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Literally, anything that I said to him set his teeth on edge.
I wasn’t sure what it was about me—or my daughter—that set his fur to ruffled, but it did.
He literally couldn’t stand me—us.
One day, I would figure out why.
Sadly, his mind and his psyche weren’t really something I could hack. Plus, Kobe wasn’t the kind of person to put his personal feelings down on paper—or computer, for that matter.
Not that I would be quite that invasive.
“Why are you making that face?”
I blinked, surprised to find him staring at me from the driver’s side of his truck.
“What face?” I feigned ignorance.
He rolled his eyes. “The face that says you’re thinking hard about doing something illegal.”
I snorted.
I was always thinking about doing something illegal.
Hacking definitely wasn’t for rule followers.
“I was thinking about why you hate me so much,” I admitted to him. “I’m not sure why.”
He didn’t say anything, letting me know rather quickly that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to share it with me.
I changed the subject.
“Tell me everything that you know,” I encouraged. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “I told him to email it to me.”
Just as he said that, he pulled up to Wake’s house, which happened to have its own private airstrip and helipad.
The helipad was where we were headed a few seconds later.
I got inside while he did a preflight checklist.
While he was doing that, I got onto the computer I’d brought with me—I always had one on me, no matter what I was doing or where I was going—and went to work.
He got inside and did some more checking; meanwhile, I read through the notes.
“The child taken was the third child of Phoebe and Bayou.” I paused as I read. “Video surveillance was sketchy in the parking lot of the supermarket. I’m going to look through surrounding businesses,” I said.
He took off, and we were flying toward Texas seconds later.
Once we were halfway, I had not just one but seven surrounding businesses’ camera feeds.
“I’ll bet that the police already have all of that. So does Free,” Kobe murmured.
Free was the organization that had helped so many women and children get out of their poor situations.
“They do,” I said as I went through everything. “But this porn store. They didn’t give all of their feeds,” I said as I started to go through their private feed. The one that allowed them to let in men who were then serviced by women that worked there. Whatever the hell it was called—selling themselves or a fuckin’ brothel—they weren’t supposed to be doing it. Hence them not sharing this particular feed with the authorities.”
“Fuckin’ stupid,” Kobe said. “Did you find anything?”
