Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

“ G ot it!” Evan’s voice exploded into the SUV’s interior. “Got eyes on the audiovisual van. It’s just turned into Providence Street. Looks like it’s heading for the I-10 West on-ramp. You’re not far behind him. I’ll keep watching.”

Rochelle took a sharp turn, wheels screeching as she adjusted their direction to follow the DA’s tech van. Up ahead, Abasi’s vehicle skidded onto the road in front of them. The other two team vehicles appeared in their rearview mirror. It felt good—no, it felt right— to have his team close by.

“You pulled the plug too soon,” Noah said as Rochelle veered onto the I-10, slicing through three lanes of busy traffic as though all other cars were invisible. “On the team. We just needed time.”

“How about we find Annabelle, and then we discuss that?” she said as she cut off a large pickup truck. They hit their horn in protest.

The road was packed for rush hour. Cars sat bumper to bumper in the lanes opposite them, heading east. Up ahead, the same congested situation awaited them. At least if they were stuck in traffic, the tech van would be too.

The relentless Texan sun beat down on the motorway and bounced off the cars. It glinted off their windshield, blinding Noah for a second. He reached into the pocket of his battered leather jacket for his shades and slipped them on. It made little difference.

Inside their SUV, the air conditioning pumped out ice-cold air in an attempt to combat the stifling Houston heat.

There was no air conditioning in the case they’d stuffed Annabelle inside.

No. He couldn’t think about that.

He had to focus on getting to her. Everything else could be fixed once she was safe in his arms.

“It has to be here somewhere,” Rochelle muttered. “Anybody got eyes on the van?”

The team replied with a chorus of negatives.

“Evan,” Noah snapped. “You’re sure it was the I-10? And are you sure he was heading west?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Evan fought to keep the irritation out of his voice because he knew Noah had to be barely holding on, terrified of what might happen to Annabelle.

He was pretty damn shaken himself. Despite her being older than him, he thought of her as the little sister they’d never had. She was… special. Even while dealing with all her setbacks and problems, she still managed to laugh and joke and create worlds that made others smile.

He growled at his screen. They had to get her back. They’d had one damn job—keep her safe—and they’d stuffed it up.

As he watched the video feed from the traffic system, his mind battled to figure out how the tech had pulled off Annabelle’s abduction. Sure, the guy had been obsessively geeky about his audiovisual prowess, but he hadn’t exactly come across as a criminal mastermind. Had he drugged Annabelle when the ADA left the room? And why hadn’t the ADA been mad at him for leaving all that expensive equipment behind? Perhaps she told him they were coming back later.

Still…

“I’ve got him.” Abasi’s voice came over the comms system. “He’s heading toward the Katy Freeway. Do we cut him off or wait until he exits?”

“We wait,” Noah said. “We can’t get to him on here anyway, not in this traffic. And not without causing a ton of damage.”

“We can’t risk an accident on the interstate,” Rochelle agreed. “Anybody got any idea where he’s heading?”

“Eddie has a property in Houston Heights,” Rodrigo said.

“Isn’t that where the ADA said they’d spotted him earlier?” Katrina asked.

“Yeah.” Noah sounded deadly.

Evan brought up the records. “He’s got an old Victorian in what looks like an exclusive gated community. Lots of space around it.”

“I don’t know,” Rodrigo said. “If he was spotted there, the cops know where he is. So why risk having Annabelle taken straight to him?”

“Arrogance?” Harris suggested.

“It looks pretty isolated.” Evan stared at the Google Earth images. “It’s got a massive garden, lots of old trees, and looks like there’s a couple of outbuildings too. From the fences and cameras, I doubt the cops could get close enough to see what’s going on in there unless they walked up to the front door and knocked.”

“I think the cops are more interested in the fighting that’s breaking out all over the city,” Rochelle said. “The situation’s a powder keg. If it were me, and I knew where Eddie was located, I’d put checking on him on the back burner until I’d dealt with everything else.”

