Mindhunters 4 - Deadly Intent (26 page)

Macy was already shaking her head. “There’s no way he’s going to take the chance of being discovered by tourists or rangers . . .”

The smile that Cramer flashed held genuine amusement. “I’m not talking Central Park here. Colorado still has spots that have never been explored, like the West Elk Wilderness area in the center of the Gunnison National. The Weminuche Wilderness area is situated between Silverton and Wolf Creek Pass. No highways through it, only logging roads. The Maroon Bells and Snowmass Wilderness area near Marble is another possibility. Of course, you’re banking that the kidnapper would go to the trouble of keeping the girl alive long enough to need a secluded spot to keep her.”

The matter-of-fact tone the man used had Macy’s blood running cold. “You don’t think he would?”

He gave a roll of his massive shoulders. “Depends if he needs her. Has there been a ransom demand?”

When he was met only with stony silence, he gave another shrug. “If ransom is the motivation, yeah, there’s a possibility the girl’s alive, although he doesn’t necessarily need her to collect. Brings on a whole new level of risk. But I can see him keeping her as his ace in the hole. What if he has to provide proof of life to collect? So if ransom is behind this, there’s a chance she’s alive out there somewhere.”

His final words echoed and reechoed hollowly in Macy’s mind. “But your chances of finding her in an area like those? Slim and none.”

“I can’t work like this, Macy. I
refuse
to work like this.”

Jonesy was nearly quivering in indignation. And the headache that had spawned a couple hours earlier sprang forth full force to rap at the base of Macy’s skull.

“I have my orders.” Nellie Trimball, the tech sent from the state crime lab, was tall and spare, and even given the extra height provided by his Mohawk, towered over Jonesy by a good six inches. Her long thin legs were sensibly covered in wool, and her feet encased in knee-high rubber boots. She began to unwrap a yard-long gray scarf from a cranelike neck as she continued. “I preserve the chain of evidence and provide quality control on all tests run.”

“Quality control!” Jonesy’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Listen, lady, I
am
quality. I invented quality. The day I need some CBI drone hanging over my shoulder like a human ostrich critiquing my work is the day they’ll be kissing my powder white ass in hell.”

The visual image that obligingly flashed across Macy’s mind at his colorful words did nothing to make the pounding in her head subside. “Now, Jonesy . . .”

“I’m lab manager at the state lab in Denver,” snapped the other woman. Macy blamed Jonesy’s apt description for making her think Nellie’s long thin nose and neck made her resemble the ostrich he’d mentioned. “Whatever your experience is, I can match it and then some.” She yanked off a loosely knit cap to expose brown hair sensibly fashioned into a bun at the back of her head. Macy had the errant thought that Kell would hate the hat even more than he did hers. “If your scientific expertise matches your fashion sense, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Jonesy hooted at that, raking Nellie with a withering gaze. “Fashion sense? It just so happens . . .”

“Enough!” Macy’s raised voice held enough snap that they both stopped and looked at her. Taking a deep breath, she resisted the urge to rub at the pain throbbing above her nape. “CBI Director Lanscombe verified Ms. Trimball’s credentials and her orders. He’s adamant that she”—here her voice faltered for a moment; Lanscombe’s word had been
oversee
, but there was fat chance of that occurring—“provide cooperative assistance on each test.” Both Jonesy and Trimball began protesting loudly at this, and she raised her voice to be heard over them. “I can’t believe either of you would turn down an extra pair of hands. Do I have to remind you what’s at stake here?”

Jonesy and Nellie quieted simultaneously, although Jonesy still looked sulky.

Macy continued in the sternest tone she could summon. “We’re under deadline. So far we’ve gotten little for test results.” Trimball’s cheeks flushed, but she said nothing. “So I suggest you both figure out a way to work together and have something solid ready for Raiker when he returns.”

“When will that be?”

“Tonight or tomorrow.”

The two exchanged a look. “That’s not much time,” observed Trimball. Her eyes, Macy noted, were a surprisingly lovely shade of bluish green behind thick lenses.

“All the more reason for the two of you to get to work.” Shifting her focus to Jonesy, she noticed the expression of defiance lingering on his face. “Unless either of you want to call Raiker and Lanscombe to voice your objections to them.”

Jonesy’s defiance faded abruptly, to be replaced by chagrin. “As long as she remembers whose lab it is, we’ll be fine.”

“And as long as he realizes my expertise at least equals his, I’m certain we can get along well enough together,” Nellie added stiffly.

Certain she’d merely achieved the calm before a storm, Macy decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat. “Good. I look forward to hearing about your findings. You have my number?” This to Jonesy, who nodded. “Great. Give me a call if you need anything.”

Losing no time, she headed back in the direction of the house, the sound of voices following her. “Is this your conversion van? You can leave your coat and things in the front seat. The garage is heated. Where’s the transferred evidence? In the back?”

“You aren’t touching any of it until you’re gowned and gloved appropriately. Where’d you learn your sanitary habits, a high school biology lab?”

“Look, lady, let’s get something straight . . .”

Macy walked more rapidly until she could slip out of the garage side door and the rest of the words were blessedly lost behind her. It occurred to her that she’d had to deal with more controversy today than in all the time since they arrived.

Pulling the phone from her pocket, she checked it again for messages and found nothing from Kell. Despite the frigid nip in the air, she yanked off her gloves and shoved them in her pockets while she sent him another text, not bothering to couch this one in polite language.

She could blame the headache on her surliness, but there was no doubt that the lack of response from Kellan Burke was playing its hand in her temper, as well.

Chapter 10

Macy was in the middle of diagramming Becker’s statement when her cell rang. Without looking up from her work, she sent out a searching hand for the cell phone, and brought it up to check the caller ID. Not even to herself did she admit the quick flare of disappointment that it wasn’t Kell. It was too much to hope for that the man would take a moment to update her on the raid when he’d failed to do so for Adam.

