Point of Control Read Online Free

emotion had driven her mother away. Did genetics dictate how her mind worked, or had her experiences caused her brain to form pathways of antisocial thinking? Or some combination? Either way, she had to live with it. There was no treatment for sociopathy.
    The hardest part had been to develop a sense of self. In high school, she’d been a chameleon, adapting her music and clothes and speech patterns to mimic whoever she was around. She’d done those things to fit in and make people like her, but also to manipulate people for her own benefit. Her father had eventually encouraged her to find or create her own identity, ideally through a career that would provide expectations and guidelines. Years later, he’d been surprised by her choice of the FBI, but being an agent was now her identity. It also gave her a code of ethics to live by, to compensate for her lack of intrinsic morals. She knew she would adapt and remake herself if she ever lost her job, but without a core sense of self, it would be challenging.
    At thirty-nine, she’d already done all the self-analysis she could handle. A quick check of her phone indicated she still had twenty minutes until her flight took off, so she called the Australian scientist’s wife again. Mrs. Thurgood hadn’t answered earlier or returned her call. As the phone rang, Bailey calculated the time difference. It should be around one in the afternoon in Australia.
    A soft voice with a lovely accent answered. “This is Leslie Thurgood. Who is calling, please?”
    “Agent Bailey, US Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
    “Goodness. What could you possibly want with me?”
    “I’m looking into your husband’s disappearance, and I need to ask some questions.”
    “But why? The Australian authorities say he walked away.” The woman made a muffled sound of grief. “Not that I believe it.”
    “What do you think happened?” It was always good to hear what people closest to the scene had to say.
    “Milton is obsessed with his research. Wherever he is, he’s working.”
    “He didn’t tell you anything about where he was going?”
    “No. And I’m mad as a cut snake. He’s had some fuckups before, but this one’s bonzer.”
    Was she a little drunk? “Did your husband ever talk about Nick Bowman?”
    “Aye, he did. Especially after the award was announced, but not so much lately. Why do you ask?”
    “Nick Bowman has been murdered.”
    Mrs. Thurgood sucked in a quick breath of air. “I’ll be stuffed. But don’t think my Milton offed him. I know he’s a bit bonkers when he’s off his pills, but he’s been taking them.”
    Would she have known for sure if he’d stopped? “How was he behaving in the weeks and days before he left?”
    “The same. Working hard. No peculiars.”
    “Your husband took a flight to Los Angeles. Who did he know there?”
    “Don’t know that.”
    This was getting nowhere. “Where do you think he is?”
    Mrs. Thurgood muffled a cry. “I don’t know. But it’s not like he’s gone walkabout. He’ll be back.”
    “Did anything unusual happen recently? A problem at work? A job offer? A birthday?” Sometimes people reacted strongly to external events.
    “He got a call he didn’t want to talk about. He took the phone in the bedroom and it lasted a while. Milton said it was about his extraction process and not to worry.”
    A recruiter? But why the secrecy? “Was he having an affair?”
    The woman laughed. “Oh, that’s ace. Milton’s not a pretty man and has no social skills. I love him, but I don’t see anyone else getting in his pants.”
    If he had no social skills, Milton Thurgood could be a sociopath, one who’d given up playing by the rules and indulged in his darker nature. She gave the woman her name again and her cell number. “Call me if you think of anything important. I’m trying to find your husband.”
    “If you do, tell him to get his arse home. G’day.”
    Bailey hung up and joined the line boarding the plane. What