Somebody to Hold (Tyler Jamison #2) - April Wilson Page 0,65

cash and sticks the wad of money in his front trouser pocket. “Fine,” he grumbles.

He sits down at the video console and scrubs back through the day’s footage to the requested time mark. “You better not be here when I get back,” he says as he rises. Without another word, he walks out, leaving us alone.

Tyler sits at the console and quickly scans the footage as I watch over his shoulder.

“There!” I say, pointing at the screen as Layla’s Fiat enters the picture.

We follow the path of her car as it pulls into a parking spot next to a black sedan.

“That’s a Mercedes,” Tyler says as he retrieves his notebook and pen. Then he zooms in on the vehicle’s license plate and jots down the number.

I stare in horror at the grainy footage as a man in his mid-thirties drags Layla out of the backseat of the Fiat. If it weren’t for the guy holding her up, she would have collapsed on the pavement. “Jesus, look at her. Is she drugged?”

“Most likely,” Tyler says.

We watch the rest of the interaction between the two men as they argue, both of them gesturing wildly. As Loretta said, after Johnson puts Layla in the backseat of his car, Chad gets in the front passenger seat and they drive off.

Just as Tyler had promised, we’re gone from the security office before the guard returns.

“Now what?” I ask as we hurry back to Tyler’s car.

“We need to find Larry Johnson. I suspect Chad’s just a middleman. Johnson will lead us to Layla.”

Tyler pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Jud, I need you to run a plate for me.” He listens to the captain’s reply. “I know that,” Tyler replies tersely. “The plate, Jud. Please. I’m asking you to do this for me as a personal favor. I need the address.” Another pause. “I understand that.”

Tyler ends the call, and we sit.

“What was that about?” I ask. There was something in the tone of his voice that concerns me.

Tyler shakes his head dismissively. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

My stomach knots as I realize Tyler’s hiding something from me.

His phone rings, and Tyler takes the call. “Yes?” He jots something down in his notebook. “Thanks, Jud.” And then he ends the call and starts the engine.

“You got his address?” I ask.

“Yes.”

We drive north to an affluent section of Lincoln Park. Tyler drives slowly down a residential street, past one gated residence after another. He slows to a crawl as we pass a stately, red-brick two-story. Through the open wrought-iron gate, we spot a black Mercedes parked in the open garage.

It’s quite a domestic scene. Three teenage boys are shooting hoops in the driveway, while a woman waters flowerboxes on the front porch.

Tyler keeps driving and parks a couple of houses away. “Looks like Larry Johnson does all right for himself,” he says as he shuts off the engine. “Now we wait.”

I reach for my door handle. “I’m going over there. Layla might be—”

Tyler grabs my hand. “She’s not here, Ian. Not at the guy’s house. He must have taken her somewhere else. We just have to wait for him to show us where.”

“I can’t just sit here—”

“Yes, you can. The last thing we want to do is tip him off. We have to watch and wait. He’ll take us to her.”

That is, if she’s still alive, I think. But I don’t dare voice my fears.

Chapter 24

Tyler Jamison

Ian’s a nervous wreck, about ready to jump out of his skin, and I can’t say I blame him. His mind is working overtime imagining all the horrible things that could be happening to Layla. I don’t let myself think about it. I can’t. I have a sister, too. So I shut that part of my brain off and focus on what needs to be done.

As darkness falls, my pulse rate picks up. I’m counting on Johnson to lead us to Layla, but I could be wrong. It’s possible she’s dead and he’s already disposed of her body. But I can’t allow myself to think that way. He’s going to take us to her. If he doesn’t, the chances of us finding her alive will dwindle quickly. And finding her any other way just isn’t an option.

At nine-thirty, the Mercedes pulls out of the driveway and turns right.

“There!” Ian says, pointing. “He’s leaving.”

“I see him.” As soon as the Mercedes is out of sight, I make a U-turn and follow. I just hope it’s Johnson behind the