The number was unfamiliar. And it was surely her recent conversation with her boss that had her answering warily, even after mentally assuring herself that Enrique Castillo wouldn’t have access to her cell number, even if he had access to telephone privileges.

“Reid,” she answered crisply.

“Very official sounding,” came a familiar teasing voice. “Hard to imagine that this is the same woman who melts into a puddle of ecstasy at the very smell of Henri’s cordon bleu.”

The tension streamed out of her. “Ian.” She sank down on the corner of the bed, genuine enjoyment suffusing her. “Where are you calling from?”

Her stepfather rarely stayed in the same place for long. Perhaps he’d been born with wanderlust or maybe it was a logical affliction stemming from his years working British embassies across the world. From South America to the Middle East, she’d traveled with him after her mother’s death to wherever he was posted, until she’d attended boarding school in her teens. Since his retirement five years ago, she’d bet he hadn’t spent more than a few months at a time at any of his homes.

“I’m at the villa in Naples, feeling jet-lagged and exhausted.” His merry voice sounded anything but. “Thinking of staying awhile and wondering if I can convince you to come for a visit. It’s been much too long.”

A flicker of guilt stabbed her. “I’m sorry my Christmas visit got postponed. A case came up . . .”

“And you were needed.” She could almost imagine his negligent shrug. He wouldn’t try to make her feel guilty. Ian had always understood. As a former workaholic, he should. “But I know you’ll want to make it up to me, and you do love the villa.”

“I do,” she agreed, smiling. “Will you still be there next month? I think I can arrange some free time by then.”

“If it means getting you to myself for a week or two, you’d better believe I’m staying put. When you nail your arrangements down, let me know so I can arrange for a bangin’ knees-up.”

“I don’t need a party. I’ll welcome some quiet time with just the two of us.”

“Maybe you’ll stay long enough for a short cruise,” he mused. She could almost see the wheels in his mind working. “I have some people I want you to meet, and there’s nothing more relaxing than a few days at sea.”

Giving up, she let him plan. Ian needed people around him the way she needed occasional bouts of solitude. They each had their own methods of coping. “Whatever you plan will be fine. I’ll try to get away for ten days so we can have plenty of time together.”

“Ten days.” His voice was pleased. “I’ll count myself among the luckiest men on earth for ten days with the loveliest woman in the northern hemisphere.”

Amused, she said, “Flattery has always been wasted on me, but I appreciate the effort.”

A small sound alerted her, and she looked behind her. Kell stood in the doorway, his expression grim. Abruptly, her stomach did a nosedive.

“Listen, Ian, can I call you back? I have to get to work.”

His voice was good-natured. “Of course you do. Don’t forget to update me about your plans, say in a couple weeks? And I’ll have everything ready for you. I’m looking forward to this, Macy-kidder. It’s been too long.”

The familiar nickname would have softened something inside her if she weren’t so concerned about Kell’s unexpected appearance. “I will. Promise.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She disconnected and wondered when Kell’s face seemed to grow even darker. “I didn’t think you were ever getting back. Would it have killed you to update me?”

“Sorry to cut your phone call short,” he drawled, his tone sounding anything but apologetic. “Hope your boyfriend is the understanding sort.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment before comprehension filtered in. If he wanted to think she’d been trading sweet nothings with a man friend, she certainly wasn’t going to burst his bubble. It was none of his blasted business anyway. “The raid,” she reminded him.

He walked farther into the room and dropped, for once, into a chair rather than on the rumpled bed. “The family in the residence is headed by a single mother. There’s also an elderly grandmother in the home, not exactly the desperado type, who spent most of the time threatening to call the police. A teenage boy who looks like his major interests in life are gory Wii games and reconnecting with his estranged father. All were scared out of their wits by having their door caved in, in the middle of the night, as you can imagine.”

Impatience rose. “Do they have a computer?”

He gave a slow nod. “A Dell laptop with wireless access that isn’t secured. It was confiscated, much to the teenage boy’s dismay, but a quick check by one of the agents found nothing in the sent mail to indicate the ransom note came from that computer.”

“It might be buried,” she reminded him. “Or hidden somehow. Remember how long it took them to get information from the computers running the cameras on the estate?”

“Maybe.” He stretched his legs. “Maybe we’ll discover that Nancy Elliott—that’s the single mom’s name—is yet another girlfriend of Nick Hubbard, who allows him to use her computer to send threatening notes. But more likely we’ll find that whoever sent the damn thing just cruised the streets with an unregistered computer and paused in front of a house that had an unsecured network to send from.”

“Did you at least get written samples from everyone in the house for me to compare to the ransom note?”

“I did.” His eyes glinted. “How could I not, when the order you texted to me was phrased so delicately?”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I had something of a trying day.”

“If it can top having Whitman spend the day trying to remove you from the investigation, I’m all ears.” To her dismay, he toed his boots off and stretched, looking for all the world as though he were settling in for a time.

“Not surprising, given his past history. I spent the last few hours smoothing over one confrontation after another.” She gave him a shortened version of the showdown between Jonesy and Nellie Trimball. “I haven’t heard from him since. I only hope they don’t kill each other before getting us some results, finally.”

“Jonesy’s here?” Kell perked up at that. She recognized his reaction. For all his quirks, and the man had more than his share of them, he was the most brilliant forensic scientist in Raiker’s employ. “Maybe we’re going to get some answers at last.”

She checked her watch. “Probably should give him a few hours.” Guilt flickered. She hadn’t mentioned food to the technician, although he’d seemed far more interested in getting his lab set up than in eating. “Maybe you can give him a call and find out if he’s hungry. You could get him something from the kitchen and take it out to him.”