Marla’s brown eyes latched onto the sheet Becca held, though she didn’t take it. “Yeah, I saw him. But I need money,” she said, eyes on the floor like maybe she wasn’t proud of the words. “I got kids, and this place don’t pay enough.” She shrugged her thin shoulders.
Becca dug into her purse and grabbed five twenties. Marla balled them in her fist. “My brother? When did you see him?”
Marla sniffed and lifted her gaze, working it back and forth between Becca and Nick. “He came on Sunday, like you said.” Becca leaned in as if she could will the words from the woman’s mouth. “On Monday morning, early . . . they took him off in a gray van.”
Becca’s heart tripped into a sprint. She knew the trail they’d been following probably ended in exactly this kind of story. Obviously, someone had taken Charlie against his will at some point, because he hadn’t cut off his own finger and left it at her house. But hearing it . . . she had no words.
“Who’s ‘they’?” Nick took over, wrapping his arm around Becca’s shoulders and pulling her in against him. Solid. Strong. Unwavering. She soaked him in and forced herself to calm down.
Marla played with a chain at her throat. “Bangers. Kind I left the city to get away from. Same types you see downtown selling heroin on street corners. Was three of ’em.”
“Any of them this man?” Nick said, slipping the paper from Becca’s tight grip and holding it up.
Marla shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I wasn’t trying to see them, either, if you know what I mean. Got a bad feeling the minute their van rolled into the lot. I was upstairs cleaning the room of an early checkout when I heard this loud bang. I peeked through the curtains, and sure enough the men from the van were breaking down a door. They put a hood over his head and dragged him out.”
“Did you call the police?” Becca managed, incredulous. How had something like this happened in broad daylight?
Marla looked at her like she had three heads. “I wasn’t risking narking on a gang for some addict with an unpaid debt.”
Becca’s jaw dropped. “Charlie’s not an addict.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Marla said, flipping the pendant of her necklace between her fingers.
“What made you think that?” Nick asked.
“Dark circles, bloodshot eyes, all disheveled looking and acting paranoid. Plus, he paid with cash when he checked in, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was here. Almost everyone uses plastic these days.”
Becca whirled to Nick. “He’s not a user. I promise you that. God, after Scott—” She shook her head. “There’s no way.”
“I believe you. All of that could easily be explained by him being on the run for so long.”
Relief flooded through Becca’s chest, making it easier to breathe. That he outright believed her—no debating, no questioning, no measuring—meant the world to her. She sagged against him.
“Well, believe what you want. That’s what I saw.” Marla dropped the necklace and crossed her arms. Becca frowned and stared at the oval pendant.
“One last question,” Nick said. Marla rolled her eyes but nodded. “Was there anything left in his room after they left?”
“No, they cleaned it out. Now ’scuse me, I have to get back.”
The pendant had an engraved cursive C in the middle of the silver. C, for Cathy. Becca’s mother. Becca frowned, her heart nearly stopping cold, and stepped in front of Marla. “That’s my mother’s locket.” Her gaze flashed to the woman’s, who wouldn’t meet it back. “That’s my mother’s locket,” she said again, half disbelieving what she was seeing.
Marla shrugged. “I found it.”
Nick moved in closer. “Where?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to us.” He pulled another hundred out of his wallet. “Please give the lady back her family heirloom.”
For a long moment, Becca thought Marla was going to fight them, but the power of the stack of twenties in Nick’s hand apparently convinced her. She unhooked the necklace and almost threw it at Becca. “Was on the floor in his room. I didn’t steal it. Now ’scuse me.” They stepped to the side, and she darted past them.
Before Becca even had the chance to start freaking out—which she was well on her way to doing—Nick cupped her face in his hands and tilted it up. He kissed her forehead. “Knowing the details doesn’t change anything about his situation. I know that wasn’t easy to hear, but she gave some things to go on. At worst, this was net neutral. Okay?”
Neutral. Right. Charlie being kidnapped, hooded, and dragged away in a van. “I’m trying,” she said, gripping her mom’s locket tight.
“You’re doing great, Becca. Don’t doubt it for a minute. Oh, but unless you want to have a heart attack patient to care for, don’t run into a dark space without letting me clear it first. She could’ve been leading you into a trap.” That arched brow made a reappearance, and it was as sexy as it was stern, though he probably didn’t intend the former.
“I’m sorry. All I could think about was losing her.”
He kissed her forehead again. “I understand that. But I’m more worried about losing you.”
The words overwhelmed her with emotion—gratitude for his concern, admiration that a hard-edged soldier could show such tenderness, and another feeling, too. One that created a warm, expansive pressure in her chest. “Okay,” she managed. She opened her palm and showed the locket to Nick. “This was mine. It’s from my mom’s jewelry box in my room. I have no idea how Charlie would’ve gotten it.”
Nick frowned. “When was the last time he was at your place?”
She shook her head. “He came over for Christmas. So, about four months ago?”
“Let’s get you out of here and we can talk more about it.” He grasped her hand and led her back to Beckett and Shane, who had been standing guard outside the hallway. As they all made for Nick’s car, he said, “Street thugs grabbed him Monday morning. Emptied his room.”
“Well, that nails down time of disappearance, but it only hints at who took him,” Shane said. “Where to now?” He paused at the driver’s door to his big charcoal gray pickup.
“Back to Hard Ink, I guess,” Nick said.
“Wait.” Becca leaned into the crook of steel created by her open car door. “Can we go to my house?” She knew she couldn’t stay there, but there were some things she’d really like to check on and bring with her. And the morbid curiosity to see just how wrecked the place was had been crawling up her spine for the last day. She knew what Charlie’s apartment looked like. Was hers better? Worse? Maybe it was stupid to fixate on it, but the unknown felt harder to deal with than just facing it.
Nick frowned. “That’s a bad idea.”
His words didn’t surprise her at all, or deter her. “Just long enough to pick a few things up. While we have everyone with us?”
“Hold on,” he said, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket and holding it out. “Marz? On speaker again. What’s up?”
“Hey. Just relaying that a Walt Jackson called for Becca through the reward line. Asked if she could return to his place as soon as possible. That make sense to you?”
“Yeah,” she and Nick said at the same time.
“Also, FYI, we’re done with the cab trace. Charlie was grabbed from the Road Star Motel last Monday morning. Found a witness,” Nick said. Another moment or two of small talk, and they hung up.
Torn between disappointment at not getting to go home and anticipation of what Walt might have to say, Becca nodded. “Let’s go, then.” She slid into the soft leather seat and settled into the corner. Man, she was tired, just bone weary. But no matter how bad she felt, it couldn’t possibly come close to what Charlie was going through, and that’s what she had to remember. With Nick and Beckett murmuring in the front seat, she almost gave in to the lull of the road noise and let herself drift off.