A Colby Christmas. Debra Webb
had a plan. “We can, however, bring him in early for one final test in an attempt to preempt tomorrow afternoon’s untimely episode.”
“You want to explore more deeply any problems he may be having with his current employer?” Ian couldn’t outright ask about any suspected wrongdoing but he could pose theoretical questions that might prompt certain responses.
Ian nodded. “And I’d like to invite O’Brien to sit in.”
Victoria nodded her understanding. “Outstanding idea.” The newest Colby Agency investigator on staff, besides the two new recruits they’d hired a few months ago, Patrick O’Brien was a former college professor. Not just any sort of college professor, he’d achieved his Ph.D. in psychology, which technically made him Dr. Patrick O’Brien. But he preferred not to be addressed that way. His absolute brilliance when it came to the human mind was uncanny. Victoria wasn’t sure Mr. Gibson would appreciate an on-the-sly analysis, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt where the accusations against him were concerned. This route would be discreet and, hopefully, helpful to all involved.
“Shall I see if Mr. Gibson is available during his lunch hour tomorrow?” Many of the offices were either closed or shut down early on Christmas Eve. Like the Colby Agency, Welton Investments was not one of those.
Ian stood. “I’ll make arrangements with O’Brien before I leave for the day.”
Almost five o’clock. “Very good. I’ll let you know if I can’t reach Mr. Gibson.”
Victoria entered the number as Ian left her office. When the receptionist two floors below completed her company spiel, Victoria said, “Brad Gibson, please.”
The moment’s hesitation that followed set Victoria on edge. Even before the woman’s response finally came, dread had started to well all too rapidly. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Gibson…” She cleared her throat but even that didn’t stop it from wobbling as she continued. “Mr. Gibson is no longer with this firm.”
Victoria thanked the woman and placed the handset in its cradle. She immediately buzzed Ian, but he was already back at her door.
“Gibson is missing,” he said as he moved into her office. “My source just called. Apparently Gibson didn’t show up for work this morning. An hour ago a neighbor reported that his apartment door was standing open. The apartment was ransacked. No clues as to what was taken, at this point. No body was found but there was a considerable amount of blood. Forensics is attempting to determine if the blood belongs to Gibson.”
Uneasiness added a few extra beats per minute to Victoria’s heart rate. This didn’t feel right. She’d spoken to this man on several occasions. Bradley Gibson was no bad guy and he certainly wasn’t a killer.
“Let’s put someone on this, Ian. The boys at the Bureau won’t like it, but I can’t let this go without seeing if there is any way we can help Mr. Gibson.” Dead or alive, she didn’t add.
“I’ll look into the case myself,” Ian offered.
“I would appreciate that. This doesn’t feel right.”
Victoria sat very still for a long moment after Ian had gone. It was almost Christmas….
She stood and moved back to her spacious window. The snow was falling harder now—big, lush flakes. Life was so fragile. All that one cherished could be lost in a mere instant.
She offered a quick, silent prayer for Bradley Gibson.
This would not be such a happy holiday for him.
Chapter Two
December 23, 7:45 p.m.
The sound of children laughing woke Elaine Younger from a dead sleep.
She sat straight up and pushed the hair out of her face.
The office…she was still at the office.
She could feel the imprint of her forearm marred into her forehead. She rubbed at it with the heel of her hand.
The sound she’d heard had come from the radio. Christmas music…“Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
Disgust groaned out of her as she pushed up from her desk. She’d listened to that stuff all day long, every day for the past three weeks. Enough already.
She moved around her desk and headed for the lounge. The media control center was in the lounge supply room. Everyone else had already gone home except her. She could turn off the music now and no one would care.
It was nearly eight. Where the heck were those musicians? Hadn’t Mildred said they’d be here about seven? Just her luck that they’d be running late. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep at her desk.
Elaine flipped on the overhead light, crossed to the far side of the lounge and went into the supply room, where cases of soft drinks and other refreshments, as well as stacks of napkins and disposable cups, were stored. She opened the control panel door and entered the sequence to shut down the piped-in music.
The silence that followed was truly golden.
She nabbed herself a bag of chips and a bottle of water before turning off the lights and heading back to her desk. Maybe she’d call security and see if they’d heard anything. If the musicians weren’t coming until tomorrow morning there was no reason for her to hang around.
Maybe there’d been a miscommunication but she doubted it. Mildred never got things like that wrong.
Elaine had the day off tomorrow. She couldn’t wait to get home and plug in an action flick—anything to escape the holiday hoopla. Her folks would call at nine and they’d talk about whether to have hard rolls or soft with the ham. It wasn’t as if Christmas had ever been a big deal with her family. She didn’t get why the whole world had to go into such major pandemonium over this time of year.
Christmas should be private…without all the fuss.
She’d just popped a chip into her mouth when her line rang. Hurrying to her desk, she washed the chip down with a sip of water. If she were lucky that would be security letting her know the musicians had arrived. She placed the bag of chips and bottle of water onto her desk and grabbed the phone.
“The Colby Agency.”
“Yes, ma’am, this is Joseph in security. I’m at the front door and there are three gentlemen here who say they have to set up their instruments on your floor.”
“Thank you, Joseph. This is Elaine Younger and I’ve been expecting them. Please send them up.”
“They’re going to have to use the freight elevator, Miss Younger. Some of these cases are quite large.”
“That’s fine, Joseph. Whatever works best. I’ll meet them at the freight elevator.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Elaine dropped the receiver back onto its cradle and hurried around behind her desk to get the ring of keys, including the one for the freight elevator. She scratched around in the middle desk drawer. Didn’t see anything even remotely resembling keys. Where the heck had she put them? “There you are.” She grabbed the bracelet-style key ring, automatically slid it onto her wrist, and headed to the west end of the building.
The freight elevator was set up to allow stops on any floor in the building, but only an authorized employee on each floor could enter the necessary approval code for the elevator doors to open. A key was required to access the digital control pad.
The Colby Agency encompassed the entire fourth floor. The main elevators stopped in the lobby, directly in front of Elaine’s desk. From the lobby, a wide main corridor to the left of her desk led past the conference room, restrooms, the lounge and the offices of several of the highest ranking investigators. At the end of that main corridor was Victoria’s suite of offices, including the one belonging to Mildred, as well as the emergency exit to the stairwell. That was where the main corridor