Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Andi and Duke had barely made it out the glass doors of Morrison, Blake, and Associates when someone behind them called out. “Ms. Slade! Mr. McAllister!”
They turned.
A woman emerged from the front doors and ran toward them.
She was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties. She wore sensible flats, and an ID badge was clipped to her belt.
The woman’s eyes darted toward the revolving doors behind Andi and Duke, then back again. “I—I’m sorry for catching you out here. But I don’t want my boss to know I talked to you.”
“Why is that?” Andi asked.
The woman glanced around again and stepped to the side, away from any prying eyes inside the office. “They’re very private here and worried about bad publicity. It doesn’t make them bad people—just cautious, I guess.”
“I guess that make sense,” Andi murmured as she and Duke stepped to the side also.
“I’m really worried about Gina,” the woman continued.
Duke shifted subtly, angling his body so he blocked any remaining view from inside the building.
“What’s your name?” Andi asked.
“Lauren. I’m a paralegal. Gina and I worked late together sometimes.” She swallowed hard, unease rippling through her gaze. “This isn’t like her. I know everyone says that, but she’s the type who triple-checks calendar invites. She texts if she’s going to be five minutes late.”
Clearly, Lauren didn’t know about that time Gina disappeared. Andi didn’t bring it up.
Duke shifted and crossed his arms. “Do you have a theory?”
Lauren glanced around again. “The parking garage.”
Andi’s pulse jumped. “What about it?”
Lauren hesitated, then reached into her tote bag and pulled out her phone.
Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked it.
“I shouldn’t have this. But after Gina didn’t show up Wednesday, I asked security if they’d seen anything.
They wouldn’t tell me, obviously. But I know one of the guards—he asked me out a couple of times.
He was feeling generous, so he got the footage for me. ”
She angled the screen toward them.
The video was dark and grainy—timestamped Tuesday night, just after nine. The camera angle was high, overlooking rows of parked cars and concrete columns.
Andi leaned closer, holding her breath.
“That’s Gina.” Lauren pointed at the screen. “And that’s her car.”
A sedan sat near one of the support pillars. Gina appeared moments later, walking quickly, phone in hand.
Even through the poor resolution, Andi saw the tension in her posture.
She watched as Gina dropped her keys, grabbed them, then scrambled into her car as if spooked.
When there was no movement for a moment, Andi scanned the rest of the footage.
That was when she spotted an old, white van parked in the corner.
An old, white van . . . Colin had mentioned seeing that van in the parking garage and near Gina’s car.
Lauren pointed to it. “It has out-of-state plates. I can’t make out the letters and numbers—not on my phone. But maybe someone with more technology can.”
A moment later, Gina’s door opened. She darted from her car in a frantic run toward the stairwell.
Andi’s heart pounded in her ears as she watched.
A second later, a man emerged from the van.
Andi’s stomach clenched as she continued to watch the video.
The man wore dark clothing, and his face was angled down—but a harsh circle of light flared suddenly, washing out the image entirely.
“A headlamp,” Duke muttered as he squinted at the screen.
The beam obliterated detail. The man’s face was nothing but white glare, a moving void.
Then the video jumped.
When the camera view stabilized again, the van was already pulling away.
Andi leaned closer, her pulse steadying even as her mind sharpened. This wasn’t a glitch. It was too clean for that. Someone had either altered the footage or used a blocker to interfere with the camera’s ability to record details—but they’d left this moment intact.
Deliberately.
Whoever had done this wanted them to see the beginning of Gina’s abduction—but not the identifying markers. No license plate. No clear face. Just enough to prove intent. Just enough to demonstrate power.
Almost as if he were controlling the evidence.
Almost as if he were dictating the narrative.
“Did you give this to the police?” Duke glanced at Lauren. “They need to see it.”
“I just got it a few minutes ago,” Lauren said. “Danny—my friend—had to wait until he had a minute alone to look for this.”
“I need to show the cops this.” Andi’s voice stayed even, but her thoughts were already racing ahead. “It’s proof that something happened to Gina.”
More than proof—it was a failure point.
If this footage existed and hadn’t been pulled immediately, then procedure had broken down somewhere. Either the police hadn’t canvassed properly, or they’d dismissed the footage before understanding its relevance. Chain of custody. Preservation of evidence. Reasonable diligence.
Any decent attorney would eat this alive.
This wasn’t just negligence—it was exposure. The kind that led to depositions and internal reviews and settlements no one wanted to talk about.
A lawsuit waiting to happen.
Andi swallowed, forcing herself to stay in the present. Accountability could come later.
Right now, this was about Gina.
And about stopping the man who thought he got to decide what the truth looked like.
Another thought hit Andi. “What about Gina’s car?”
Why hadn’t she thought about this before? The location of Gina’s car could tell them a lot.
“That’s what’s strange. It’s gone.” Lauren’s voice trembled. “I asked Danny about it, and he tried to find on video when someone took it. However, all the cameras went dead for about an hour on Tuesday night. That must be when someone grabbed it.”
“That’s . . . unfortunate.” Duke’s jaw tightened.
Lauren looked at Andi then Duke, desperation plain on her face. “Please tell me you’re not giving up.”
Andi met her gaze, steady despite the storm inside her. “We’re not.”
Lauren exhaled shakily, relief breaking through fear. “Thank you. Gina’s a good person. She doesn’t deserve to be ignored. Now, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll send you the video.”
They exchanged their contact information before she slipped back toward the building.
When she was gone, Duke and Andi looked at each other.
Neither had to say anything to know what the other was thinking.
Gina was in grave danger, and time was ticking away.