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I blink at the screen in confusion before rewinding it back. But the same thing happens. One second Liam is there, and the next he’s gone. I rewind it again and check the time stamp, and it’s only then that I realize that two minutes have been completely erased.
Damn! Someone has hacked into the security system. My heart sinks. If they were good enough to do that and erase just the specific time that he was taken, then no doubt they have messed with the footage from the other cameras too. I rewind again and notice that the cut is almost seamless. If someone wasn’t looking closely, then it would appear that Liam came back into the club. So, we are definitely dealing with someone who knows what they’re doing, and that makes my stomach twist into a knot, because it means it’s going to take me much longer to track him than I thought.
Mikey comes back into the office carrying five laptops, and places them on the desk. “We got some tablets too somewhere. Should I go find them?” he asks.
I shake my head. We do need the extra computers, but the task of finding every device was also a distraction technique to give Mikey something useful to do. Now I need him. “No. I want you to turn all of them on so I can run some different software. I also need you to use one to check the security footage in the alleyway where Conor was, and also inside the club from 1am to about 1:30. Look for anything suspicious, or anything that will give us a clue who took Liam. And could you also check if there are any time lapses or footage missing?”
Mikey frowns at me. “They fucked with our security feed?”
“Yes. But I have plenty of other feeds to tap into along this street. Don’t worry.”
Mikey nods and picks up a laptop before sitting on the chair opposite me, and we both get to work.
Chapter
Two
SHANE
Conor and I stand in the elevator in silence as it takes us down to the basement, where some of our bouncers are holding the guy with the green Mohawk. I feel the worry and the anger in my brother and it echoes mine. Of all of us, why choose Liam? He’s probably the strongest of us physically, but emotionally, he’s the most vulnerable. He’s so much like our mother — quiet and thoughtful. Mikey has always had a big mouth and used his sense of humor as a distraction. But Liam was always quiet. As a kid, he would sit there and take whatever our father doled out. My heart breaks inside as I think about what he endured as a child and the man he has become in spite of it.
My fists are clenched at my sides as the elevator comes to a stop and Conor and I step out.
“Have you spoken to this guy at all?”
“Yeah,” Conor says as we make our way toward the small room near the back. “But it was real quick. He said he didn’t know anything and was only doing what this girl asked him to.”
I nod as we reach the steel door and our bouncer opens it so we can walk inside. Sitting in the middle of the room, strapped to a chair, is a kid in his early twenties, with a neon green Mohawk. He has duct tape over his mouth, a busted nose, a huge gash above his eye that’s causing blood to run down his face, and a piss stain on the crotch of his stonewash jeans.
Chester, one of our bouncers, is standing beside him silently. Chester won’t have touched him, because he would’ve been told not to by Conor or Mikey, so I wonder which of my brothers is responsible for his face. I could rip this guy’s head off his neck right now, given the mood I’m in, but I need to know what he knows.
“Take off the tape,” I say to Chester, who complies immediately, making the kid wince in pain. “Out,” I indicate the door and Chester nods his understanding before leaving Conor and me alone.
The kid in the chair stares up at us, his lip trembling and his body shivering. At least he has the good sense to stay quiet.
“What were you doing in our club?” I ask.
He blinks at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in a tank.
Conor raises his foot and kicks the kid in the kneecap, making him surge forward as he howls in pain, but he is restrained with chains and he falls back against the chair, his head hanging limply against his chest. “My brother just asked you a question, asshole!” Conor hisses.
The kid lifts his head and looks at us. “I was there with my girlfriend.”
“Where’s your girlfriend now?” I ask him.
“We had a fight. She went home hours ago.” He is crying now. “I don’t know anything. I swear.”
“I think we’ll be the judge of that,” I snarl.
I nod to Conor and he walks behind the chair and holds the kid's head up by his hair. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Henry Campbell,” he sniffs.
“Well, Henry. I am going to ask you some questions, and every time you lie to me, my brother here is going to take a body part. Okay?”
Henry’s eyes widen in terror and Conor pulls his head back further to emphasize that he is ready and waiting for my command. “Yes,” he finally says.
“Why did you tell my brother that someone was looking for him?”
