Page 52 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

Diggs nodded.

“Paddy, get men talking to every neighbor on this street. I don’t care if they’re asleep, drunk, or pretending not to see anything. Someone heard something. Someone saw something.”

Paddy’s expression hardened. “I’ll find them.”

I turned to Michael. “Trace every vehicle that left this area within the last hour. I want security footage from every road, every gas station, and every traffic camera within ten miles. If Victor Hale drove away from this house, I want to know what he was driving, who was with him, and which direction he went.”

Michael reached for his phone immediately. “I’m on it.”

I watched them spread through the house, their movements fast and precise, but the fury inside me refused to settle. It sat beneath my skin like a blade, cold and dangerous, waiting for the moment I found Victor Hale.

Paddy turned the house into a command center within minutes, and the silence that had once filled the rooms was replaced by the sharpness of phones ringing and voices overlapping.

I remained near the bloodstain, listening to the chaos build around me while forcing myself to stay perfectly still. I needed to be still. That was the only thing keeping me from tearing the house apart with my bare hands.

Diggs emerged from the kitchen first, wiping dust from his fingers as he approached me with the careful expression of a man who understood that every word mattered.

“We found partial prints on the back door and along the hallway,” he said. “Nothing useful yet, but the team is working on it.”

“Keep working,” I replied.

He hesitated, studying my face before speaking again. “Liam, we’ll find her.”

I looked past him, toward the darkened rooms of the house, and answered in a voice so cold it barely sounded like mine. “We’d better.”

Diggs nodded once and disappeared again. Paddy remained near the dining table with two phones in his hands, speaking to different contacts without missing a beat.

“Yes, every house on the block,” he said on one line. “I don’t care if they claim they heard nothing. Knock on every door again.” He switched to the other phone immediately. “Check the highway cameras within a twenty-mile radius. Any vehicle leaving this neighborhood after midnight gets flagged.”

I could hear the strain beneath his control, because Paddy had worked with me long enough to know what Nora meant to me, and he understood that failure wasn’t an option tonight. One of Paddy’s phones vibrated again, and he answered immediately.

“Talk to me.” A voice crackled through the speaker, too faint for me to make out the words, and I watched Paddy’s expression change as he listened carefully. “What kind of sound?” he asked. He listened for a few more seconds before looking at me. “A neighbor two houses down heard a gunshot,” he said quietly. “About forty minutes ago.”

The words struck me like a physical blow. A gunshot, Nora’s blood, and Victor Hale’s presence inside the house connected in my mind with terrifying speed. But I forced the panic back again. Panic wouldn’t help Nora. It would only slow me down.

“Get the exact time,” I said. “And find out if anyone saw the vehicle afterward.”

Paddy relayed the order immediately, and the next several minutes stretched painfully as the rain outside grew heavier and tapped against the windows like impatient fingers.

Diggs moved through the hallway collecting evidence, while Michael coordinated with men stationed along the highways. Every report came in fragments: a noise, a shadow, and a car moving too quickly through the neighborhood.

Then another call came through. Paddy answered and listened without speaking, and I watched his face harden with every passing second.

“What is it?” I demanded.

“A witness saw a car leaving the street shortly after the gunshot,” he replied. “An older Corolla. Dark paint, possibly blue or black. It was speeding toward the highway.”

My pulse slammed against my ribs. “License plate?”

“Partial,” Paddy replied. “The witness only caught the last two digits.”

I took the tablet from Michael and pulled up the map of the surrounding roads. “Which highway?”

“Eastbound,” Paddy said. “Toward the interstate.”

I studied the routes quickly. If Victor had taken the interstate, he could already be miles away, but he wouldn’t have chosen a random direction. He would have planned an escape route that gave him the best chance of disappearing before anyone could track him.

Another phone rang. Paddy answered again, and this time he didn’t speak at all. He listened, nodded once, and lowered the phone slowly.