Page 77 of Sinful Beauty

“Lucia doesn’t take limousines. She walks to work. Why would she get in a limousine?” I’m more or less speaking to myself. I flip through the still frames, searching for luggage. “Did you watch the video? Did she have luggage?”

“No.”

Someone took her. Who knows what they told her or why she agreed to go?

“What about the driver? Do we have an ID on him?” I can’t make out any details in the grainy long shot, only his gender, male, shaved head, relatively tall, and the black suit he’s wearing makes him look like a hired driver.

“Tech is working on that.”

“Do you have the plate?”

“Got it when he drove through the intersection. We’re working on tracing the route.”

Good. They won’t get far if we have the tags.

“Ozzie messaged. Looks like we got her on street cam footage through twenty-two intersections. Then she’s not there.”

“That means she’s nearby.” As I say the words, I know that’s not true. “Unless they transferred her to another vehicle.” My peripheral vision darkens as the ramifications of such a possibility play through. “Which means we would have no way of locating her.”

“True. But we have the ownership of the vehicle. It’s a rental company.”

“Send it to me. I’ll go visit them.”

“You realize if you show up interviewing them, your cover will be blown.”

“Abducting Lucia is our first real lead to find whoever is behind this.”

“Nigel needs to know.” The call clicks.

Alright, Penny love. Go tell Nigel.

I snap a photo of the address and log out of the network and set about shutting down my computer.

When I exit the office, I take in the dark screen on Lucia’s monitor and the eerie stack of devices on her desk. If someone else placed those on her desk, we could fingerprint them.

I reach into my bag, put on gloves, and slip her devices into my briefcase. My briefcase is lined to prevent any device inside being located, a benefit to my line of work. Between potential miscommunication between the Human Resources and IT departments, it could take them days to confirm the devices are no longer in the building.

With one last glance at Peltz’s closed office door, I charge out of the building. As soon as I step onto the street, I press Jack Sullivan’s name on my mobile.

It rings twice and his assistant answers. I request to speak to him, and twenty seconds later he’s on the line.

“Jack here.”

“Hi Jack. We’ve got a break in the case.”

“Go on.”

“An assistant is missing. I suspect the same people who abducted Sloane Watson took her.”

“Logic?”

“Same MO.”

“But an assistant? Why?”

“That I’m not sure, but now it’s personal. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Who knows that? Everyone in the company?”

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