“He’s changing lanes,” Abasi said, “taking an outer lane, maybe getting ready to exit.”

As the radio went silent, Evan pictured their vehicles negotiating the traffic to stay with the van. On one of his screens, he could see the crammed traffic on the I-10. Nothing was moving very fast at all. Another screen displayed the past few hours’ video surveillance, which he kept glancing at to see if he’d missed anything.

But Evan kept returning to what happened to Annabelle in that small office. How had the tech drugged her? Why hadn’t the ADA noticed? If only they’d had a camera in there.

Then it hit him.

There had been a camera in there.

For a brief time, the secure audiovisual equipment had been up and running. Maybe long enough to capture some imagery that might help the team. All he had to do was hack into the video feed’s cloud storage—the unhackable cloud storage owned by the district attorney’s office. And he had to do it within the next couple of minutes. Hell, it was worth a try. And Rochelle had already told him that their situation merited all the hacking he could do—or something like that…

Evan cracked his knuckles and spun his chair to face the separate computer set up beside his. He could try to hack the DA’s secure server while watching the traffic camera footage and glancing at the surveillance video. He was a multitasker. It’s what his generation was born to do.

As he reached for the keyboard, something struck his arm with such force that it sent him flying from his chair. His head connected with the corner of his desk as he fell.

For one awful second, he thought he saw someone standing over him with a gun.

And then he saw nothing at all.

The Benson Security vehicles followed the DA’s audiovisual van at a reasonable distance, waiting for it to signal which exit it planned to take.

It was all happening too damn slowly. But they couldn’t rush it. They couldn’t risk spooking the driver or running the vehicle off the road. Annabelle’s life depended on it.

“Something isn’t right,” Rochelle said. “I keep coming back to the timing of things, and something isn’t adding up. It’s sitting there, niggling at the back of my brain, but I can’t quite grasp what’s annoying me.”

Noah struggled to concentrate, but he knew from her tone that this was important. “What do you mean?”

“The detectives both received calls telling them that violence was breaking out all over the place, and they were worried the city was on the verge of full-blown gang warfare.”

“Yeah,” Noah said while inside, he screamed for her to hurry up.

“Then, Margaret Grant comes in to say that Annabelle was helping them pack up because the DA’s called them back to the office.” She frowned. “Next thing, Violet’s shouting about not being the tech guy’s porter. Why didn’t Annabelle help carry the case down the stairs?”

Noah clenched his jaw before replying. “Because she was in the case.”

“So, in the minute or two that the ADA was out of the room, the tech managed to drug Annabelle and stuff her into the case? It doesn’t seem like enough time to do all that.”

He stilled, staring at her with every ounce of focus he possessed.

“He’s taking exit 767B toward Watson.” Abasi’s voice came over the radio.

Rochelle slid across the lanes to follow.

“Go on,” Noah prompted.

She glanced at him warily. “I can’t think of a drug that would’ve worked that fast. Something must have been slipped into her coffee earlier. And, if that was the case, wouldn’t the ADA have noticed that Annabelle was behaving as though she was sedated?”

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been emptied over Noah’s head.

“Evan,” Rodrigo said over the radio. “You got an address for Hanson’s property in the Heights?”

Sparks flew in Noah’s brain as they waited for a reply. Connections formed where none had existed before.

“The ADA would’ve noticed the equipment all over the office,” he said. “She was the one who ordered the tech to pack up. Why wasn’t she annoyed he left it there?”

“Evan, I need that address,” Rodrigo repeated.

Noah pulled out his phone and dialed the ADA. There was no reply. He dialed the DA’s office, and the receptionist answered.

“I need to speak to ADA Grant,” he said without preamble.

“Evan,” Rodrigo snapped. “Are you there, damn it? We need that info.”

“I’m calling him,” one of the other triplets said. “He’s probably on a bathroom break.”

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said in Noah’s ear. “ADA Grant called in sick this afternoon.”

