CHAPTER NINE
“I think you have the wrong number,” I say tightening my grip on the handset.
His voice thickens. “Where is she?”
I peer over my shoulder. The hairs on the back of my neck quiver. I eye Mackenzie’s open door. He’s not in. So why does it feel like he’s watching me? “Sir?”
“My daughter. She works—worked—for that man. Mackenzie.”
“I’m . . .” The name on the second email inbox is Cassandra, not Annie. “I think another lady—”
“Five weeks. I’ve been in twice and that damned bruiser in the lobby won’t let me upstairs. I want to speak to Mackenzie.” The caller coughs, his emotional state getting the better of him before he wrestles back control with a swallow and continues. “My Annie disappeared five weeks ago. She was last seen leaving that building. No one has heard from her.
