“You can’t blame yourself,” Constance said.
“Of course not,” Serena added.
“He’s to blame, not you,” Zane added, hugging me.
Lucas shifted to look at me. “We have to assume he’s followed or tracked you and could know you’re staying here.”
That didn’t make me feel safe.
As if sensing my discomfort, Zane rubbed my back again. “Don’t worry.”
I knew he meant to help, but I still reached for the wine and filled my glass again. That would help as well.
“You know, he may have trashed her door to force a move,” Winston suggested. “A multi-unit building adds variables.”
“Jordy, you and Winston carpet this place and all the approaches with cameras.”
As I listened to them talk about tasks and guess about my pursuer’s strategy, I finally relaxed somewhat. I had the pride behind me now. I was no longer alone in this.
CHAPTER 23
Zane
With our debriefing concluded,I now sat with Peyton in my small home office, awaiting Lucas for the call to Boston.
She clutched my hand. “Do you think this will help? It didn’t before.” Her grip on me tightened.
Looking into her eyes, I gave her the truth I knew she was strong enough for. “I don’t know. I’m guessing they know more about this guy than we do. Any extra piece of information increases our chances of catching him quickly.” I hoped calling himthe guymade him sound less scary thantheBoyfriend Strangler.
Lucas joined us and closed the door. “We’ll keep your current name secret and only use your real name, okay?” he told Peyton.
She nodded and sipped from yet another glass of wine.
He dialed the number Jordy had gotten for Sergeant O’Connor in the Boston PD homicide unit.
It took several rings for O’Connor to answer. “Hello?”
“Sergeant O’Connor,” Lucas began. “This is Lucas Hawk with Hawk Security in California.”
“I don’t need any more help from you private-dick assholes. At least the other guys have the decency to call during work hours. I’ll be at the office by eight tomorrow. Call me before then, and you’ll regret it.” The line went dead before Lucas could respond.
“Pleasant fellow,” I said.
“I didn’t want to have to do this,” Lucas said while he scrolled through his contacts and selected one. He put it on speaker again, but put a finger to his lips.
“Hey, Lucas, you old dog, how are you doin’?” said the person who answered.
“Good, Senator, sorry to be calling this late.”
I flinched, and Peyton’s eyes widened. Lucas had called a frigging senator.
“Glad that Syria extraction worked out the way it did,” the senator noted. “How is our boy doing?”
They had to be talking about Pete.
Lucas rubbed his hands together, the first sign of worry I’d ever seen on him. “As well as can be expected at this point. He’s tough. He’ll get through it.”
“Good to hear. Maggie is always bugging me to ask when she can send you a pie.”
