Tate, Miranda and I crammed into the security office, along with the security officer. The small room had television screens lining one wall, showing real-time activities across many areas and floors within the hotel.
Our sole focus, however, was on the computer that stored the footage from the last seven days.
“Saturday night,” Tate said. “Between the hours of zero-one-hundred and zero-six-hundred.”
“Alrighty.” The security officer scrolled through lists of saved footage until he located the files we needed. “They’re saved in twelve-hour blocks, so this should be the one we’re after.”
Under Miranda’s watchful eye, he played the footage from the hotel’s main entrance. The time lapse showed nothing until just after zero-two-thirty hours on Sunday morning.
A man and woman entered the foyer with two suitcases in tow, and even at time lapse speed, it was beyond reasonable doubt the woman was Penelope.
“Yes, stop! That’s them,” I exclaimed as Tate boomed, “Pause here.”
“Can we slow down the footage?” My pulse hammered so hard it was near impossible to focus.
“We can.”
The security guy made a series of clicks, and the footage started playing at “real-time” speed.
Tate shot me a confused glance. “She looks willing. Like theyintendedto meet here.”
I frowned and studied the footage closer, not at all happy with what I saw.
Penelope sauntered in, barefoot, on the arm of the middle-aged man, looking completely sober and happy as he checked them in at reception.
“It doesn’t make sense. Everything besides this indicates she was taken against her will.”
Tate held my eyes, reading my thoughts about it not adding up.
He nodded and pointed to the screen. “Can we get this guy’s booking information?”
We turned our attention to Miranda, who twisted her lips in thought. “Maybe. We might be able to match the check-in time with the booking. Give me a moment.”
She disappeared on determined strides.
“Can we look through the other footage from the same night?” I asked.
It was a long shot, but one that might pay off.
The security officer twisted in his seat and shook his head. “There are seventeen cameras in total, so I’d wait to see if Miranda can give you the room number. It will save you searching through hours of footage.”
I grunted while eyeing the paused image of Penny smiling at the man we were searching for. My pride stung. I was a fucking hypocrite for feeling angered with her going home with some random guy. After having her in my bed, it was a bitter pill to swallow when flaunted in my face.
Tate shoved at my shoulder. “Quit the growling, Manbait.”
Clearing my throat, I straightened and folded my arms across my chest to stop them from fidgeting.
As soon Miranda came back with triumph on her face, I crowded her space. “You got it, didn’t you?”
“Yep.” Her smile pulled wide as she held up a piece of paper. “Room five-oh-nine.”
Relief coursed through me. “Oh, thank fuck. Thank you!”
I plucked the paper from her fingers and pushed from the room, Tate hot on my heels.
“I need to let Jackson know. He’ll want to send a few more guys across, just in case.”
Frustration rose and I fought it off by taking a large inhale. “There’s no time to wait, Tate. We have to get up therenow.”