Page 66 of Destroyer
Sydney hurried down the hall, stopping in the foyer between the two rooms, Lorne close on her heels. To her surprise, he walked toward Naomi’s assailant. After eyeing the body, he returned to the foyer.
“Read me the texts she sent you,” Lorne said.
She offered Lorne her phone.
“I forgot my reading glasses,” he said. “Mr. Santini, can you wait outside?”
“No problem,” Tank replied.
“No,” Sydney said. “He stays. Tank cleared the house with me and he’s been very calming. Kept me from spinning out.”
“We have to follow protocol,” Lorne said.
“Protocol also calls for exceptions in extreme circumstances. I trust him, and you can too,” she replied.
Lorne started to object again, then said, “Just read the texts.”
“Naomi sent this at one-oh-five this morning,” Sydney said. “‘OMG, OMG, it’s him. I’m going to follow him.’ Her second text came in at two-thirty. It says, ‘I lost him on GW Pkwy. Going home.’”
Sydney’s heart was broken. She’d just lost a dear friend who’d been gunned down in cold blood by a ruthless predator.
“It’s Crafty Lamar,” Lorne said.
“The one who goes by Hollywood?” Sydney added. “But he doesn’t look anything like him.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Tank added.
She and Lorne whipped their heads in his direction.
“You know him?” Sydney asked.
“Just met the guy. My floor manager introduced him to me at my restaurant. She told me Hollywood was her new boyfriend, but he didn’t look like that.”
“What did he look like?” Lorne asked.
“Spiked, dark hair with blond tips, dark beard and ‘stache. He wore blue-framed prescription glasses. Everything about him looked a little too?—
“Perfect,” Lorne said.
“Like he was trying too hard,” Tank replied. “He was damn good at changing up his looks.”
“That’s what made him so hard to find,” Sydney said. “But Naomi could see through his disguises.”
“She was genius when it came to that,” Lorne agreed.
A hatred Sydney had never felt made her blood boil. Her fingers curled into fists. “That leaves Number One and I’m gonna hunt?—”
Lorne held up his hand. “Not so fast, Sydney. Either Crafty Lamar turned the tail and followed Naomi home, or a third person—maybe Number One—followed her here.” He glanced from her to Tank, then back to her. “What have you touched?”
“Too damn much,” Tank bit out.
Sydney provided Lorne with a brief rundown of how they’d entered the house, checked the vics’ pulses, then cleared the home.
“I need to call this in,” Lorne said. “The police, then the FBI will want in.” Lorne shook his head. “I wish you’d never come here.”
“I was worried about Naomi,” Sydney pushed back.
“You need to leave,” Lorne said, “and you were never here.”
