Page 139 of Paranoid

“Nate seems to lose his balance, the other guy catching him.”

“Or forcing him into the car. Could have a weapon.”

“The lost hour.” She replayed the tape on slow mo. Moretti was recognizable. The other guy, not so much. He was about the same size, slim enough, but his face was in shadow, hidden within the hood of his sweatshirt and the baseball cap.

“So what happened? If Moretti was supposed to meet Annessa Cooper, why’s he with this guy? Did they kill her together? Is Moretti a victim? And who the hell is this guy?”

Voss frowned and squinted at the screen. “Don’t know.”

“Yet,” Cade said. “We’ll find him.”

“Yeah, but will we find him alive, or strung up like his girlfriend?”

Cade didn’t want to think too hard about the options.

CHAPTER 32

Sweat dripping from the tip of her nose, Kayleigh pushed harder, riding the stationary bike in the gym, pushing her way through a preprogrammed routine of hills and valleys, her legs beginning to ache after spending time working through a kickboxing drill and weight training before ending up here in a long row of bikes going nowhere. She should have swum laps, she thought, as she’d been a swimmer in college and always enjoyed the feel of cutting through the water, breathing regularly, away from all the worries of the world.

But not today.

Somehow the workout seemed to mimic her life: spinning her wheels and getting nowhere.

She was listening to Axl Rose screaming near the end of “Sweet Child O’ Mine” when her phone cut in and she saw Cade’s number flash onto the screen. Her stupid heart leapt and she silently cursed herself as she answered.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, breathing hard, the pounding beat of Guns N’ Roses suddenly silenced.

“Thought I’d pull you in.”

“On what?”

“Nate Moretti’s missing. He’s—”

“Annessa Cooper, your victim’s lover, yeah, I know.”

“He’s missing. At least we think so.” Then he explained about Nate Moretti calling in sick and not being at home, not answering his phone.

“You think he’s running?”

“Possibly.”

“Or ended up a victim, too. In the wrong

place at the wrong time.”

“Again, possibly. I’m on my way to the station. To interview the father. He was also connected to the Luke Hollander homicide.”

She made a deprecating noise. “You still trying to link the two? Connecting nonexistent dots?”

“More like filling in very existent blanks.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there.” She clicked off and stopped pedaling, and caught a disparaging glance from a toned forty-year-old guy on a nearby bike. Oh, get over your bad self, she thought, as she swiped her face with the towel draped around her neck.

So cell phones were off limits in the gym, so what? Ignoring the pinched-faced woman in her perfectly matched workout wear, Kayleigh half jogged to the showers, where she stripped, stepped under the hot spray, turned the temperature to cold, then turned off the water. Seconds later she’d toweled off. She was dressed and out of the gym in less than five minutes from the time Cade’s call had come in. No makeup, wet hair starting to curl despite being swept back in a quick ponytail.

Good enough.

On her way to Edgewater, she thought about Nate Moretti being MIA.