Mindhunters 4 - Deadly Intent Read Online Free PDF Page B

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