Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Graham, the nurses are going to try to stop you,” Trenda warned.
“And your point is?”
I pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. Sure enough, the charge nurse who'd been monitoring my condition rushed over with alarm written all over her face.
“Mr. Wallace, you can't leave. You haven't been discharged.”
“Watch me.”
“Sir, you have a severe concussion. You could have complications.”
I kept walking toward the elevator, Roxie and Ava flanking me like bodyguards, with Trenda leading the charge. The nurse followed, her voice growing more urgent.
“I'm calling security.”
“Call whoever you want.” I punched the elevator button. “My woman's been kidnapped. I'm leaving.”
The elevator arrived with a soft ding. Trenda pressed the button for the parking garage while the nurse continued her protests from the hallway.
“This isn’t just against medical advice, this is against security protocols,” she called out as the doors slid shut.
“So is half the shit I did in the Navy.” I leaned against the elevator wall, conserving energy for what lay ahead. “Didn't stop me then.”
Trenda's SUV sat in the far corner of the parking garage. First, we had to move her son’s car seat before we could all fit.
Ava helped me into the passenger seat as Trenda got into the driver’s seat, though I would have made it on my own.
The blanket shifted as I settled in, and I had to adjust it to maintain what little dignity I had left.
Ava and Roxie got into the back, then Trenda turned to me. “Where am I taking you?” Trenda asked as she started the engine.
“My house. I need clothes and real weapons.”
“A hell? Are you like Simon with a gun safe and an arsenal?”
“Something like that,” I answered.
The drive took thirty minutes that felt like five hours. Every red light, every slow-moving car in front of us was another minute that Glenda had with Joy. Another minute for things to go wrong.
Trenda pulled up to my house. Someone had nailed plywood in place of my front door, not that it would keep out any intruders. But it was something. I went to the garage and keyed in the passcode to open it up.
Sweet. I sighed with relief. My truck was there, right next to my Harley. It had been in the driveway when we’d been SWATed. Whoever put the plywood up must have parked my truck in the garage as well.
I pulled the blanket around me like a toga, walking tall as the ladies followed me into the house.
I headed straight for my bedroom and pulled on briefs, cargo pants, a tight T-shirt that would help keep the bandages around my ribs in place, socks, and boots.
I went to the gun safe at the back of my closet.
“Wallace,” Simon bellowed from my living room. I pulled out a knife and sheathed it in the side pocket of my pants. Then I opened my bedroom door and made my way to the living room.
“Trenda, you’re a tattle-tale. I’m not inviting you on any more breakouts.”
“Fine by me,” she smirked.
“You look like shit.” Simon shook his head. “Actually, you look like you did two days ago. What the fuck were you thinking, walking out of the hospital?”
I ignored him. “What's the status on finding Joy?”
“Still nothing from the APB. But Nash has all of his deputies out looking, as well as Pigeon Forge, Gainesville, and Knoxville. Meanwhile, Hart has given us lots of leads to follow.”
“Then why are we standing around here talking?”
I headed toward the garage door, but Simon caught my arm.
“Graham.” His voice carried the authority of someone who'd led men in combat. “I need to know your head's on straight.”
“It is.”
“Because if you're still beating yourself up over Africa, you're no good to Joy right now.”
I met his gaze directly. “I'm not the same man who left that hospital room an hour ago. I've got my priorities straight.”
Simon studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. “Good. Because Joy's counting on us.”
“She's counting on me.” I headed for the door. “And I'm not going to let her down.”
We walked into the Onyx security office. Jase was leaning against a wall. He looked up as we walked in. “Nothing at Glenda's townhome. Place was clean as a whistle.”
“Too clean,” Seth added. “Like she'd scrubbed it down before she grabbed Joy.”
“Nash is treating it as a crime scene now,” Hart said without looking up from his computer terminal. “But I doubt they'll find anything useful.”
I spotted a small kitten in a carrier beside Hart’s chair.
“Where did you find the cat?”
“Locked in a bathroom,” Jase said. “No food, no water. Hardly moving. Brought it so Roxie could take a look.”
“It’s Rosebud. That bitch!” Roxie stormed over to the carrier and knelt down, making soft cooing sounds. The kitten mewed in response, pressing against the bars.
Roxie's voice carried the protective instinct that made her such a good veterinarian. “We'll get you fixed up.”
