbuildings. Everyone else lives
offsite." He consulted his notes again. "Half a dozen
security officers, six maids, two drivers, three cooks, one
personal assistant—a sort of secretary to Mrs. Mulder--a
hairdresser, masseuse. . .it’s like a damn village around here."
"And how many of those people were on the grounds
yesterday?" Kell asked.
"In addition to the family there were thirty on the
property at some point." He lifted a shoulder. "A few never
made it in because of the weather. Others left early. All
have been notified that they’re wanted in for questioning.
About three quarters have arrived so far. A couple business
associates were on the property yesterday, too, as Mulder
was working from home. His lawyer, Mark Alden, who you met.
Lance Spencer, the firm’s accountant and Tessa Amundson, Mr.
Mulder’s executive secretary. By his account, which was
verified by Alden, they worked through lunch and dinner,
with everyone departing by seven-thirty."
"You would have looked at the tapes first," Macy noted.
She wondered if the agent had been getting to that or if he
wouldn’t have brought it up if she hadn’t asked. "They’ve
got live video feed, right? That means a security station
inside the property with someone manning the cameras.
Something had to have shown up on them."
"Nothing that we’ve found yet. But we’ve only been at it
a couple hours. I’ve got some of the best techs in the
agency going over that feed. Whatever is there, we’ll find it."
"How many of the security officers have arrived?"
Macy shot Kell an approving glance. They were on the same
page. Right now, she was most interested in the interviews
of the security officers. One of them had to know something
or at least have intriguing ideas. No one knew the ins and
outs of the estate’s safety precautions better.
"Two were on site when we got here. All but one of the
others has arrived."
"Tell us about the security specs." Raiker had assumed a
careless slouch. Macy recognized that the position relieved
the cramps that frequently seized his leg. She knew better
than to call attention to it.
"Well, you saw the twelve foot walls around the
perimeter," Whitman said dryly. "The grounds are secured by
cameras mounted every seventy feet, and motion detectors.
Two criteria are required for an alarm to sound—pixel change
on the camera and motion on the sensors. The guard station
is manned twenty-four seven. Gates don’t open without
keycard ID and thumbprint identification. Then the vehicles
and their undercarriages are inspected before they’re
allowed through. The same procedure is followed when exiting."
Raiker’s voice was sharp. "But the guard out front has
override powers."
"No. Override can only be done from the inside. But we’ve
found no record of that yesterday. We’re looking deeper."
Burke was exuding impatience. In a corner of her mind
Macy was slightly disturbed to realize she knew the man well
enough to read him so well. But his emotion mirrored her
own. "Let’s get to those interviews then," she said.
"Starting with Mulder’s security team." There didn’t appear
to be any way to get on to the estate without security
knowing about it.
Which meant one of the members of the team may have been
involved in Ellie’s kidnapping.
"You’ve got people out there looking, right?" Chief of
Security Ben Cramer folded his arms across his massive
chest, his midnight gaze unwavering. "While you’re wasting
your time on us, the trail’s going to shit. Whoever snatched
the kid could have her out of the state while you sit here
with your thumbs up your asses. We’re paid damn well to keep
the family safe. My team’s the last place you ought to be
looking."
"You’re head of Mulder’s security." CBI agent in charge
Dan Travis ignored the man’s question, and his insult. "You
know the specifications better than anyone else. What’s the
weakness in the system?"
"There isn’t one." Cramer’s response was immediate. "With
all the checks and balances in place, there’s no way an
unauthorized individual can come on the grounds, waltz in
the house, grab the kid and get out again. I have a team of
six rotating through twenty-four hour security; two man
shifts of twelve hours each, three days a week."
Travis looked ponderous as he did some mental math. "That
leaves you with a couple men two days short for their full
week."
"Which gives us extra hands to deal with vacations and
for those times Mr. Mulder requires personal protection. You
think we’re a bunch of novices here? I provided security for
every major U.S. diplomat to visit Iraq during the first
couple years of the war. I earned my chops dodging roadside
bombs, not pushing papers."
"No system is flawless," Macy put in crisply. Cramer’s
attitude wasn’t totally unexpected, since it reflected that
of the other men they’d interviewed from his team. "The girl
is gone. Either an intruder entered the estate--"
"—Impossible," the man interjected.
"—or someone known to her carried her away. Either way,
there should be video of it."
Cramer’s gaze traveled from one of them to the other.
"I’m guessing if you’d found it you wouldn’t be wasting time
talking to me."
"The fact that we haven’t discovered anything on the
cameras should worry you, Cramer." Travis leaned forward,
his square jaw tight. "Either there’s a major flaw in the
system—which, as head of security, you should have
discovered—or the video feed was disrupted in some way,
which again, should have been foreseen."
Cramer gave a short caustic laugh. "If you think every
possible turn of events can be anticipated, you’ve been in
your ivory tower too long."
"That’s exactly what we’re talking about." Macy eyed the
two men cautiously. They looked like a couple strange dogs,
snarling and snapping at each other, readying to lunge. "She
didn’t just vanish into thin air. Whether you want to admit
it or not, there was some sort of security breakdown. Your
team is obviously best acquainted with the specs of the
system. Either one of them is involved, or there was a huge
failure of some sort. Convince us of which it was."
