by Kylie Brant
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 onto 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 to 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 webcam 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 the 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 Stephen 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.”
Chapter 2
“You think Cramer’s involved?”
Whitman was alone in the conference room. But Macy didn’t have more than a moment to wonder at Raiker’s whereabouts. Travis didn’t so much as hesitate before responding to the question.
“I think it’s a possibility.” He ran his hand over his short-cropped dark hair. “I’d bet money he did a lot more in Iraq than drive diplomats around.”
The assistant director looked at Macy. “You were there. What was your impression?”
“Cramer’s understandably defensive,” she said. “Ellie disappeared on his watch. He may not have been here yesterday, but he’s in charge, so the failure’s his. I found his demeanor to be in keeping with that feeling of responsibility, not necessarily as a sign of personal involvement.”
Whitman’s gaze shifted to settle on Kell. “What about the other interviews?”
He lifted a shoulder. “All the guards claim Cramer doesn’t have both sets of codes necessary to override the system, and Mulder verifies that. It doesn’t sound as though any on the security team had open access to the house. Personal protection wasn’t part of their duties while on the property. If it’s someone known to the girl, I’d bet on a person who’s regularly inside the home.”
“I say we need to dig deeper into Cramer’s background,” Travis insisted stubbornly. “He kept referring to his experience. I’d be interested in exactly what all he was involved in while in Iraq.”
“We’re looking at everyone’s backgrounds,” Whitman said. “Should have some preliminary data soon. Dobson is handling that end.” He inclined his head toward the thin balding agent sitting at the end of the table with his head bent over a computer. “What’s the feel from the rest of the security team you’ve interviewed?”
“We’ve talked to all but one. A”—Travis checked his notes—“Nicholas Hubbard. He hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Everyone says the same thing.” Kell drummed his fingers on the table. “Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in over two months, and that was just a visit from the satellite TV company. The team seems tight. They accept Cramer as the leader. Seem to respect him. He and this Hubbard sound like they’re the brains as far as the cameras go. A couple others have some extra training with alarm systems.”
Whitman’s interest sharpened. “Enough training to allow them to circumvent the system?”
Kell looked dubious. “Anything’s possible. But the security company rep I called maintains it would be unlikely. They claim they don’t even have anyone on their staff capable of it, and they install the things.”
Travis snorted. “Like they’d admit their product was easily manipulated.”
Whitman’s chair creaked as he redistributed his bulk. “So Hubbard’s your last interview for the security members? When’s he expected in?”
“I called him. Twice. Said he’d be right here. Gave me the exact same line both times, verbatim,” Travis informed them. “Probably should contact him again to see if he’s left this time. He only lives twenty-five minutes away. I can’t believe it takes an hour, even in this weather.”
As usual, Macy found herself sidetracked by words. “Verbatim? Or close to it?”
Travis frowned, his blue eyes narrowing. “Verbatim. Answers the phone by saying ‘Hubbard.’ Listens a couple seconds then says, ‘Be right there.’ But he was still home the second time I called, so he obviously wasn’t in a . . .”
Kell and Macy’s chairs scraped as they pushed them back and rose as one. Travis seemed to catch on a moment later and jumped to his feet.
“It was a recording,” Whitman said in disgust. He was already reaching for his cell phone as the three of them headed for the door. “I’ll get the DPD over to his address right away and have them sit on the place until you get there.”
Macy shrugged into her coat and pulled her hat out of her pocket, pulling it on as she strode through the office door. The man didn’t have to voice the rest of the remark. It was highly unlikely that Hubbard was still at his house. He’d had plenty of time to run.
Very possibly with Ellie Mulder in tow.
Settled in the backseat with Agent Travis at the wheel, Macy dialed the number the agent had given her for Hubbard. After three rings it was picked up. In an eerie replay of the agent’s recital, the disembodied low voice growled, “Hubbard.” Remaining silent, she waited for the rest of it. Several moments later that same voice said, “Be right there,” and the call was disconnected.
