“I think that’s it,” he said. “Any license plate or identifying marks on the car or the perp?”
“No,” I murmured. “Other than this scratch right here.”
I showed it to him.
“Post that in the local social media groups. See if anyone can identify that car. Say it’s in suspicion of being part of the abduction of a three-year-old,” he ordered.
I did as he asked, set an alert for it to notify me if anything relevant was said, then went back to the camera feeds.
I started going through all the possible routes taken to that particular spot and finally hit pay dirt on the frozen yogurt store’s parking lot. A black sedan had entered through their parking lot.
Zooming in on the driver’s face and their license plate, I forwarded the partial shot to the police of Kilgore, then went back to the social media post where nothing relevant was shared. All except for one person.
A full description of the car was shared with a man’s first name.
I sent that to the police, too.
Then closed and exited out of everything because Kobe said we were ten minutes out.
When we arrived at Free, landing right in their backyard, I wasn’t surprised to see a whole slew of people there.
As in, there were so many I had no option but to count.
That was one of my quirks.
I liked to know how many people were in an area.
Large crowds drove me nuts because it was almost a compulsion to count.
That was why I carried a damn clicker around with me to help me do so.
All in all, as we descended, I counted eighty-seven people there.
And none of them were cops.
CHAPTER 3
I have one nerve left, and you’re dry-humping it.
-Kobe to Folsom
KOBE
I loved watching her in action.
Her genius-level IQ may irritate—and scare—the hell out of me, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t the most interesting person to watch while she worked.
From what I understood from what Folsom had told me, as well as what was shared by the other ladies of the MC, Folsom had quite a few degrees.
Her latest one was in veterinary science.
The one degree she didn’t have but probably had the most experience in was hacking-related or computer science.
I hadn’t been able to find anything on her previous life, either when I’d done a thorough background search on her.
She was like a ghost in the world and ended up looking rather innocuous when I took some significant time looking into her.
When I got out of prison, I didn’t run into Folsom until after about six months of being out.
From there, when I was working cases, I started getting anonymous tips that would help me solve a case or give me that little clue that I needed to make pieces in my case click into place.
Eventually, her best friend Morrigan started dating one of my club members, and finally, my anonymous case helper was brought to light.
That’s when I realized that Folsom knew a hell of a lot more about me than she probably should.
As in, there was no way in hell she knew all the stuff she did about me by getting that information from the rest of the MC and their wives. I just wasn’t that sharing of a person.
Eventually, I realized that Folsom had no sense of decency and couldn’t care less whose life she invaded. Once I realized that, it became a lot easier to deal with her invasion. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and helped me solve cases. Some of which I didn’t even need help with.
“What are you doing?”
I looked over to find Sam staring at me, lost in thought.
“Thinking,” I admitted. “Looking at her work.”
“She’s the one?” Sam asked.
Despite his overt worry for his granddaughter, he was still a great person. Caring and interested in the people he thought of as his.
“I’m…” I hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
He rolled his eyes. “The fact that you have to convince yourself of it and that you hesitated to answer means that you’re likely confused. And you wouldn’t be confused if she didn’t mean something to you.”
He had a point.
“Aha!” I heard our person of interest crow. “Look at this.”
Bayou, the child’s father, came over from where he was comforting his wife, Phoebe. Phoebe had two other kids stuck to her sides, so she chose not to come over. But we held every single bit of her attention.
Sam and I walked over, arriving at the same time as Bayou.
We all looked over Folsom’s shoulder.
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
“This is the inside camera of the car he’s driving,” she explained. “The car they’re in is a Grand Wagoneer. It has one of those kid cams where you can see the back seat. Like a dome-like view, give or take.”
She pointed at a blob in the back seat.
Bayou and Phoebe’s youngest son, the one that was stolen, lay in a pile of blankets.
He was three, so old enough not to suffocate where he was, face down.
“Is he breathing?” Sam asked, sounding horrified.
“Yeah, look.” She pointed. “This was a few seconds ago. He turned his face to the other side.”
I watched him do just that.
“Where are they?” I asked.
I’d done the legwork to get us to this point. I’d found a few police reports of abandoned cars and pinpointed where he’d started and left based on cars reported missing in the area.
Eventually, it’d led us to a brand-new car being stolen out of a mother’s driveway.
A mom car.
A Jeep Grand Wagoneer.
From there, Folsom had done her magic and not only tapped into the OnStar on the vehicle but had also tapped into their camera system.
“I can shut it off,” she said. “Take over control of the car completely using the onboard computer. But my worry would be he’d just steal another one that I couldn’t control like this.”
“We need to be in place when you do it,” I said, looking at Sam.
Sam nodded.
“Where is this car located?” I asked.
It’d been a little over fourteen hours since the abduction.
They could be anywhere at this point.
“Utah,” she answered. “Park City, to be exact. A tourist town. Look at all the snow on the road.”
My belly hitched.
Snow meant difficulty flying.
“What’s the weather like there?” I asked, looking at my watch as if that would give me all the answers I needed.
“Sunny and high of fifty. For the next three days,” she answered, almost reading my thoughts. “You can fly there easily. I can keep an eye on his whereabouts as we move.”
I gestured to Sam. “Let’s get the helo fueled up, then we can go. I can carry four people total.”
Sam looked at his watch. “I have the fuel. We keep it on hand for other landings from family.”
Ten minutes later, I was doing my preflight checklist while Sam was fueling us up.
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the air and flying toward Utah.
“Gonna need a fuel up halfway,” I said as I flew. “Can you find us a place to land and do that, Folsom?”