Page 93 of Enticing the Fixer

Something bangs against the wall, and a loud whoosh fills the space. “I would have never touched him if you didn’t ask me to do whatever it took to get the business out of his hands.”

“I meant to convince him to sell. Not beg him to meet you and then crash into his vehicle.”

Carla laughs again, and a door opens. Something clanks against a plastic-sounding object. The refrigerator. The condiments are rattling inside their confines. “Tough shit. Just because you didn’t have the balls to get rid of his ladylove, now we have this situation.” I’m assuming she waves in my direction. “To take care of.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Truman Security Headquarters

Leo

As I pace from one side of the room to the other, exhaustion and fear weigh heavy on my shoulders. It’s been six hours, and we’re nowhere closer to finding Kinsley. It’s like she stepped outside of Ann’s shop and disappeared.

We’ve searched everywhere for Marge and have gotten nowhere.

She couldn’t vanish into thin air. It makes no sense. Did she have someone help her? It’s hard to imagine Marge getting Kinsley down and knocking her out. Did she trick her by pretending she knew who killed her father? That would make sense. Kinsley would have done anything to find out what happened, and we never suspected Marge because Ethan was at the top of our list of suspects.

My stomach cramps almost double me over. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten, but the thought of food makes me ill. I rake a hand through my hair. Stop. She’s alive. She must be alive. If she wasn’t, I’d know.

Whoever has her, needs her alive for the board meeting.

Don’t be stupid. Marge was planning a hostile takeover. She doesn’t need Kinsley alive.

“There it is.” Cade’s chair squeaks as he launches backward and points to the screen in front of him. The image is of the front of Ann’s Flower Shop. But there’s nothing there. Except for Kinsley’s vehicle.

“There’s what?” My brother jumps out of his chair and speed walks from the desk he was seated behind.

“Watch.” Cade leans forward, causing the same loud squeaking sound, and taps the mouse. The counter at the bottom of the video moves, but nothing happens.

“Shit,” Jagger groans. “How did I not see that?”

“Not see what?” My hands ball into fists over their cryptic bullshit.

“It’s been altered.” Cade points at the spot on the screen and replays the clip. At the 8:05 p.m. mark, there’s a minuscule blip that would be impossible to observe if you weren’t looking for it. Hell, we’ve been looking at it for an hour.

Once we took up shop here, I rode with Truman to Marge’s house, but it was locked. And the judge wouldn’t give us a search warrant. At that point, I didn’t care if I went to prison. Unfortunately, I didn’t turn up Marge or anything else that we could use against her in my search. And Mac never alerted that Kinsley had ever been there.

Where did she take her?

“Stop it. I see it.” I point to the screen. “Go back two frames and replay. It’s like her office. Who has access to these videos? Where did they come from?”

Cade clears his throat. “Lola broke into the police database. This is directly from their feed of the city.”

“Son of a bitch.” I stop mid-step. “Someone at the police station messed with the security footage at both crime scenes. It makes perfect sense. That’s why there wasn’t video footage of his crash.”

“Fuck!” Truman barks and stomps into his office, slamming the door shut.

“Give him five minutes.” Cade rubs his forehead. The deep lines under his eyes mirror the ones under mine. “And he’ll know who was working both nights with access to the video feeds.”

Whoever the asshole is, he’s going down. He’s covered up a murder and now a kidnapping.

She’s still alive. I won’t accept anything else. And the second we save her; I’m setting her free. She deserves someone who wouldn’t put her life in danger. Not that she’ll have anything to do with me anyway. I’m the reason she’s in this mess.

Mac leans against my thigh, causing tears to sting my eyes. I glance down and rub his head. “Thank you, Buddy.” His eyes look up at me in adoration. Dude, I wish I deserved it.

The clock ticks. Second after second. I stare at my cell phone, wishing against hope that Kinsley would text me even though her phone is crushed and of no use to anyone.

Five minutes. And nothing. I stomp to the window. The street is empty. In a few hours, The Plaza will be bursting with activity again.

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