Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
When the light finally turned, he darted off the limit line and headed for the freeway, but the brown van—and the love of his life—were nowhere to be seen.
Jerking the wheel with a curse, he turned his truck around, tires squealing against asphalt. Sifting through the evidence Trees had found, deciphering who might have taken Haisley and where, then getting there was his only shot of saving her now. He had to think like an operative, not a man who might have his heart ripped out.
Even if every mile that separated him from Haisley felt like it was shredding his soul.
“Since my sources tracking the van tell me it left town heading east and fucking disappeared, tell me you found something useful,” Hunter barked through the phone hours later as dusk began to settle over Lafayette.
“Nothing.” When Nash’s voice cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, nothing solid. Yet. Ethan and I pulled surveillance footage from every business within three blocks of the mall. The brown van went north, then disappeared into a camera dead zone. Mall security was useless. Their external cameras have been ‘malfunctioning’ off and on for weeks.”
“Convenient.”
“Too convenient. It’s not just an inside job, but a coordinated criminal enterprise.” Nash ran a hand over his face, fighting to focus through his mounting terror. “That janitor had to be involved. He knew we were investigating, that Haisley had been tireless. So he and his higher-ups took her out of the equation. If I had any doubt about his complicity, he quit his job mere minutes after her abduction.”
“You sure?”
“Ethan sweet-talked the former mall manager’s assistant, Julia, into letting him read the resignation note he scribbled onto the back of a napkin before he walked out.”
Hunter groaned. “‘Sweet-talked?’ If Ethan seduced the information out of her, I don’t want details.”
Nash stayed conspicuously silent, his head too full of Haisley as he wended through the evening traffic.
“So that’s a yes. I don’t know whether to punch Garrison in the face or pat him on the back. His dick is going to get him into trouble someday, goddamn him. Anything more about the janitor?”
“Ethan interviewed the few mall employees he interacted with. No one remembers seeing the guy talk to anyone unusual. Apparently, he kept to himself. Did his job. Never caused trouble.”
“Perfect cover.”
“He blended into the background and never made noise. Then he suddenly quits and claims he’s moving out of state?” Suspicion laced Nash’s tone. “It smells like bullshit.”
“I’m surprised he’s not plotting to skip the country,” Hunter growled. “What’s this asshole’s name? I’ll contact my sources and call in some favors. We’ll find him.”
“Don’t bother. He used the name John Miller.”
“Generic as hell.”
“Because it’s fake.” Nash sped through a yellow light and turned into Haisley’s neighborhood. “And now he’s dead. Ethan and I found him in his apartment an hour ago. Garroted. Body was still warm. The place was a mess—half-packed suitcase on the bed, clothes scattered everywhere. We found multiple IDs and a wad of cash. He tried to run, but whoever’s running this operation got to him first. And before you ask, they swiped his phone and computer, so any potential tech trail is dead.”
“Son of a bitch…”
“It gets worse. We found a creepy hidden panel behind his bathroom mirror. Inside? Surveillance photos of all the previous victims. Time-stamped. Location-tagged. All women—young and attractive. With their whole lives ahead of them. But Haisley…” His voice roughened. “Her photo labeled her a ‘security risk’ with a handwritten note underneath: ‘Becoming problematic.’”
“She was getting too close to the truth, and she was enough like their typical victim profile to make her more valuable alive than dead.”
Nash’s gut twisted. “Ethan and I came to the same conclusion.”
“I’m sure they decided it was better to have an asset than a body. What about Benedict Land Development?”
“Place is locked down tight. Police say it’ll be days before we can access George and Mila’s offices. Employees and cleaning crew have been furloughed indefinitely. Even my security guard pal says they’ve been forbidden from that floor until further notice. But there’s more to George Benedict’s death than meets the eye. On his burner phone, Trees found hundreds of calls and texts with a woman named Caroline Walsh. She’s a local hairdresser. They exchanged explicit messages and nude photos. They had regular hookup appointments.”
“The mistress you mentioned earlier. Think the wife knew?”
“I would have said no until last night. But Mila was wandering the office in the middle of the night. Why…unless she and George had a serious fight?”
“Maybe, but we can’t jump to conclusions. Where is this mistress now?”
“In the wind. Yesterday, she cleaned out her bank account and quit her job. Her neighbor saw her carrying two big suitcases out her front door before she got into a taxi around seven last night. Seems like she was planning to split town. Her social media doesn’t indicate that she was planning a trip. But now she’s missing.” Nash’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “The messages on Benedict’s burner were filled with chatter about him leaving his wife so they could make a new life together, but no solid plans. No mention of running away.”