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“That’s what I thought. Well, if there is, Suber isn’t giving it to anyone. He’s missing.”
“What?”
“He’s disappeared. Someone may have tipped him off. Griffin and the team got a warrant to search his house. They’re there now.”
Kendra shook her head, trying to process what she’d just been told. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. Do you think I’m not sick about it? I worked with him. I respected him. I was mad as hell that you’d made me even tell you that there might be the slightest reason to question him. But maybe you were right, and I was wrong.”
“Lynch and I weren’t sure you were wrong. We trusted Suber, too.”
“Then he might have duped all of us. God, I hope not. At any rate, I knew you’d want to know right away.”
“Thanks, Metcalf.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think? I’m going to Suber’s house. Right now.”
“I thought you’d say that. I wish I could go with you.”
“Just stay home and rest. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
Kendra ended the call.
She sat for a long moment, still trying to make sense of it all. Trey Suber? It was ridiculous to even contemplate. But to some, it would be too easy. His lifelong fascination with serial killers would make him immediate fodder for news stations and true crime shows.
Her phone vibrated in her hand. Lynch. She answered it. “Hi, Lynch.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” he began. “I just heard from Griffin that—”
“Trey Suber?” she interrupted.
“Yes. Looks like I’m not the only one with sources.”
“Metcalf just called.”
“Then you know they’re tearing apart his house. I can pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
“I can meet you there quicker than that. I’m looking at his address on my phone right now.”
“Kendra, just sit tight and I’ll—”
“See you there.” She cut the connection.
Chapter
15
Twelve minutes later, Kendra rolled up in front of Trey Suber’s one-story mid-century home in a hip, walkable neighborhood that straddled North Park and University Heights. Street parking was likely in short supply at any time but was nonexistent with the seven or eight FBI cars and vans now crowded in front of the home. Kendra found a spot around the corner and walked back to the busy scene. Lynch was there waiting for her.
“Nice house,” Lynch said. “How in the hell does Suber afford a place like this? I just checked, and he paid 3.7 million when he moved here last year.”
“Family money?” Kendra ventured. “Or maybe those serial killer trading cards sell a lot better than we ever guessed.”
“Family money,” a familiar voice called out. Griffin walked down the driveway. “His parents are major shareholders in a chain of senior communities in the Southeast.”
“I never knew that,” Kendra said.
