Chapter 29

29

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

W e headed straight for the field office.

No donuts.

No pizza.

Just work.

The fact that Jack didn't even mention food is enough to relay the dire straits we've found ourselves in.

I fed Buddy a bounty of kibble and a can of wet food from the stash I keep in the truck, Jack's truck. That says a lot about how at home I feel with him. But he considers Buddy half his, so there's that. And once we land in the office, I give Buddy a fresh bowl of water to wash it all down.

The office is a beehive of activity with agents huddled around laptops as we scour through ceaseless hours of security footage from just about every business in the area around the Oasis.

The overhead fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over our makeshift war room. We burn past midnight and into the wee hours of the morning without coming up for air.

Coffee cups litter the table, alongside strewn papers and laptops aglow with streams of data. My eyes burn from the relentless scrutiny of surveillance footage, but the urgency of finding Nikki propels us forward.

Hale sits at the head of the table with a grim expression as he pours over the reports regarding the Becks and the Coles.

He taps a pen against his notepad with anger marking the rhythm. "I've combed through everything at least six times. Where the hell are Lydia and Nikki?" he growls at Jack and me. "How could you let her go out with that guy? He could have chopped her up, put her in a suitcase, and shipped her to China for all we know."

"Ever the optimist," Jack grumbles with his eyes still glued to his screen.

I shake my head at my laptop. "I think I've got something." I gesture to my screen as the two of them come this way and I rewind the footage from a security camera near where Nikki's car was found. "Watch this."

Jack leans in close and his breathing is ragged. He's been riding on adrenaline for the last twelve hours; we both have. The crash is going to come, and it might just take us out.

The grainy video plays, showing a deserted street bathed in the orange glow of streetlights. Then a silver sedan appears as it moves slowly, almost hesitating.

"There." I point as the sedan stops briefly next to Nikki's car, or at least the scant portion of it that the video affords us. Nikki parked perfectly out of reach of modern technology.

The driver's side is obscured by shadows, making it impossible to identify anyone.

"That could be our link." Jack blows out a breath. "Can we enhance that?"

"I'll send it to tech," I say, already drafting the email.

"Good work, Fallon." Hale rubs his temples as the weight of this nightmare etches deep into his features. "Keep pushing on that angle. We need something solid, something actionable."

The sun begins to rise and it feels as if our exhaustion is waging a war against the urgency of the situation. The office is quiet for the most part, save for the soft clicking of keyboards and the occasional shuffle of papers. Every so often, one of us gets up to refill a coffee mug or stretch our legs, but our focus never wavers.

My phone buzzes next to me. It's a message from the tech team and my heart hammers at the sight of it.

"Got something," I announce, pulling up an enhanced image of the sedan's license plate. And it's clear and readable against the night's backdrop.

Jack and Hale gather around as I run the plate through our database.

The anticipation is at its zenith as we wait for the screen to load.

"It's registered to an address in Briarwood," I say as a surge of adrenaline cuts through my fatigue. "It's registered to Lydia Cole."

Hale's eyes narrow. "Get a team ready. We might just have our break. Let's bring our agent home."

The shift from stagnation to action electrifies everyone in the room. We gather our things and, of course, Buddy as we head out the door.

My muscles ache, and with every step, it feels as if I'm walking underwater. But the thought of finding Nikki alive and ending this nightmare fuels my every step.

Hale tasks Jack and me to head to Briarwood asap. If we can locate Lydia's silver sedan, he's going to have a tow truck come out and haul it here to the forensics facility.

If Damien is innocent, or simply psychotic, he won't care where we haul it. If he's guilty, he might ask for a warrant. And we'll get that to him, but it will buy him time.

"Owen's story still doesn't sit right with me," I say as we head out on the road. "Every time we think we're getting a straight answer, he spins it off in another direction. He lied about how Nikki left the bar."

Jack nods, his gaze fixed on the passing lights. "He might have been trying to cover for what happened between the two of them. I don't know. But he's still squarely on top of my suspect list. Right along with Damien."

"And it was Damien's assistant, Jewel, who let it slip about his supposed affair. If Damien and Adrienne are sleeping together, that's a motive staring us right in the face."

"Why take Nikki?"

"To make Owen look guilty?"

"Unless Owen is guilty."

"And let's not rule out Adrienne," I say. "If she's underhanded enough to sleep with another woman's husband, she's capable of anything in my book. The woman has no moral compass."

"She could be a sociopath," he says. "I don't care what statistics say regarding gender in that arena. Someone caught Nikki off guard."

"Or they gave her a good whack over the head," I say, and Buddy whimpers from the back.

It's our turn to catch someone off guard.

And that's exactly what we're about to do.