CHAPTER 24
Grant
The post-ceremony festivities had begun. Donna, Zaid’s house manager of many years, carried a large platter covered in decadent cupcakes to the patio. Half of the crowd dispersed from the seating area to get a cupcake, and the rest of the crowd rushed to offer the officially collared couple their congratulations. Choosing to mingle later, Mom went to take a cupcake from Donna. I scanned the area again for Hazel. She had been in the garden for the entire ceremony, but I didn’t see her now.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the screen; one of the men I had assigned to watch Christine was calling. I went behind the stage area, away from the crowd, and answered.
“Sir,” the man said, “The target hasn’t moved in her apartment building in over an hour.”
My stomach dropped, but I dismissed the feeling. There were plenty of explanations. As soon as I had learned that the stalker was Christine, I had scouted her apartment complex with my old coworkers, then hired a team of them to watch Christine, and follow her. Christine lived on the top floor of a three-story apartment, with sheer curtains covering the windows, fabric that showed her shadow moving past the flowing material. She never quite stayed still, and if she left, they knew how to follow her discreetly.
“Perhaps she’s sleeping,” I said. A midday nap wasn’t an impossibility.
“That’s not part of her usual pattern, sir.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “Any suspicious activity?”
“Someone left the garage on the back half of the building,” he said. “A black SUV. But the driver didn’t match the description you gave us.”
Shit. “When was this?”
“About an hour ago.”
My gut reaction was to berate him for not informing me sooner. I had specifically detailed that any black SUV was pertinent information. Even if the driver didn’t look like Oliver or Christine, we needed to be cautious. The driver that had tried to run us over could have been anyone.
“Right around the time Christine was last seen in the windows,” I said, my voice cool. He knew the problem with delivering this information now, and not earlier.
“We didn’t connect them quickly enough, sir.”
Well, that was obvious. I hung up and called Hazel, but it rang until it went to voicemail. I checked the tracking software on my phone; she wasn’t far. I took a moment to check the surveillance footage of the apartment. There was nothing, until about twenty minutes after we left to come to Mount Charleston for the ceremony.
Oliver walked into the frame, his eyes searching. He had a keycard for the apartment in his hand. I flipped through my wallet; mine was still there. Had he stolen Hazel’s card? That was the only way he could have gotten past the security and the concierge. He ambled across the area, and when he confirmed that he was alone, he picked up speed, giving one last look through each of the rooms. Then he was gone. He hadn’t found what he was looking for.
Hazel.
I checked the tracking software again. She was moving, not down any road, but into the woods. I called her again; this time, the call went straight to voicemail. It could have been her pissed off reaction to the ceremony, but my gut told me that something was wrong. I needed to find hernow.
I raced to Mom and told her I had to go, then rushed through the house, ignoring the people who perked up at the giant mock-officiant jolting through the house. I checked the tracking software again; Hazel’s movement had stopped. She could have been fine, or she could have lost her phone. It could have been taken from her.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
I ran to my car and drove to where her signal had gone into the woods. The trees were spaced widely enough for a large car, like someone had cut them down to make room for an SUV. I followed the tire tracks in the brush. Soon, Hazel’s pink phone shined beneath the brown, rotting foliage. I blazed forward, tracing the tire tracks. A few meters later, my car got stuck in the mud. I cursed my luck, then got out, running forward. Past the horde of trees, a small decrepit shack was shadowed underneath the branches. A black SUV was stagnant to the side.
I armed myself, cocking my pistol’s hammer. I made my way silently towards the shack. If anyone had laid a hand on Hazel, I would—
“You really are pathetic,” Christine’s voice said. I stilled, waiting to hear the rest. A muffled sob like a wounded animal echoed past the voice.Hazel.“I would have thought that the woman who fucked and killed my brother would have been smarter than this. But you’re so desperate for a friend, you’ll take anyone. Even your closest enemy.”
“How was I supposed to know?” Hazel’s voice spat out. A short burst of relief ran through me. She was in pain, yes, but conscious, with enough energy to verbally shoot back. “You tricked me. Made me think we were friends.”
“Oh, come on. It’s almost embarrassing how naive you are,” Christine continued. “Think of it. I’m not the only one you shouldn’t trust. You fucked the man who abducted you.”
“The man who saved me.”
“Saved you?” she laughed. “And where is he now?”
I couldn’t dwell on those specifics right then. Through a crack in the wall, I was able to see some of the room. Oliver had a gun on him, tucked inside of his pocket, and a crowbar resting on his hip. Hazel was shaking in the corner, a purple bruise vibrant on her face like a dash of paint. Christine held a finger under Hazel’s chin, forcing her to look into her face, taunting her.
Oliver had a gun.
