Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Max pulled up to Lana’s house. He hopped out of his car and jogged up her front walkway, whistling to himself.
It had taken him a whole seven minutes to get here, which had annoyed him.
But there’d been a lot of activity around the waterfront, people out enjoying themselves and clogging up a couple of the intersections, despite the late hour.
He’d passed the time thinking about Lana, anticipating her kisses, the taste of her skin. As soon as he got ahold of her tonight, there was no way he was letting her go until he absolutely had to.
He went to knock on her door. He was surprised that Lana wasn’t outside already, bag packed and ready to go. But maybe she hadn’t finished that phone call with her work colleague.
Then he noticed that her door was cracked open. That didn’t seem like Lana. It wasn’t exactly safe. But maybe he was overthinking things. She was probably just as anxious to see him as he was. And she’d known he was just minutes away.
Max nudged the door open. “Lana?” He walked into her kitchen. He didn’t hear anything from further in the house. He walked toward her bedroom and spotted the suitcase on the floor, the lid still open, the contents neatly folded.
Tingles of worry shot through him. Something wasn’t right.
“Lana?” he shouted.
Max made a quick circuit of the rest of the rooms. She wasn’t anywhere. His heart was beating faster and faster as the terrible realization sank in.
She was gone.
She was really gone.
She’d left her bag here, her purse on the counter, her front door open.
Jesus. Someone had taken her.
Cursing, he fumbled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a detective he knew with West Oaks P.D. Adrenaline was taking over, clearing his head and pushing his terror away. He explained to the detective what had happened. The man promised to send units immediately, and then follow himself.
“Any indication of who might’ve taken her? Any suspects?”
Max had already mentioned that Lana had a stalker. This detective was well aware of her file. “We think it’s a man named Paxton Wayfair, or someone who’s working for him.”
Max remembered the phone call from Lana’s work colleague. It must’ve happened right before she disappeared. “And there’s a man named Trevor who works with her at the DA’s office. I want to know where he is. It’s possible he has something to do with this. I can’t remember his last name.”
“I think it’s Trevor Allen. I know him. You stay put. We’ll be there soon.”
Max remembered the doorbell camera as he was speaking to the detective. He went to the panel by Lana’s door and woke up the screen.
It was possible the doorbell camera had recorded Lana’s kidnapping. But he didn’t know her security code to gain access to the system. Fuck.
Max dialed Sylvie’s number. Thank god she worked the same kind of hours he did. He explained to her as quickly as possible what had happened, and he was grateful that she kept her emotion tamped down. She was all business.
“I don’t see any alarms triggered, and her panic button hasn’t been activated.”
Max paced across Lana’s kitchen. “I don’t think she had time. Either the guy tricked her into coming outside, or he had some other way in. There was no forced entry. But I believe she left through the front door.”
“Accessing the doorbell camera now.”
Agonizing seconds passed as Max waited for Sylvie to speak again. Then he heard her curse under her breath. “I’ve got it, boss. Sending the clip to your phone now.”
Max hit play on the video she’d sent. It showed Lana walking away from her front door, crossing the street. She stopped at a car that had been parked on the opposite curb. He saw her peer into the driver’s seat, then go around to the trunk. Open it.
A man wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses lunged out of the shadows. Max bit down on his tongue, tasting blood. The man put a dark bag over Lana’s head and tossed her into the trunk before getting into the car and driving off.
Max had stopped breathing.
“I’m isolating the image of the license plate,” Sylvie said. “I’ll send the tag, plus the make and model, over to the police so they can issue a BOLO. The timestamp is just a few minutes old.”
“Can you access any other surveillance camera feeds to show where they might have gone?”
“Working on that now. I’ll try to have something for you soon.”
Max heard a siren. The first squad car roared up to the curb outside the house.
Half an hour later, Lana’s townhouse was swarming with police.
His detective friend had contacted L.A.P.D., who sent someone to Paxton Wayfair’s home to question the man. But so far, that hadn’t turned up anything useful. The lawyer admitted he’d seen Lana earlier in the day but claimed to know nothing about her stalker.
Sylvie had identified the kidnapper’s car as belonging to Trevor Allen.
The police had tried Trevor’s home, too, but there was no sign of him.
The man on the video certainly hadn’t matched the younger attorney’s build, though.
