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I push away from my desk to stand. “I saw it in her carry-on bag before she got in the car to go to the jet?”
“Maybe she left it in the back of the car so we couldn’t track her, because according to the data, it’s still in Las Vegas.”
I frown and click the video call on my tablet to call Clara back.
“What’s up, boss? Ready to get back to it?”
“Jeanie… is she working today?”
She looks away from the camera, and I hear clacking as she types something into her computer.
“Looks like she’s between drop-offs and parked at Elysium.”
“Owen, hold on one second.”
I use my phone to radio into Jeanie’s limo.
“Yes, Mr. Bowden?” she answers within seconds.
“When you dropped Zara off the other night, did she leave anything in the back of the car?”
“No Sir. I helped her carry all her bags onto the plane and stayed until it took off just like you asked.”
My heart constricts, and fear takes root in my belly, as I call Owen back.
“Something’s wrong. Where exactly is the computer? Can you access the camera or anything like that?”
Owen whistles and I hear typing. “It’s dark. The computer must be closed. I haven’t pinpointed an exact location yet, but it looks like it’s on the strip somewhere.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “The jet. Can you track its movements?”
“What’s going on, Luke?”
“I don’t fucking know. But that plane took off with her and the laptop on it, and the pilot let me know when they touched down in London. Find her Owen. Find her now.”
I hang up and dial both of her phone numbers, but one is disconnected, and the other goes straight to voicemail, so I text Owen with the phone number of the working number and ask him to track it before I call Clara back.
“The pilot that flew Zara to London, is he one of our employees?”
“No. He was an independent contractor.”
Fuck. “I want his address and any other information you have on him.”
“Looks like he’s based out of New York and took the job after one of his clients canceled their flight home. He was the quickest solution, and it sounded like you wanted her on a plane as soon as possible. Did I mess up?”
I blow out a breath and soften my tone. “No, Clara. Something just isn’t right.”
As soon as I hang up with Clara, Owen rings again and we waste no time with greetings.
“That plane flew to New Mexico and back.”
“God-fucking-damn it. You mean someone kidnapped her two days ago and we’re just now realizing it?”
“Looks that way, mate. What do you want our first step to be?”
“George Kitchens. He was the pilot Clara contracted with to get her on the soonest flight out of town. I want every detail you can find on that fucker. Clara says according to his personnel file, he’s based out of New York.”
“On it. Call you as soon as I know anything. I’m trying to find the phone, but it’s turned off.”
