Wyatt hit two more buttons and then handed the phone to Webster, who pushed a few buttons, and then everybody turned to the screen as it went blank.
“Look for any identifiers. Anything with a name. If there’s an open window, look for buildings with any kind of decorative detailing that might help us pinpoint his location. No matter how small.”
Charlie sucked in a breath as Day’s image came into focus. Robby and Elijah gathered close to her and Wyatt, like they could insulate them from the image before them.
Jackson was torn between relief and anguish as Day appeared on the big screen. He wore a lace lingerie set, something white and frilly. His face was made up heavier than usual, his lips overly lined, his lashes clearly fake, but the fear in his eyes seemed in direct conflict with the coquettish way he sat, feet tucked beneath him, leaning on his hand, staring at somebody just off camera.
“He looks so scared,” Robby whispered.
“He looks like a survivor,” Elijah countered. “He’s playing a part. Look at his body language. He’s trying to appease the man.”
“The room’s filthy,” Robby said, louder this time. “Like, not just dirty… Look at the walls behind the bed. Those are water stains. There aren’t any sheets on the bed, either. You can see the bare mattress under the blanket he’s sitting on. Who lives like that?”
“That’s not a house. That’s a hotel room,” Charlie said.
“She’s right,” Elijah agreed. “Look at the way the light attaches directly to the side table.”
“If that’s a hotel, it’s abandoned.”
Jackson’s heartbeat galloped. “It’s a motel. Day lived in a motel when he was a teenager. The guy there used to…” He swallowed. “He used to molest him as some kind of payment. Fuck. I should have known. How did I fucking miss that?”
“Oh, my God,” Charlie gasped. “Poor Day.”
“Webster, find that address. Now,” Jackson growled.
Webster’s fingers were flying over the keys. “I’m looking. I’m looking. Day doesn’t seem to have even popped up on the grid until he was eighteen, and the only address I have is the one he fucking lives at now. I’m not giving up.”
Day had said he had to work under a fake name until he turned eighteen because he wasn’t old enough to cam. Why hadn’t Jackson asked more questions? What had his name been? What was this Carl piece of shit’s last name? What was the motel he’d lived in? God dammit. He’d never even asked Sarah’s last name.
Sarah. Could she be who Day was trying to spell? Jackson’s organs twisted at the thought of Day trying to type out a message, knowing how he struggled with reading and spelling, knowing that he used his precious minutes to try to get a message to Jackson and not the police. It had to be something important. A clue. Maybe it was a misspelling or maybe not. He had to try every possible lead. Even if it was just a hail Mary at this point.
“Calder, get online and look for any hotels or motels that start with Ser in sketchy neighborhoods. Webster, I need you to do something illegal.”
“Shoot,” Webster said without hesitation.
“I need you to find the records of a transplant patient who died in LA from an infection somewhere around 2016.”
Webster gaped at him. “I’m gonna need more info than that.”
“Her name was Sarah. She had a double lung transplant, and she died in an LA hospital due to a fungal infection caused by that fucking hotel room right there. If we can find her records, we can find that fucking hotel.”
Webster looked to Linc and then Jackson. “Boss, I want to help, but I don’t think even I can do that.”
“You might not have to,” Calder said. “There are only four hotels that start with Ser and only one of them is here in LA. The Serendipity Motor Lodge. It was closed by the county health inspector after a girl died from an infection caused by black mold.”
“That has to be it,” Shepherd said. “That’s no fucking coincidence.”
“Does it say anything about the owner?”
Calder swung the laptop around. No, but it shows the manager. Carl Frankel.”
Jackson’s blood ignited as he stared at a picture of the man from the still footage of the hotel. That was him. The man who had Day. The man who’d abused Day for years. Jackson was going to make sure he didn’t have the ability to so much as write his own name when he was done with him.
“Shepherd, you and Linc are with me. Calder, patch us into the conference room and turn the sound up so I can hear what’s happening in real time. Webster, call Jimmy. Give him this guy’s name and stats, and tell him to get as many units as he can to that motel, right now.”
Jackson gave one last look at the screen and at Day’s wide pool blue eyes.Hang on, baby. I’m coming. Just hang on.
“Can I ask you a question?” Day blurted as Carl attempted to join him on the soiled mattress.
