Page 121 of Freeing Lark

“Working on it.”

Hoot glanced toward the ballroom. The party continued around them, unaware of the danger that had struck so close to their pretentious mingling. No one the wiser.

Hoot was though. Someone had planned this. And they’d planned it well.

“Where are Calloway and the Whitmore kid?” Flint asked.

Hoot scanned the crowd. Still not spotting either man. “They were in the ballroom.”

“Not anymore,” Jeeves said.

Hoot’s head snapped toward him. Jeeves held up his phone. “I got this footage. Both men left through the west side of the ballroom about four minutes ago.”

“Together?”

“No. Calloway went first. Bradley followed thirty seconds later.”

Hoot’s instincts screamed. “Where did they go?”

“That’s the problem.” Jeeves pointed toward the footage. “They disappeared behind a cluster of guests.”

Hoot stared at the screen. There. Calloway’s shoulder. Thirty seconds later, Bradley’s face. Then nothing. It was almost as if they’d vanished.

Haley suddenly spoke. “Wait.” Everyone went quiet. “I found something.” A new image appeared on Hoot’s phone. Calloway and Bradley weren't leaving the building. They were changing clothes.

Hoot stared. “Where the hell did they get those?”

“Service area,” Haley said. “Two staff members entered a maintenance room shortly before the cameras went down.”

“And came out?”

“Two minutes later.”

Hoot’s blood chilled. “They used staff uniforms.”

“Looks that way.”

Flint’s expression hardened. “So they had inside help.”

“Or they had someone on their payroll,” Hoot said.

Haley interrupted. “I’ve recovered part of the camera loop.”

The image flickered. A hallway appeared. Two men pushing a utility cart, neither matching the height and build of Calloway or Bradley. One of them wore a black service uniform. The other pushed from behind.

The cart was covered with a white linen cloth. Hoot stared at it. “Where’s that hallway lead?”

“Loading area at the back of the house. East side.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. “Can you enhance the image?”

“I already did.” The picture sharpened. For a fraction of a second, a hand appeared beneath the edge of the linen. A woman’s hand. A bracelet dangling from her wrist. Lark’s bracelet. Then one of the men noticed it and pushed it back down under the cloth.

Hoot’s entire body went rigid. “That’s her.”

Flint was already moving. “Everybody to the east side.”

They ran. By the time they reached it, the loading area was empty. A service door swung slowly in the wind. Beyond it, tire tracks disappeared into the wet pavement.