Thoughtfully, Macy redialed. Listened again. There was nothing of note in the words themselves, or in their tone.
“Does Hubbard live in a house or a flat?”
“Flat?” Kell slid a glance at the silent agent driving beside him. “This Hubbard live in London by any chance?”
“Denver,” the agent said shortly. He was plainly still annoyed that he’d bungled on Hubbard’s call.
Annoyed, she corrected herself. “Apartment, then.” Trust Burke to catch her slip and make a big deal out of it. “Do we know if he lives alone?”
“Her accent tends to be more pronounced when she’s heated up over something,” Burke said in an aside to the agent. “Friendly word of warning, she can get real haughty, too. She’s got this whole duchess-to-serf attitude that she slaps you alongside the head with when you piss her off.”
“I most certainly do not have an accent.” Hearing the crisp clip to her words, Macy silently damned her British boarding schools. “And I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a slap alongside the head.” She almost delivered it, too, when she caught his meaningful glance at Travis, and the agent’s small grin.
Fuming, she sat back in the seat and stared out the window, which was already decorated with a thick collection of fat flakes since it’d been cleaned off at the estate. The snow wasn’t heavy enough for visibility to be a problem, but there was still plenty on the road, which didn’t look as though it had seen a snowplow recently. It was entirely possible that the missing security agent, Hubbard, had run his car into the ditch on the way there.
She’d almost believe it, if not for the voice mail recording.
It had served its purpose well enough. Everyone else on the security team had expressed shock, bravado, or anger at the girl’s disappearance. Hubbard should have been there, doing everything in his power to convince them, as his fellow team members had, that he wasn’t involved. That none of them could be involved.
His absence pointed a neon guilty arrow in his direction. The prerecorded phone message bought him time. But time to do what?
She didn’t know the answer but was fairly certain his place would be empty by the time the patrol officers got there.
“According to the records Mulder keeps, Hubbard has a house,” the agent answered belatedly. “The team all rotates four days on and three off. Hubbard worked until four yesterday afternoon.”
“And do the cameras have him on tape leaving the estate after his shift?”
There was silence in the vehicle in response to Burke’s question. What had or hadn’t been captured on tape was still a mystery. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask Raiker. He’d still been nowhere in sight when they’d left the estate, and she needed to update him anyway.
Macy pressed the speed dial number for him on her cell phone and was rewarded a moment later with his familiar brusque tone. “You took off fast.”
“We’re chasing down the last of the security guards. The only one who didn’t show up for an interview.”
“Hubbard. Whitman and I are in the camera room right now. We’ve got enough to get a warrant for his house.”
For the benefit of the two men in the car, she repeated, “You’re getting a warrant for Hubbard’s place?”
Burke jerked around in his seat as far as his seat belt would allow, staring hard at her.
To forestall the litany of questions sure to tumble off his lips, she switched the settings on the cell to speakerphone. “I assume you’re looking at yesterday’s feed.” Adrenaline was doing a fast sprint up her spine. “Do you have footage of the girl’s disappearance?”
“The techs are still working on that. But we have footage of Hubbard coming to work yesterday. We just don’t have anything showing him leaving.”
“Son of a bitch,” Kell muttered.
“Then his vehicle could still be on the property somewhere?” Macy’s mind was working furiously.
“One would think.” Raiker’s voice was dry. “But who knows? If we don’t have feed of anyone leaving with the girl, why should we be surprised that there’s no video record of Hubbard’s car leaving?” His voice went muffled then, and she could hear conversation in the background.
“What’s going on?” Kell demanded impatiently. “Who’s he talking to?”
Macy ignored him. It was frequently the best solution. And one she’d often wished she’d chosen six months ago.
Travis said, “There’s a large garage at the west end of the property for employee use. One of the agents would have been dispatched to take license and model information of all those vehicles right away this morning.”