called the police. It also mentioned Julie Forman, who Lisa had been staying with for the past week.
Evidently, Julie Forman was the reason the case was being kept open. Seemed she’d packed up, quit her jobs, and taken off right after the murder. The reason she’d given her employers and landlord was that she was too freaked out to continue living in a place where a guest in her home had been killed right outside the front door. She’d even gone so far as to tell the landlord he could sell whatever of hers he wanted to. She just wanted out. She’d never even talked to the police—she was gone by the time they’d tried to contact her.
We’re talking one extreme reaction, Ryan thought. Not only that, but it all happened at the exact same time that ScoobyDoo was desperate to disappear, as well.
That was two too many coincidences for Ryan.
Somehow either one or both of them had been involved in Lisa’s death—either directly or indirectly.
He’d go back to Miles Parker’s foster care files now, see if he had any violent tendencies. But, after that, Ryan had one goal in mind.
He had to find not only Miles Parker but Julie Forman.
CHAPTER NINE
Dr. Maxim Lubinov’s Vermont estate was large yet incredibly well hidden.
Located high in the Green Mountains of Burlington, Vermont, it covered twenty-five vast private acres. The manor itself was set far, far back from the country road, swallowed up by thick-treed terrain, where no passerby could see it.
Exactly how Max wanted it.
He’d spared no expense in the building and decorating of the manor itself, specifically because he’d be the main occupant enjoying it. Oh, there were many others living on the premises—everyone from Dmitry to his medical staff to his technicians. But they were there at his bidding and could be dismissed at any time he chose.
Max’s living and sleeping quarters were appointed with oriental rugs, exquisite upholsteries, and polished teak furniture. The furnishings originated in the Far East, Scandinavia, and Europe, particularly Paris—a myriad of differing cultures and manufacturers, producing a combination of contrasting colors and styles that somehow worked when they were integrated. The vaulted ceilings were so high that they gave the impression the place was a castle. And the panoramic view of the exquisite Green Mountains was visible from every corner of the house, along with the beauty of Lake Champlain at its feet.
In addition, Max had had an entire extension wing built for the cerebral testing center and the high-tech workout rooms that were trials for his research, and which were always in use. Trainers, doctors, psychologists—his entire staff was usually on duty and always on call. The well-oiled machine needed little supervision, but Max was in every room every day to get updates.
Still, none of that was the heart and soul of Max’s work. That jewel was located behind the house, where he spent most of his time and where he was headed now.
He strode through the house, glancing at his watch as he did. Slava had called in an hour ago to report their location. In forty more minutes, Jim Robbins would arrive, escorted by Slava, Alexei, and Vitaliy. That moron Robbins thought he was being invited to the home of his never-before-met brilliant employer for social niceties. He had no idea that he was being invited to his own execution.
He’d find out soon enough.
Grabbing a jacket from the coat closet as he walked by, Max left the manor through the rear patio doors. He headed directly to the barn complex, which had been built by the finest craftsmen—with the tightest lips—to his specifications.
Situated five hundred feet from the rear of the manor itself, it was a master architectural achievement and an equally master camouflage.
The exterior looked like a series of beautiful stone and heavy wood-beam buildings, ostensibly part offices, part stables, part veterinary clinic, and part garage. But appearances were
Evidently, Julie Forman was the reason the case was being kept open. Seemed she’d packed up, quit her jobs, and taken off right after the murder. The reason she’d given her employers and landlord was that she was too freaked out to continue living in a place where a guest in her home had been killed right outside the front door. She’d even gone so far as to tell the landlord he could sell whatever of hers he wanted to. She just wanted out. She’d never even talked to the police—she was gone by the time they’d tried to contact her.
We’re talking one extreme reaction, Ryan thought. Not only that, but it all happened at the exact same time that ScoobyDoo was desperate to disappear, as well.
That was two too many coincidences for Ryan.
Somehow either one or both of them had been involved in Lisa’s death—either directly or indirectly.
He’d go back to Miles Parker’s foster care files now, see if he had any violent tendencies. But, after that, Ryan had one goal in mind.
He had to find not only Miles Parker but Julie Forman.
CHAPTER NINE
Dr. Maxim Lubinov’s Vermont estate was large yet incredibly well hidden.
Located high in the Green Mountains of Burlington, Vermont, it covered twenty-five vast private acres. The manor itself was set far, far back from the country road, swallowed up by thick-treed terrain, where no passerby could see it.
Exactly how Max wanted it.
He’d spared no expense in the building and decorating of the manor itself, specifically because he’d be the main occupant enjoying it. Oh, there were many others living on the premises—everyone from Dmitry to his medical staff to his technicians. But they were there at his bidding and could be dismissed at any time he chose.
Max’s living and sleeping quarters were appointed with oriental rugs, exquisite upholsteries, and polished teak furniture. The furnishings originated in the Far East, Scandinavia, and Europe, particularly Paris—a myriad of differing cultures and manufacturers, producing a combination of contrasting colors and styles that somehow worked when they were integrated. The vaulted ceilings were so high that they gave the impression the place was a castle. And the panoramic view of the exquisite Green Mountains was visible from every corner of the house, along with the beauty of Lake Champlain at its feet.
In addition, Max had had an entire extension wing built for the cerebral testing center and the high-tech workout rooms that were trials for his research, and which were always in use. Trainers, doctors, psychologists—his entire staff was usually on duty and always on call. The well-oiled machine needed little supervision, but Max was in every room every day to get updates.
Still, none of that was the heart and soul of Max’s work. That jewel was located behind the house, where he spent most of his time and where he was headed now.
He strode through the house, glancing at his watch as he did. Slava had called in an hour ago to report their location. In forty more minutes, Jim Robbins would arrive, escorted by Slava, Alexei, and Vitaliy. That moron Robbins thought he was being invited to the home of his never-before-met brilliant employer for social niceties. He had no idea that he was being invited to his own execution.
He’d find out soon enough.
Grabbing a jacket from the coat closet as he walked by, Max left the manor through the rear patio doors. He headed directly to the barn complex, which had been built by the finest craftsmen—with the tightest lips—to his specifications.
Situated five hundred feet from the rear of the manor itself, it was a master architectural achievement and an equally master camouflage.
The exterior looked like a series of beautiful stone and heavy wood-beam buildings, ostensibly part offices, part stables, part veterinary clinic, and part garage. But appearances were
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