The other man hesitated, as if seeing the trap in her
words. Finally he ran a hand over his graying buzzed hair
and said guardedly, "There are always improvements that can
be made."
"Such as?"
He flicked a look at the CBI agent, but Travis remained
silent, apparently willing for Macy to take the lead for the
moment. "I suggested several times to Mr. Mulder that there
should be cameras inside the house. A couple men posted in
here. He always refused. Said he wanted to keep his daughter
safe but didn’t want her to feel like she was a prisoner
anymore."
Macy’s skin prickled. Of course, Cooper would have had
some sort of surveillance monitoring the girl while he’d
kept her captive. He’d continued to work and socialize, to
volunteer at a local soup kitchen and serve as a lector in
his church. Although she didn’t know all the details of that
case, she imagined he’d kept the child locked up. Maybe used
a computer and web cam to keep track of her throughout the day.
It was understandable that her father wouldn’t have
wanted any reminders of that surveillance for his daughter
when she was returned home.
"What else?"
Cramer lifted a shoulder. "Isn’t it enough? I pointed out
that if we allowed people access—repairmen, caterers—maybe
one stays behind. Hides in the house. Place is big as a
fortress. He bides his time, maybe fills his pockets. Maybe
plans an assault. So Mr. Mulder took other precautions. They
never entertain here, always in their penthouse in the city
without the kid around. And anyone let in from the outside
like that, a couple of my men are allowed to accompany them
inside. Stay with them the entire time and then escort them
back out to their vehicle again."
"The log doesn’t show any outside access for the last
nine weeks," Agent Travis pointed out.
Cramer shrugged again. With his yard wide shoulders, he
could have doubled as a linebacker. "There isn’t much
traffic through here. Mr. Mulder, he’s careful about
bringing anyone new on the property. Takes months just to
get security clearance on new employees."
Prisons could have different walls. It occurred to Macy
that Ellie Mulder had been just as much a captive here as
she’d been with Cooper. Raiker had mentioned a teacher
living on the premises. Apparently the child wasn’t even
allowed to attend school, for fear of risking her safety.
"Anything like that, the exterior cameras still would
have picked up the guy exiting the house," the agent put in.
"It’s my job to point out weaknesses to the boss." Cramer
shrugged. "I was satisfied with the alternate precautions we
put in place. But you asked about flaws. That’s the only one
I came across when we went over the specs before putting
system in place."
"Who has access to the security cameras and codes?"
"My men work the front gate or monitor the cameras. I’m
the only one on the team with the override code." He
immediately corrected himself. "At least the first half of
the set. Two code strings are necessary to override the
cameras or turn them off. And I wasn’t on the property at
all yesterday."
"Who has both sets of codes?"
"Mulder. And the company that designed the system."
Travis gave a humorless smile. "Smart guy like you, you
could probably figure out a way around that second set of
codes and circumvent the system at a time of your choosing."
The two men exchanged hard stares. "You need to talk to
the security company," Cramer snapped. "It can’t be done.
That’s why it’s cutting edge. That’s why it cost nearly a
half a million bucks."
"You realize you’ve just indicated Steven Mulder is the
only person who could have gotten his daughter off this
estate without any video recording of it."
"The hell I did." Macy thought for a moment the security
chief was going to come across the table at the agent’s
suggestion. "That was your scenario, remember? There’s no
way in hell Mulder arranged to have his own daughter
snatched. You see the lengths the man went to in order to
protect her?"
"Yeah, everything’s impossible, according to you." Temper
was leaking through Travis’s formally professional tone.
"Except the girl’s gone. And you’re sitting here trying to
convince us it couldn’t happen. Not with you at the security
helm. Well, if that’s true, how the hell did she get off the
property?"
"Maybe she didn’t."
Macy’s gaze flew up; distracted momentarily from the
notes she was scribbling about the interview. "What do you
mean?"
Cramer jerked his head toward the CBI agent. "His outfit
couldn’t find their asses with an extra set of hands. Since
me and my men weren’t allowed to help search, I’m not
convinced she isn’t still in the house somewhere."
"You have some spots you suggest we check out?" The
agent’s tone was silky.
Cramer didn’t take the bait. "Oh you probably looked real
hard at the places a kid’s body could be stashed. We’ve got
two feet of snow outside. She could be anywhere on the
grounds. Or in the house. Trouble with you guys is you don’t
look for the unexpected."
"Maybe you’d like to—"
Fed up with the two men, Macy interrupted Travis. "What
aren’t we looking for?"
For a minute she thought the security chief wouldn’t
answer. He seemed to be having a difficult time
contemplating whether it was worth it to take a swing at the
CBI agent. Then after several long moments he broke eye
contact with the other man to look at her.
"Like I say, they’re looking for a spot big enough to
hide a kid." The man’s expression didn’t change, but his
eyes went bleak. "Maybe you ought to be searching smaller
spots. Just big enough to hide pieces of her."
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