"Information on Whitney Holden."
"She really bothered you."
"She bothered you, too."
"She did," he admitted. "But she could have just been shaken up by her close call with death. It's not surprising she wasn't thinking clearly."
"Look at you, giving her the benefit of the doubt," she said dryly.
He smiled. "I try not to see anyone as just one thing, because no one ever is."
"No, they're not," she murmured as her gaze scanned Whitney's profile. "This is interesting. Whitney is into fitness. She goes to the gym three to four times a week and has a personal trainer named Giannis, who works at…" She looked over the top of her computer. "Wanna guess?"
"Forge Fitness."
"You win. Whitney also goes to the gym where Samantha went, where Jonas Cray was seen, and where Elias Costa lied to us about knowing Jonas. I need to talk to her now."
"Now?" he echoed, glancing down at his watch. "It's after nine."
"I don't care. It can't wait until tomorrow. She could run." As she finished speaking, she opened the email Wes had sent her earlier, which contained Whitney's personal information, including her phone number and address. "She lives in Brooklyn. I'm going to see if I can catch her at home, maybe before she has time to call her lawyer."
"She probably already did that," he said, getting up along with her. "I'll go. You might need backup."
"I can call Tyler to meet me there."
"Or I can just go with you. I will have your back, Kara."
She didn't believe everything he said, but she believed that. And she didn't want to waste time trying to reach Tyler, who'd already told her he was meeting a friend. "Let's go."
"I'll drive," he said. "You can keep digging into Whitney on the way, just in case we don't find her at home. We need to know who her friends and family are, and who might take her in if she were in trouble."
She nodded, grabbing her jacket as she followed him out the door.
On the drive to Brooklyn, she researched Whitney. "She lives her life online," she told Max as he sped through the dark city streets. "She's thirty-five years old and single now after her last boyfriend cheated on her. She loves working out, nutrition, manifesting, and poker."
"That's quite a combination," Max muttered. "Maybe she played poker with Costa."
"I don't think she's a high roller, but she's a pretty, single woman. They might have wanted her in the game." Her gaze moved down the page. "Turns out the cheating boyfriend made a living online playing poker, so she probably learned a lot from him."
"Wonder if she's racked up some debt."
"And maybe needed a quick payout," she said, following his train of thought. "She doesn't seem violent or dangerous or ideologically anything. But she seems to like attention, and her social media pages are full of rants about being used or taken for granted. I both can and can't believe she puts all this online for anyone to read."
"It wouldn't be difficult to manipulate her after hearing what you just told me."
"No, it wouldn't," she agreed. "Maybe that will help us get her to open up."
"We're almost there," he said, checking the GPS.
She straightened in her seat, scanning the addresses. "That's it."
As Max pulled up in front of a duplex and turned off the lights, she saw a woman come out of the front door carrying a suitcase. She was on her phone and didn't notice them at all as she headed to the car parked in front of the garage. She opened her trunk and struggled with the phone in one hand and what appeared to be a heavy suitcase in the other.
"She's running," she said, her hand on the door. She sprang out of the car, with Max right behind her. They were at the car before Whitney realized they were there. She squealed in alarm as she dropped her phone.
"Oh my God, you scared me," she said, reaching down to pick up her phone.
The screen was dark. Whoever had been on the call with her was gone. "Where are you going, Whitney?" she asked.
