Page 98 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

“What about the cameras covering other exits and the area around the warehouse?” Rochelle asked. “Have you been through those yet?”

Evan flushed. “No, just the front door and the corridor. I’ll check the rest now.” He hesitated. “But she wouldn’t go outside, would she?”

“Not willingly.” Noah got to his feet while fighting to keep his heart rate under control. “The mole,” he muttered, trying to think when his head was filled with screaming. “Somebody in the building this morning has to be the mole. Maybe they sneaked someone in?—”

“Not possible.” Violet folded her arms. “I was on guard duty.”

“There are other entrances, Violet,” Rochelle pointed out.

“Annabelle didn’t leave that room.” Violet was adamant. “I would have noticed.”

“She’s right!” Noah was already running, very much afraid that he knew exactly what had happened.

Everyone followed close behind him, filling the corridor as he threw open the door to the small office near the stairwell.

He pointed at the equipment spread over the desk and credenza. “Evan, is this the high-tech security stuff you were supposed to hack?”

Evan looked bewildered. “Some of it.”

Noah locked his knees to keep from falling. “The cases. There was a big black plastic case on wheels. They brought in the equipment using it, and Johnson helped carry it back down the stairs. But if the equipment’s still here, why did the tech need help to carry the case?” He focused on Evan. “Was that case big enough to stash Annabelle?”

He paled. “I think so. She’s kinda small.”

Noah clenched his hands into fists, desperately wanting to punch a hole through the nearest wall. He faced his team. “The tech was in on it. Maybe Johnson too. We need to get that case before he takes her to Hanson.”

Nobody argued with him or told him he’d lost his mind. There just wasn’t another logical explanation.

“Evan,” Rochelle snapped. “Go over all the camera footage, see if you can get a license plate for the tech’s vehicle and a direction for us to head in.”

“I could, um, access the local traffic cameras if need be,” he offered. “But, em, I’m already on probation for hacking. I’m not supposed to…”

“Do it,” Rochelle ordered without hesitation. “If there’s fallout, I’ll deal with it. You won’t get into trouble for this. I promise. The rest of us will follow the tech van. We’ll pair up—Abasi and Harris, Logan and Rodrigo, Katrina and Violet. Noah comes with me. When you have a specific location, Evan, notify the team. In the meantime, what are we looking for?”

It was Noah who replied. “A small white van. It has discreet signage on the side, identifying it as the property of the DA’soffice. That’s about it. The guy driving it’s in his twenties, medium everything, and wearing black.” He wouldn’t forget the sight of that van and its driver as long as he lived.

“I’ll send a number plate as soon as I get it,” Evan said. “Everybody, remember radios and earpieces. It makes it easier to talk to all of you at the same time.”

“We’ve got them here,” Harris said from the corridor. “Pick them up as you pass.”

Rodrigo and Abasi came to stand with Rochelle and Noah as the others equipped themselves with comms and weapons.

“Why take her?” Noah asked, a massive weight pressing against his chest. “Why not kill her here?”

“My guess,” Rochelle said, “is that leaving a dead body in the office would narrow the mole suspect list right down. Our traitor’s hoping to escape unscathed.”

Noah’s hands shook. Adrenaline. Fear. Take your pick. Harris came over and handed them their comms gear.

“We’ll get her.” He patted Noah on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back, Noah.”

Violet called from the doorway, “Boss, what do you want us to do if we see the vehicle? Or Hanson? Detain, disable, death?”

For a second, Rochelle appeared shocked that Violet had even asked. “No killing unless Annabelle’s life is on the line. Everything else is on the table. Let’s get our client back.”

With a somber murmur of agreement, they hurried downstairs. As Noah climbed into Rochelle’s large black SUV, his radio crackled.

“I have a direction,” Evan said. “The van’s heading northeast. I’ll access the traffic cams and be in touch when I know something more.”

They screeched away from the curb, Rochelle behind the wheel. The other team vehicles slid into place behind them.