Page 36 of Bodied

“One hundred percent,” Lauren answered.

The restaurant owner slowed the playback speed, and they watched as Anne Bartlett walked down the street, completely oblivious to the dark van pulling up beside her. The door of the vehicle slid open, an arm reached out, and someone yanked Anne into the van without it even coming to a complete stop. “Wow,” the restaurant owner said. “That takes some balls right there.”

“Is that van blue or gray?” Wesley asked.

Lauren squinted at the screen. The sunlight reflecting off the finish made it difficult to tell. “I think it’s like a really dark blue. Can we get a read on the license plate?”

The restaurant owner shook his head. “I don’t think the resolution is high enough.” He paused repeatedly in several different places, zooming in each time on the little white square, but the letters and numbers never got any clearer. “They’re probably using a stolen van and plate anyway,” he said. “It might not do you any good.”

Wesley ignored him. “Can we get a clear screenshot of the van?”

“Sure.”

Once they were given their screenshot, they went outside to hit up the next store over.

“Do you think they’re using a stolen van and plate like he said?” Lauren asked.

Wesley shrugged. “Possibly. But never ditch a lead under the assumption that your culprit is smart. They often aren’t. These guys were way too brazen in how they went about this. Let’s look at a few more security tapes.”

The next place they visited was a jewelry store. “Promising,” Wesley said.

Lauren agreed. “The security here has to be better quality than a restaurant, right?”

“Maybe.”

They found the manager quickly, and he took them into the back just the way the restaurant owner had. This system, though, looked remarkably more sophisticated. Lauren began to hope. She gave the manager the exact time where the van had appeared on the other tape, and together they watched the screen. Both the angle and the quality of this security footage was significantly better. Lauren could even see her mom’s expression change when she was grabbed, the fear on her face. She felt like the worst daughter in the world, but that only made her more determined to fix this.

“There.” Wesley hit pause before the manager could even reach for the button. “There’s the license plate. Can we get a screenshot of that?”

With a new image in hand, Lauren walked with Wesley back to his car. “Now what?” she asked.

“Now we get someone to run the plate.”

“Don’t we call the police for that?”

“Not unless you want to wait for a warrant. In this case, we don’t even know that this isn’t a stolen plate. We need to find someone who can do this under the radar for now. I have a connection. If we get an address, we can scope it out ourselves. It’ll be…a little illegal.” He glanced down at her. “I hope you’re okay with that?”

“I just want my mom back. I don’t care whether it’s legal or not.”

“Good.”

They drove together to a part of the city Lauren had never been to. It was a lot darker and dingier than the corner she called home. They turned down a back alley, and Wesley parked the car. Lauren followed him to a rusty door with a doorbell, which he rang. She didn’t hear anything when he pushed the button, but soon enough, she could hear someone unlocking the door from the inside and slowly pushing it open. On the other side stood a man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties, still dressed in his pajamas and sipping a mug of coffee.

“Jeffrey!” Wesley put out a hand, which the other man slapped and shook in a way that indicated the two had known each other for a long time. “I need a favor from you, if you don’t mind.”

Jeffrey laughed. “You know I mind every time, but I’ll do it anyway. What’s the favor?”

“I need a license plate run.”

“Not a problem,” Jeffrey said. “Come on in. Don’t mind the mess.” He opened the door and allowed Wesley and Lauren to pass through. “Who’s the little lady, by the way?”

“Oh, right.” Wesley gestured to Lauren as they made their way to a back room. “Jeff, this is Lauren Bartlett, daughter to Anne Bartlett.” Then he turned to Lauren. “And Lauren, this is Jeffrey Maddox, ex-cop and current hacker.”

“Um…” Lauren searched for the right words and finally just went with the most generic thing she could think of. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr.—”

“Jeff works.”

“Mr. Jeff,” she concluded.

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