Page 51 of Elliot

Elliot hit his earbud. Con had a flair for the dramatic, didn’t he? “What’s up?” He continued to look at the wall of the event center for that damn slug. Asher was talking on the phone to get a forensics team back down to help them.

“Maya. I think her assistant knocked her ass out in the elevator.”

“What?” He froze.

“Dude, an alarm sounded from the front desk at her office building. She left with her assistant and told the guard her assigned Guardian approved it. He got suspicious and double-checked. They’re working on it on their end. I called up the feed. According to my facial rec program, the little blonde bitch in the picture is Jessica Hall. There’s blood in the elevator after she drags Maya into the garage level. Where the hell areyou?”

“I’m at the event center. Contact the Guardians at the building and let them know I’m on my way. How much blood?” Elliot turned to Asher, who was looking at him, no doubt alerted by his attitude and tone.

“Not much, not life-threatening loss or anything, and they know. I’m working on trying to get into the video feed on the garage,” Con said as Elliot told Asher, “I need your keys.”

Asher tossed the keys to Elliot, and Elliot sprinted to the vehicle. “Give me an update,” he said as he hit the ignition and flipped the switches to turn on the emergency lights and siren. Blue lights strobed, the siren wailed, and he pulled into traffic.

“I’m in. I have to access the server to play back the film. Okay, got it. Looks like one of our guys leaves Maya’s office. He’s laughing, and she’s smiling. Maya went to Jessica’s office. Hold on. Yeah, the bitch had a knife. I can see her threaten Maya, and she has it against Maya’s ribs. They talk, and then Maya starts walking, but I have no idea why Maya didn’t ditch her at the elevator. She could have, and the guard would have been in a perfect position to take the bitch down.”

Elliot swore and stomped on the brakes, jerked the wheel, and then slammed his foot down on the accelerator, cussing at the asshole who pulled out in front of him. “Where is she now?”

“I’m working on it. I haven’t seen the blonde in any of the cars coming out. Oh, shit, there was a van. She could be in that.” He could hear Con typing. “The people at the building are sweeping the garage.”

“How much of a head start do they have?”

“Okay, give me a second.”

“I don’t have a fucking second, Con,” Elliot growled as he swerved in and out of traffic, laying on the horn and cussing at clueless, entitled drivers who failed to give way to an emergency vehicle.

“Seven minutes.”

“Con, get me a fix on her.”

“Working it. Cross-referencing vehicles leaving in the last ten minutes with vehicles entering for the last week.

“I have three, no four. Running plates.” Con detailed his actions as Elliot plowed through Saturday afternoon traffic.

“Rental … corporate account. Edison Plastics.”

“They’re on the twelfth floor,” Elliot said as he cornered hard and then accelerated.

“Rental … corporate account. Bingo. Ties to Dillon Ulman. Demeter Pharma. Tell me that isn’t a coincidence.”

“It isn’t a coincidence,” Elliot grunted. “Find that car.”

“Van,” Con corrected.

“What-the-fuck-ever! Find it.” Elliot passed a stopped car on the right, climbing the curb and almost hitting a pedestrian. His eyes snapped to the rearview to make sure the guy was okay. By the vigorous finger flipping and gesturing, Elliot assumed he was fine and accelerated.

“I got it,” Con said. “Man, it didn’t go far.”

“What?”

“The big building west of Maya’s building defaulted during the pandemic and has sat vacant. They have to have pulled in somewhere along this area. I can see it on this camera; there’s no coverage along this back roadway, and the van doesn’t come to this camera at the end of the block. They have to be in that area. It’s locked up tight because it’s vacant and a safety risk.”

Elliot cut through two lanes of traffic and hooked a left. He drove like a maniac but killed the siren about two blocks away. “The corporation that owns the building is in bankruptcy. Working on getting more,” Con said. “Turn right at the next road.” He turned his lights off when Con told him to turn. He rolled to a stop and studied the fence line. Weeds grew up the ten-foot chain-link fence. Graffiti covered the panels on the fence that once advertised a new high-rise.

“Can you get eyes in there?”

“No way, man,” Con said. “Got a drone handy?”

“Not likely,” Elliot said. He got out of Asher’s car; stripped off his suit jacket, shoulder holster, tie, and shirt; and put on his T-shirt. He popped the trunk and smiled. “Thank you, Guardian.”

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