“You won’t believe the email that was waiting for me. I hadn’t opened it with everything going on with Joy until I got some leads,” Hart said, his voice thick with frustration.
“Try me.”
Hart looked up from his computer. “We just got confirmation that the original stalker was apprehended in Scotland four days ago.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “Four days ago?”
“He attempted another kidnapping in Edinburgh. Same MO as Dublin and London, matched the description Joy gave them. Scottish police caught him in the act.”
“Son of a bitch.” I ran my hands through my hair. “If they'd told us four days ago, we would have known to look elsewhere.”
“Yeah, well, bitching about that now isn’t helpful,” Simon said.
“So what leads do you have?” I asked.
“Ava mentioned a boyfriend named Rob that Glenda recently broke up with. I ran a search.” Hart pulled up a screen full of search results. “I've been through Glenda's tablet, her social media, her email accounts. There's no mention of anyone named Rob or Robert. No photos, no messages, nothing.”
“Maybe she deleted everything after the breakup,” Roxie suggested.
“This deep? I'm talking about cached files, deleted emails, browser history. It's like this guy never existed in her digital life. But it’s a good lead. There is something fishy going on. I’m digging even deeper.”
“Could be she made him up. Created a fictional boyfriend to seem more normal,” Simon asked. “You know, to fit in?”
“I could see that,” Ava nodded. “Everything about her is fake, why not a fake boyfriend?”
“No, that’s not it,” Roxie interjected. “I think it would be like how she fixated on Joy. I would bet she fixated on some random guy in her life and made him her boyfriend in her psycho brain.”
“Yeah,” Ava said excitedly. “You’re right.”
“So, a neighbor maybe,” Hart said thoughtfully.
“Or a coworker.” Simon nodded.
“Give me a minute.” Hart started furiously typing.
Hart's fingers flew over his keyboard. “Pulling up Glenda's employment history now.”
Minutes passed while Hart searched and cross-referenced databases. I found myself pacing the small space, my ribs protesting with each step. The pain helped keep me focused.
“Got something.” Hart's voice cut through the tension. “Robert Chen, age thirty-four. Worked in the same accounting firm as Glenda for eight months last year.”
“Where is he now?” Simon asked.
“Dead.” Hart's voice turned grim. “Hit-and-run accident. Never found the driver.”
Ava's sharp intake of breath made everyone turn toward her. “When exactly?”
Hart checked his notes. “Middle of May.”
“Be more specific,” Ava shot out the question. “And tell me the day of the week.”
He looked down at the computer. “Friday, May fifteenth.”
Ava looked around the room. “Does anybody remember when we went to Louey’s? I know it was a Friday in mid-May. Was it the fifteenth?”
Roxie pulled her phone out of her purse. She tapped on her screen and looked up, her mouth open. She nodded. “Yep. That was the night we did karaoke.”
“The night Joy sang,” Ava clarified. “The night Glenda got all hot and bothered about Joy.” Ava nodded.
Roxie's face went pale. “The night she said Rob wouldn't let her talk to Joy. The night he supposedly broke up with her.”
The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. Glenda hadn't been dumped by her boyfriend. She'd murdered him for interfering with her obsession.
“So, we know she's capable of killing,” I said. “What else do we know about Robert Chen?”
Hart was already pulling up property records. “Rental apartment downtown. Nothing special. But wait.” His fingers paused over the keyboard. “There's a second property listed under his name. Inherited from his grandmother two years ago.”
“Where?”
“Percy Priest Lake. About forty minutes south of the city.”
I grabbed my jacket. “Isolated. That's where she took Joy.”
“Graham, we don't know that for sure,” Simon warned. “It could be the rental.”
“Hart, check the records. Has that been rented by somebody else since his death?”
Hart did another quick search, looked up, and nodded.
“Then it’s the cabin,” I said. “It's our best lead.” I headed for the door. “And every minute we waste talking is another minute Joy's in danger.”
The others were already moving, grabbing weapons and equipment. Simon appeared at my side with a Kevlar vest.
“Put this on.”
I shrugged into the vest, ignoring the way it pressed against my broken ribs. The pain was background noise now. Everything that mattered was focused on a single objective.
Get to Joy. Stop Glenda. Bring my woman home.
We were going to end this.
Today.