“What did she say?” Logan demanded again. Juliana stood behind Gunner in the doorway. Her gaze was watchful. Wary.
“We talked about McLintock. I told her what happened—”
“She got scared,” Juliana broke in. “She must have run because she was afraid she’d be targeted, too.”
Maybe.
But he doubted it. There were plenty of reasons for people to run.
He yanked out his phone and had Syd on the line in an instant. “Susan Walker is gone,” he said. “We need to start searching the area for her, now.” The bright sunlight hit him when he stepped outside and began to sweep the lot.
“Her car’s gone,” Gunner said from beside him. The man’s voice was tight with anger.
The vehicle sure as hell was gone. Gunner had driven Susan’s vehicle to the press conference, but it looked like the lady had reclaimed her ride. “Get the cops to put out an APB on her,” Logan said. He wanted to talk to Susan, yesterday.
He glanced to the left and saw Juliana staring at him with her brows up. “It’s for her protection,” he said, the words half-true.
Half lie.
Susan was a dangerous woman—she knew the truth about him, and he was willing to bet she knew plenty of secrets about the senator.
If Guerrero got ahold of her, the man would make her spill those secrets, just like he’d done with McLintock.
* * *
SUSAN NEVER EVEN saw the man approaching. She was fumbling with her keys, trying to rush back inside her old apartment—good thing I kept the lease—when hard arms wrapped around her.
“Someone wants to see you.” She felt the blade bite into her waist.
A whimper rose in her throat. No, this couldn’t be happening. She had planned too well.
But then the guy yanked her away from the apartment. There were no neighbors to see her.
He shoved her into the trunk of a black car. She tried to scream for help, but there was no help. The car sped away quickly, knocking her around in the trunk, sending her rolling back and forth.
Susan shoved and kicked at the trunk. Her breath rasped out. It was so dark. Only one faint beam of light trickled into the trunk. Without that light, it would be as if she was in a tomb.
Buried alive.
Susan screamed as loud as she could. The car kept going.
“Help me! Help me! Somebody, please!” She’d hated the dark for years. Ever since her mother had gone away.
Susan had been six. Her mother had just...put her in the closet. “Be a good girl. Mommy has to leave for a while. And you...you have to be quiet until I get back.”
She’d put her in the closet, then never come back. Just...put me in the closet.
“Help!”
Her mother had been an addict. A whore. Social services had finally come to find Susan...because her mother had overdosed. They’d taken her out of that closet.
“Get me out!” Susan screamed as she kicked toward the back of the car.
She’d promised herself never to go back into the dark again. She’d fought for a better life. Clawed her way to that promise of wealth and privilege.
She couldn’t go out like this. Not in a trunk. Not cut up with a knife, like McLintock.
She should have more.