“She was staying for the singing contest. Plus, she and Vanessa were sort of having a tiff. I needed to get Vanessa out of there because she was so drunk she could hardly stand, but Lettie insisted on staying behind to sing. She was already texting you to pick her up when Vanessa and I left. A while later, she messaged me that she made it to your place.”
“Well, she didn’t. She texted me that she needed time to think and asked me to leave her alone for the weekend.”
“That’s crazy. That wasn’t her state of mind when we left. She wanted to see you. I know she did. What time was that text?”
My trembling hands drag across my forehead, my fingertips digging in punishingly. “We were messaging back and forth around 2330,” I catch myself using military time and amend, “around eleven thirty, but she never told me to come get her or even implied it. Her last message, sent around two a.m., asked me to leave her alone.”
“Oh no, no, no,” Freya whines, then launches into a long-winded rant. “That’s around the last time I heard from her. When I left her at the club, I made her promise to let me know when you got there. I even sent her a reminder message. After an hour, I called, but it went straight to voicemail. She finally texted me back, but I was up to my tits making sure that Vanessa didn’t aspirate in her sleep. She was wrecked.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Vanessa,” I yell, a murderous rage simmering in my veins. “Are you telling me you left Lettie alone in a fucking nightclub? Alone? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I knooow. Fucking hell. I’m sorry!” she trills, her volume quickly matching mine. “Vanessa was nearly passed out at the bar. I had to get her out of there, and Lettie refused to go with us.” A muffled sob comes through the receiver. “Dammit, James. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. But you know how stubborn Lettie can be, and she wanted that prize money. I wish I would’ve waited for you to get there, but Vanessa literally couldn’t stand. Dammit. Fuck. What have I done?” Another sob. “What do we do? What do we fucking do?”
I pull forth the only remaining thread of calmness from deep inside me, focusing on action steps.
We’re already behind by almost three days.
I need details. As many as possible.
We already have the timeline of when she was taken. It had to be between when we were messaging and when I got there to look for her. It’s not that long of a window. Maybe I can find a license plate. Security footage from the club.
“Freya, call the cops to report her missing, giving them every detail you remember. I’ll try to track her phone and start looking for her.”
“Okay. I’m so sorry, James. If something happens to her—”
I cut her off. “Nothing is going to happen to her. I won’t let it. I’ll fucking find her. Call the cops.”
Without saying goodbye, I disconnect.
What the actual fuck was she thinking leaving Lettie alone in a fucking nightclub?
Turns out my worst fear has nothing to do with Boss finding out about Lettie or vice versa.
Inhaling sharply, I force out my breath in a loud whoosh and suck in another wave, trying to steady myself. Can’t do anything to help her if I can’t fucking see straight.
Think, Tomer, fucking think.
Trackers? None of them are on her. No fucking clue why she didn’t bring her purse.
Jewelry? Must not be wearing any of the pieces I tagged.
She never made it home, meaning camera footage at her apartment won’t provide anything of use.
Phone?
Although it’s powered off, there’s a chance I can still get in through the hidden app I installed on her phone. As long as the battery hasn’t been tampered with.
That’s going to take some time, though.
First, I’ll run my facial recognition program so it can process while I try to get into her phone.
I spring into action, pulling up a recent photo of Lettie to run through my software. Hopefully, she’s been somewhere with cloud-based surveillance feeds.
While that runs, I try and fail to get her phone’s location through the app. Fuck. That means they tampered with the battery.
She’s definitely compromised. There’s no way she’d do that if she only wanted time away to think.
My chest suddenly grows tight, but I force the panic away with three sharp inhales.