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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.”
    “But have they been matched with the owners?” Since none of them had an answer to her question, it remained largely rhetorical. Macy could feel her own impatience rising until Raiker finally came back on the line.
    “Hubbard’s car is still in the employee garage,” Raiker said. “It’s doubtful you’ll find anyone at his place, but wait for an officer to show up with the warrant. I’ve been assured it’ll be expedited.”
    “When can we expect . . .” The line went dead. Experience had her certain it was her boss’s usual abruptness to blame rather than phone malfunction.
    “Great.” Movements jerky with frustration, Kell exchanged his glasses for prescription sunglasses. “Looks like Hubbard is in this up to his neck. And we’ll be freezing our respective asses off waiting hours for a warrant before we can get inside his place for a look. Hope this heap has a good heater.”
    “CBI isn’t exactly the neighborhood watch.” The tail end of the car fishtailed then, and expertly Travis counter-steered out of the one-hundred-eighty-degree spin. “Whitman will get the warrant, and it won’t take all day, either. Look at it this way—we could be stuck at the estate, typing up interviews. Whitman’s making noises about sticking someone with those duties, at least until he can get a secretary out there.”
    Macy caught his eye on her in the rearview mirror and lied blandly, “I don’t type.” Although she shared Burke’s frustration with the situation, she thought