Trevor was stocky and short. Max guessed that Trevor was either in on it, or he’d been kidnapped, too.
Which explained how the kidnapper got Lana outside. The phone call from Trevor.
Sylvie had reported that the suspect vehicle was seen traveling south on the freeway along the coast. But it exited from there, and Sylvie had seen no further sign of it on surveillance or traffic cameras.
There were all kinds of twisty old roads down there, isolated houses.
Police vehicles were out driving the area just in case they spotted something.
But there was no way to know where the guy was taking Lana.
Half an hour gone. Trevor Allen’s car could be anywhere. And Max was barely holding his shit together.
Max’s phone rang. Sylvie was calling again.
“Please tell me you’ve spotted Trevor’s car somewhere.”
“Not yet. But Dominic Crane called our main line. He’s been trying to reach you. He says it’s about Lana. Should I connect him through to your cell?”
“Do it.”
Max walked away from Lana’s house toward a small patch of quiet, where curious neighbors and police officers weren’t congregating.
“Bennett?”
“I swear to god, Crane, if you’re fucking with me right now, I’m going to—”
“Jeez, everyone knows you’re a hot head. But shouldn’t you wait until you’re provoked? What are you already so upset about, apart from my general existence?”
“Lana’s been kidnapped.”
“Oh. Shit. I understand now. What’s happened?”
“It’s her stalker. The one my team linked to your Syndicate. If you have anything to do with this…”
“I don’t. I wouldn’t. I’d have nothing to gain.”
“So, what’s your information?” Max prayed it would help them find her.
“I asked around. Called in some favors from people who don’t actively wish me dead. I found a low-level guy who was hired to keep tabs on you, way back at the end of last year.”
“Wait. On me?”
“Yep. You. He was supposed to get to know your schedule, who you spent time with. The client seemed to have a real hard-on for you. But in the last few months, the orders changed to focus on a female West Oaks DA: Lana. Follow her around, take pictures. Report back whatever he saw. Especially anything involving you.”
“Report to whom?”
“He didn’t know. He had a phone number for the client and a drop location.”
Okay. So this explained the Silverlake connection. But why would this client want to go after Max himself?
“Did your guy make the harassing phone calls to Lana?”
“Not personally. He did say he took some pictures. But he provided a burner phone to the client. I’m guessing the same phone used to call Lana.”
“The stalker also rear-ended her. Chased her in his car. Was that your guy, too?”
“If it was, he didn’t mention it. And believe me, he was spilling. Some of my former associates in the Syndicate don’t find me intimidating, but I can be persuasive when I choose to be.”
Max’s brain worked, trying to fit all these pieces together. The low-level Syndicate guy hadn’t done much, apparently, aside from recon for his client. The client was the real stalker, and he’d done most of his own dirty work. Calling Lana, chasing her. Maybe sending the scarf.
First, he’d been after Max. Then Lana.
But he hadn’t actively stalked Max. Max hadn’t even known anybody was watching him. Why step up the threats and the harassment with Lana? Just because she was a beautiful woman?
No. Not only that. Because she was close to Max.
The stalker hadn’t just been getting off on Lana’s fear. He’d been targeting Max, too. Going after someone Max cared about.
And now this, the kidnapping. The stalker had taken the woman Max loved. As if he wanted Max to suffer.
Like this guy wanted revenge.
“So, let’s say this client wanted to hurt Lana to get some kind of revenge on me. What else did your guy say about his client? There had to be something. Was the client old? Young? Did he have an accent?”
Crane made a humming sound. “Rich. But local. My guy said the client sounded like a rich asshole from around here. Southern California. But he probably says that about me. The description fits you too, Bennett. No offense.”
Max stopped fidgeting. Cold spread through his veins. “Rich,” he repeated. “From around here.”
Oh, fuck me.
Max had nearly forgotten the other thing he knew about this stalker. The man had been helping Wayfair win the Hearst case.
Maybe Wayfair truly hadn’t known his source’s identity. But the stalker hadn’t just wanted to target Lana or get revenge on Max. He’d wanted to manipulate the Hearst trial. He’d had the financial means to hire the Silverlake Syndicate for help.
And this fucker was so sadistic that he’d enjoyed terrifying a woman. Like it was just one extra perk.
Who else could it be but Ryan Hearst himself?