Chapter Thirty-Two
Danny paced his hotel room, phone to his ear. The interview at the Phoenix police station had taken longer than he’d expected, and now it was late, middle of the night, East Coast time. Bella wasn’t answering.
Not his calls. Or texts.
She kept her phone by her bed. It wasn’t like her not to pick up.
The location app on her phone showed her home address.
He’d checked her security cameras. Talia had picked Bella up for their evening out and brought her home afterward. They’d gone in through the garage. Twenty minutes later, Talia had backed her car out, waved goodbye, and driven away as the garage door closed.
It had looked perfectly ordinary.
It’s late. Bella’s asleep.
His hand fell to his side, the phone still clutched in his grip.
Still, dread was an oily residue that clung to his skin.
“Jesus, Danny, get your shit together.” He shoved fingers through his hair. “She’s probably asleep, or her phone died.”
Just because he’d had a shitty day didn’t mean he needed to assume the worst.
And yet he couldn’t shake it.
He cracked open a bottle of water, wishing it was a beer instead.
Three days without her, and he was a total wreck.
Damn, he had it bad.
His phone rang. 704. Charlotte area code.
Not Bella’s number, but who else would call him at this hour? “Hello?”
“Mr. Mayhew, this is Detective Warren from the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Homicide Unit.”
Danny’s body iced.
“Bella.” Her name tore out of him before he could stop it.
Silence.
Only seconds, but also a lifetime.
The detective cleared his throat. “Ah, no, sir. I’m calling regarding Omar Hassan.”
Danny’s legs gave out, dropping him onto the bed. His air-starved lungs filled with what sounded dangerously close to a sob. “Thank God.”
When he recovered his wits, he frowned. “Wait, homicide?”
“The medical examiner found a small puncture wound on Mr. Hassan’s chest that went unnoticed during his medical emergency, so she ran a toxicology screen.”
A brick formed in Danny’s stomach. “And?”
“There were trace amounts of a cardiotoxin that threw his heart into a fatal arrhythmia. His death is now a homicide investigation. We’re questioning everyone who had physical contact with the victim in the hours leading to his death.”
His shoulders tensed. “Including me.”
“I need you to come in for an interview.”
“I’m out of town on an assignment.”
“You were one of the last people to have physical contact with the victim, sir. Make the time.”
Danny sighed. “You’ve got my information. I’ll be back by the end of the week.” He hung up, his mind racing.
Someone had murdered Omar Hassan.
He was an obvious suspect because his job had been to protect Bella. He’d put a chokehold on Hassan and taken him down.
And he’d been more than willing to take the bastard out permanently to keep her safe.
But he hadn’t murdered Hassan.
So who had?
He tried calling Bella again.
No answer.
This time, he left a message. “Bella, honey. Please.” He stopped. Inhaled a ragged breath. “Please pick up the phone. I need you to call me back and tell me you’re safe.”
Opening his travel app, he looked for flights to Charlotte.
When his phone rang again, he glanced at the name on the screen and muttered a curse. Everyone was calling him except for the one person he needed to hear from.
His thumb hovered over the screen. He exhaled sharply before answering. “Ms. Flores.”
“Mr. Mayhew, I thought you’d call me back after the photo I texted you earlier.” Her tone sharpened. “Did you even look at it?”
The photo. He hadn’t done more than glance at it. After finding Agent Anderson with a bullet in her head, he’d forgotten about it.
“I was busy.” She did not want to know about his day.
“I did some digging into Omar Hassan’s background, curious as to what drove him to suddenly target Isabella Strickland after all these years.”
Heat erupted behind Danny’s eyes. “Let’s see. His father is released from prison, then dies. Shortly after, you write an exposé on Bella’s childhood trauma that makes the national news and triggers Hassan into seeking revenge.” His hand went to the back of his neck as he resumed pacing.
Bella wasn’t answering.
And Hassan had been murdered.
Alarm bells were going off like a klaxon in his head.
“It wasn’t an exposé. It was two paragraphs.” Olivia’s voice lowered. “Regardless of what you think of me, I never threatened Isabella or intended to cause her any harm.”
“Then keep her out of your damn newspaper. You’ve done enough damage.”
“I’m trying to save her!”
The stridency in her voice caught Danny off guard. He swiped to the photo she’d sent him earlier. A photograph of Miran Hassan, his wife, son, and daughter at the beach during happier times.
Omar looked to be twelve years old. The girl, seven or eight.
“Did you know Miran Hassan’s wife divorced him and disappeared with their two children after his arrest?” Olivia continued. “Raised them in northern California under a different surname—her maiden name.”
He zoomed in on the little girl.
Dark eyes. Dark hair. A crescent-shaped scar beneath her right eye.
The breath in his lungs froze. “Collins.”
“Amina Hassan legally changed her name to Talia Collins in high school. I asked her why she didn’t acknowledge—”
“Wait.” Danny cut her off, adrenaline rocketing through his body. “You spoke with her?”
