Deadly Pursuit - Chapter 8
“The guys who tried to take me did this, didn’t they?” Serena asked in a shaky voice.
“Them or someone working with them,” Tyre answered.
“Oh, my God.” Serena covered her mouth with one hand. “Charley… do you think they got him? Do you think he’s…”
“Let’s stay positive. We don’t know anything yet. Look around. See if we can find anything in the apartment that might help us.”
“I don’t know what to look for.”
“I don’t know either. Investigations were often more an art than a science. Anything out of place or unusual or that just doesn’t seem right. Though that might be harder to distinguish here since it’s already been ransacked.”
The search of the apartment didn’t take long. Tyre noted that there were signs on the doorframe indicating that the door had been forced open.
She was right about the rest of the apartment having been searched as well. The dresser drawers in the bedroom were open, the clothes tossed on the floor. The mattress was askew as if someone had pushed it aside to look under it. The bedside table was on the floor on its side. The lamp Tyre assumed had once sat atop it lay broken next to it now. It appeared that some of Charley’s clothes might have been missing. Tyre assured her that was a good sign. It meant that Charley might have gone into hiding before the bad guys arrived.
“The only thing that seems out of place to me is that Charley's computer is gone.” Serena pointed to the desk in the corner of the living room. There was a keyboard on the desk, but no computer.
“So either Charley took it with him when he left or the bad guys have it,” Tyre said.
“Which would make sense if the bad guys think Charley sent me the file they’re looking for. But how would they know that?”
“I’m not sure, but they obviously know he sent you something, which makes me think they either have his computer or they’ve hacked into his email system.”
“That wouldn’t be easy. Charley is fanatical about online security.”
But even as she spoke the words, she knew that if someone really wanted to hack into another’s computer, there was always a way.
Tyre’s gaze was focused out of the window.
“What’s going on out there?” When he didn’t answer right away, she went to stand next to him.
Two men emerged from a black paneled van—one tall, one short—and strode with purpose toward the building.
Tyre turned, his eyes locking on to hers. “We’ve got to go. Now.”