“Have we been searching the street traffic?”
“Sure,” Liam said. “Time-coordinated footage of Laurel Canyon and Ventura. No sign of a car with a plate sporting those initial letters.”
Dammit. It made no sense. “Okay. Keep at it. Maybe a shadow. Or blocked by another car. Maybe it turned —”
He cut himself off, tilting his head to one side as he tried to will the idea to manifest. It was right there—and it was brilliant, if he did say so himself.
“The parking lot,” he said. “What if it was always in the parking lot?”
“I’m not following.”
“We’ve been assuming the captor’s car turned in off of Laurel. But what if it actually came from the opposite end of the parking lot, way down at the end?”
In a land of parallel street parking, this free parking lot located behind the grocery store and the various shared-wall retailers that lined Ventura Boulevard was an oasis. One section was dedicated to the Von’s, but the rest was for the retailers.
And there were a shit ton of parking spaces back there.
Trevor could picture what had happened, and he laid it out for Liam. The perp had parked in the lot and waited. Then he’d driven through the lot toward Laurel Canyon, made a U-turn in the lot rather than turning onto the street, then eased in the opposite direction, heading back in the direction he’d come from—and also toward Courtney.
From the camera’s perspective, though, it appeared that he’d entered the lot from the Laurel Canyon entrance only moments before Courtney was abducted.
“Smart son-of-a-bitch,” Trevor said.
“We haven’t proved it yet,” Liam pointed out.
“We will.” He gave his friend’s back a friendly pat. “Pull video from the far end of the parking lot. Find me when you have it.”
“You got it,” Liam said, as Trevor moved on to check in with the rest of his people, all of whom were working their tails off to find Courtney. It was a good team, made up of some of the top-notch operatives in the country. They were smart, well-trained, and tireless.
And they still had next to nothing.
With a sigh, Trevor rubbed his temples. Soon, he thought. Something would break soon.
In the meantime, he’d go find Ollie and give him an update, especially on the license plate and his parking lot theory. With any luck, they’d have registration information within the hour.
Since Ollie wasn’t downstairs with the team, he assumed he was on the third floor snagging a latte, but he wasn’t there, either.
Trevor was about to shoot him a text when Damien stepped out of the owner’s suite in a suit that probably cost more than Trevor’s car, his phone in his hand as he presumably scrolled through the day’s schedule.
He glanced up, saw Trevor, and slipped the phone into his jacket pocket. “Where are we today?”
“Slow progress, but we may have some news soon. A new angle on the partial plate.”
“Good.” He sighed with a small shake of his head. “Ollie must be out of his mind. I’ve been there. That feeling of helplessness?” His dual-colored eyes seemed to blaze. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
Trevor nodded, remembering how gutted Damien had been when Anne had been taken, then again when Nikki disappeared. “I know. And, yeah, it’s eating at him.” He glanced around the third floor. “I actually came up here to find him, but I haven’t seen him anywhere. You?”
“The gym,” Damien said. “I think he wanted to burn off some steam.”
“Makes sense. First floor, right?”
“Right. Just past the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” Trevor said, glancing sideways to the only kitchen he was familiar with. But he continued on down to the first floor, albeit a bit confused. Then he remembered that Ollie once told him the house had been built with a huge, commercial quality kitchen that was supposed to be the primary cooking area, with the third floor being used only when entertaining.
Another example of something not turning out the way you expected—but still ending up for the better.
Because, yeah, when he’d first met Ollie, he’d only expected they’d be friends. Why pine for more when the guy wasn’t into men? But then things shifted. And in the most satisfying of ways.
Now, Ollie was his.
At least, he hoped he was.
He frowned. That damned niggle of doubt kept popping up no matter how much he told himself that he was channeling Greg. And Greg, frankly, didn’t even deserve to be in Trevor’s head.
He found Ollie in a gym that was bigger and better equipped than the gym Trevor belonged to near his condo. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Damien could afford to fill the massive room with the best, and considering his first career as a professional athlete, it made sense he’d want to stay in shape.
Ollie was on the far side of the room, sitting on a bench in front of a glass wall that looked out over the Malibu hills and the distant beach. His back was to the room, so Trevor couldn’t see what he was doing, but he seemed to be looking at something. Probably his phone.
Trevor took a step toward him, then another and another, with each step expecting Ollie to notice him. To turn around. To smile.
But Ollie just sat, and after one more step, Trevor saw why. Courtney.
Ollie’s tablet was in his lap, and even from where he stood, Trevor could see her image. A candid shot in a park. She was bending over to pluck a daisy, and someone—presumably Ollie—had caught the image of her as she turned to face the camera.
It was a sweet image full of innocence and laughter. There was love there, too. He could see it in her eyes. In the framing of the photo. In the photo’s very existence.
And he could see it in the way Ollie’s fingers softly stroked the image. Even without seeing Ollie’s face, there was no discounting the depth of his emotion. And while Trevor would move heaven and earth to get Courtney back, right then the jealousy that ripped through him was almost debilitating.
Get a grip, Barone.
He must have made a sound, because Ollie stiffened, locked the tablet screen, then turned. For a moment, his expression was entirely blank, and that emptiness felt like blackness inside Trevor. Then he smiled, wide and genuine even if it was a little sad. Ollie held out his hand, and Trevor moved to take it, more relieved than he ought to be. But that was just a testament to how hard he’d fallen.
“I woke up alone,” he said, proud of how the words sounded detached and reasonable.
“Sorry about that.” Ollie’s expression seemed almost embarrassed. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want wake you.”
Trevor took another step closer. “You okay?” He nodded at the tablet. “Squeezing in some work?”
“Just, you know, reading.” He tugged his hand free. “Clearing my mind.”
“Right.” Trevor had to force the word out. “That makes sense.” Fuck it. “I was just tracking you down to give you an update.”
“You’ve learned something?”
“Getting closer.” He explained his assumption that the car had been in the parking lot the entire time. “If I’m right, we may have the full plate number soon.”
Ollie’s relief was palpable as tension seemed to retreat from his whole body. “That’s something. Tug on that string, and surely it will loosen more threads.”