Melvin was our weekday night-time security guy.
“You’re right. Call him. I’ll keep going through this. There’s no point checking the tracker on her phone since she didn’t have it on her, did she?”
“No, she left it in my room.”
It had been on my bedside table before I left my room. We couldn’t track her, and it frustrated me no end. I should have insisted she took it with her. Maybe then we wouldn’t be on the back foot. Then again, whoever took her would have probably checked her for a phone and got rid of it. We were going to have to work out a better way to track our girl. Something more discreet. I’d talk to the boys about it when we got her back. We were going to find her. I was in no fucking doubt of that. We would move heaven and earth to get to her. This time, we wouldn’t fail Scarlett. We would never fail her again.
I picked up Drake’s office phone and rang down to the front desk. The longer the phone rang without being answered, the more concerned I grew. Melvin normally answered straight away unless he was taking a toilet break.
“He’s not answering.”
“Go down and check on him. Take West with you.”
We could have checked the feeds, but it was going to take Drake long enough to go through the footage as it was. I moved over to West, pulling him by the arm. He came willingly, even if he looked about ready to unleash hell upon the world. I was fully on board with that fucking idea. Heads were going to roll when we found out who had taken her. This time, we weren’t going to allow her to go missing for ten years. Even ten fucking seconds was too long.
I swear to you, Scar, I swear on my fucking life we’ll find you and bring you home.
“I know Drake’s right,” West murmured as we walked along the hallway towards the lifts, “I know he’s fucking right, but I am going to murder the motherfucker who took her. I will tear him apart.”
“How do you know it’s a him?”
West gave me a look.
“I have a very good idea of who took her, Frankie. In fact, I will put fucking money on it.”
I eyed him as I pressed down on the button to call the lift.
“Who?”
“Think about it. Think long and fucking hard and you will come up with the same idea I have.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to Drake?”
West shrugged.
“You know what he’s like. He will need proof. But I know in my fucking gut.” He pointed at his chest. “I fucking know.”
The lift arrived and the two of us piled in. I didn’t ask him again as we rode down to the ground floor. West wasn’t going to share his thoughts with me when he was in this kind of mood.
When the doors opened, both of us stepped out and walked over to the reception desk. My eyes darted around, seeing no one about. West made his way behind it.
“Frankie.”
He disappeared from sight, making me race over to find out what was happening. The marble floor was cold under my bare feet, but I didn’t give a shit. West was kneeling down next to Mel, checking for a pulse. There were no visible injuries on his body.
“Is he…？” I asked, pausing by his chair.
“He’s alive.” He slapped Mel’s face lightly. “Hey, come on, wake up.”
Mel didn’t stir.
“He must have knocked him out with the same shit as Scarlett.”
West put his arms under Mel and hauled him up, getting him sat down in the chair. Mel’s head lolled on his chest. There wasn’t much we could do about that. I picked up the desk phone and called up to Drake.
“Yeah?” Prescott answered.
“Mel is unconscious, but he’s alive. We think he was drugged like Scar.”
“Fuck, okay… Drake’s still checking the footage… wait, hold on, go back.”
I stood, my body tense as I waited for Prescott to say something else. Pressing down, I put the phone on speaker so West could hear too.
“There… stop there,” Prescott said a moment later. “Isn’t that…？”
There was a muffled voice from next to him, so I assumed Drake was answering. When neither of them said another word, I prompted them, wanting to know what the fuck they’d found.
“Who is it?”
And when Prescott replied to me, my blood ran cold. My eyes met West’s, who had a rather grim expression on his face.
“Is that who you were thinking?” I asked.
“Yeah. It fucking well is. And mark my words, he’s a dead man walking.”
Three