“This is Noah Merchant. ADA Grant was just with us at the warehouse. She said she was coming into the office for a meeting with the DA. Could you check again, please?”

“I’m afraid you must have misheard,” the woman said. “DA Carpenter had a series of meetings in San Antonio today. He won’t be back in Houston until tomorrow.”

Noah hung up as the world tilted yet again. “Margaret Grant isn’t at the office, and the DA’s in San Antonio. Has been all day.”

“He isn’t picking up,” one of the triplets said about Evan, sounding worried.

Rochelle cast him a worried look before speaking to the team. “Evan,” she raised her voice. “Evan, come in.”

There was no reply. Noah felt sick. Evan wasn’t answering, the ADA had gone missing after lying to them, and there were serious questions over just how involved the tech guy had been in Annabelle’s disappearance.

“Harris,” Noah barked into their comms. “You can check your brother’s location on your phone, right?”

“Doing it now,” came the reply. “He’s in the office. Why isn’t he picking up?”

Because he couldn’t. Noah had made a terrible mistake. He’d misread the situation, missed all the red flags, and had gone running in the wrong direction.

“Turn the car around,” Noah ordered. “We need to get back to the warehouse now.”

“We’re on the interstate,” Rochelle said. “I can’t turn around.”

“Then speed up and get to the next exit as fast as you can. We need to get back there.”

“What about the van?” Abasi asked.

“I’m calling the DA’s office for the driver’s number. Just get off the interstate.”

Noah rang the receptionist again and explained that he needed the tech’s number. He hung up and immediately called the man.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello?” he said, sounding unstressed.

“This is Noah Merchant from Benson Security.”

Rochelle cut off another driver as she slid across lanes to the nearest exit. Horns blared all around them.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Merchant,” the tech said cheerily.

“I just wanted to ask why you left your equipment at the warehouse.”

“Oh yeah, ADA Grant said she wanted Evan to check it out. Apparently, he’s some hotshot hacker, and she’s real worried about security for the trial. We were supposed to go over the system today, but she got a call telling her she was needed back at the office.”

Fury coursed through Noah. “Why did you take the cases if you were leaving the tech?”

“I didn’t get that either, but Ms. Grant said the DA needed them for something, so I brought them with me.”

“Was Annabelle still in the room when you left?”

“Yeah, she was kinda wiped out though and kept yawning. Ms. Grant thought she was still fighting off the flu and said it was probably a good thing to give the prep a rest for the day. I hope she feels better soon.” He sounded genuinely concerned and definitely not like a man who was lying to cover his ass.

“The DA’s office isn’t far from the warehouse. Why are you heading to Houston Heights?”

“Oh, Ms. Grant asked me to drop off a package for her first. Said it was something important to do with the case. Wait! How do you know I’m going to Houston Heights?”

Noah ignored the question. “What address did she give you?”

He rattled it off, and Noah hung up, uncaring that he’d cut the man off.

“How much do you bet that this is the address Rodrigo was after?” he said to Rochelle.

“She wanted the tech to lead us to Eddie’s house,” Rochelle said as she performed another illegal turn, cutting through traffic, to get them on the right road back to the warehouse.

“Which means he probably isn’t there.” Noah felt sick to his stomach. He lifted the radio. “Everybody, back to the warehouse as fast as you can. I don’t give a crap what you do to get there. Just make it quick. The van’s a decoy. Annabelle’s still at the warehouse, and Eddie Hanson’s still unaccounted for. ADA Grant has gone missing, and it looks like she set this whole thing up.”

“What about Evan?” one of his brothers asked, a tremor in his voice. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know,” Noah said, the weight of those words laying heavily on his soul. It was his fault Evan was in trouble. If he hadn’t jumped to conclusions, the geeky tech would never have been left alone in the warehouse.

Now, Evan and Annabelle were vulnerable. And Eddie Hanson knew exactly where to find them.