“This morning—or rather yesterday morning, now that it’s after midnight. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you and Isabella all day.”
“Fuck.” He shot to his feet, heart slamming against his ribs. “Call 911, get CMPD over to Bella’s home.” He rattled off the address, then grabbed his duffel.
“What’s going on?”
“Hassan was murdered and Bella’s not answering her phone. Call the police.” He hung up before Olivia could say anything further.
Olivia Flores outed Talia, then Talia made her move.
The zipper caught twice before he forced the bag shut. Then he raced to Tavari’s room and pounded on the door.
The deadbolt clicked open. Tavari stood in his doorway, dressed in a pair of sleep shorts, his eyes bleary. “Bro. It’s late.”
“Bella’s in trouble. I’m catching the red-eye to Charlotte.” Danny shifted the strap on his shoulder, his body twitching with nervous energy. His mission calm had deserted him completely.
Tavari’s expression sharpened. “You’re in no condition to drive. Give me two secs.” He threw on a T-shirt and shoes and grabbed his wallet and keys.
They sprinted to Tavari’s rental SUV.
Danny tried calling and texting Bella again.
“I can’t reach her.” His voice cracked.
Tavari’s hand left the steering wheel to grip Danny’s shoulder. “Breathe, buddy.”
“Go faster.” The red-eye was in less than an hour.
If he missed it…
If Talia hurt Bella.
The band around his ribs threatened to crush him.
He searched for Nathan’s number with eyes gone blurry.
Nathan answered, his voice husky with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
“The person threatening Bella was under our noses all along. Talia Collins is Amina Hassan—Omar’s sister.”
Nathan swore. “You still in Phoenix?”
“I’m catching a flight to Charlotte now. Police have been notified.” His damn voice cracked again. “Bella’s not answering her phone.”
“Steady, amigo. Where’s Tavari?”
“He’s driving me to the airport.”
“I’ll call Lachlan. We’ll be on the first flight out in the morning. We’ve got your six.”
“What if I’m too late? What if she’s—” The words strangled in Danny’s throat.
“Don’t lose your shit, Chaos. We’re going to find her in time.”
Chaos. His SEAL nickname. The way his entire world felt right now.
“We’re here.” Tavari pulled up to the curb.
“I gotta go,” Danny told Nathan. He gripped Tavari’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
Then he sprinted into the terminal.
Time slipped away as he checked his bag and got through security. At least at this hour, the lines were short.
He jogged through the terminal.
His phone rang. “Hello?” He didn’t slow down. According to the airline app, boarding had begun for his flight.
“This is Officer Davis from the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police. I was given your number to contact. We’re outside of Ms. Strickland’s home. There’s a dog barking inside, but no one has come to the door.”
Danny gave the officer the garage door code along with the house alarm code. “Bella never locks the door from the garage to the house.” Even though he’d lectured her on locking every door. “If she did, break it down if you have to.”
His gate was up ahead, the last passengers filing past the attendant scanning tickets. “Her phone’s in the house. The dog’s name is Trip. He won’t hurt you.”
The loudspeaker announced his flight. “This is the last call for Flight 739 to Charlotte. All passengers should report to gate A22 for immediate departure.”
Danny skidded up to the gate. He swiped his phone to pull up his ticket.
The gate attendant gave him a baleful stare over her glasses. “You just made it.”
He strode down the jetway, returning to the conversation with the officer outside Bella’s home. “I’m boarding a flight to Charlotte now. Keep me informed.”
Taking his seat, he closed his eyes and shut out the flight attendant’s mandatory pre-flight instructions he’d heard hundreds of times.
The plane backed out of the gate and taxied to the runway.
He replayed every interaction with Talia in his head.
She’d considered him a threat from the beginning, sowing doubts about his intentions in Bella’s ears.
And he hadn’t fought back because he’d agreed with her.
Someone had accessed Bella’s home. Let Trip escape. Not taken anything.
The note on Bella’s car.
Talia had been out of town for that one.
He frowned. Or had she? She’d flown out that day, according to Bella.
AegisShield wasn’t far from the airport. Talia could have swung by, left the note on Bella’s car, and then hopped on a plane.
Engines revved. The plane rolled down the runway, picking up speed until the nose lifted and the wheels left the ground.
Omar could have engineered the confrontation at Providence Bank with Talia’s help.
And tampered with Consuela’s brakes.
Damn it. Talia had gotten him a parking pass for the garage that day. She knew what his car looked like.
All the signs.
And he’d ignored every one of them.
He rubbed at the headache forming at his temples.
What the hell kind of game was she playing?
And where did her brother fit in?
Danny straightened in his seat. The homicide detective said that Hassan had been given a cardiotoxin delivered through a puncture to his chest.
Sweat broke out on his forehead.
The night of the gala, Talia put her hands on Hassan’s chest and shoved him away from Bella.
Was it possible?
Maybe Hassan hadn’t been stalking Bella.
Maybe he’d been trying to warn her.
His pulse lurched.
If Talia had killed her own brother, Bella didn’t stand a chance.