Don't Lose Her Read Online Free

techs are trying to zoom the traffic cam photos to pick up the VIN plate under the windshield glass to ID the van, but good luck with that.”
    Howard was not completely unlike me. He didn’t totally believe in the magic of technology.
    â€œThe witness on the street said she made out three men, including a driver. She said men because they all wore black and had ski masks over their heads and faces. Two of them pulled the judge into the open slide door of the van and they left in a screech, according to her.
    â€œAnother wit, up there,” Howard pointed to an open window on the second floor across the street, “looked out at the sound of the screech and noted the van blowing through the light and heading west.”
    He then pointed down at the huddle of technicians at the curb.
    â€œDespite the shit you see on CSI, they’re not going to find tire tread size and the composite makeup of vulcanized rubber and then match it to the manufacturer and run down the purchaser and an address of the van owner before the next E*TRADE smartass baby commercial.”
    This I knew, believe me. I had also surmised the rest of it, or Howard wouldn’t still be standing here.
    â€œWe’re still looking for the van, wherever they finally ditch the thing, but this scene is just about done, Mr. Freeman. You might as well join your friend over at the courthouse and wait with him for the ransom call.”
    I looked into the dark lenses of the agent’s glasses, maybe finding his eyes. The feds never tell you everything. Like good poker players, they always hold something back.
    â€œWas anything found here?” I said.
    The sunlight flickered on his lenses when he tilted his head, subtly looking away.
    â€œDiane was going to lunch, carrying her purse, and considering her court status, always kept a cell phone in that purse,” I said.
    Howard took his time.
    Even if Diane had turned her cell off—and she never turned it off—the signal could have been traced and triangulated to determine her location, sometimes within a few yards.
    â€œWe found her purse three blocks away up past Quadrille,” Howard finally said. “It appeared to have been tossed out the window. The cell and her wallet with cash and cards were still inside. There was no indication they even opened it, but we’re having it printed just in case.”
    No chance of tracking the cell signal. No chance these were idiots who would stop at the 7-Eleven to buy beer with her charge cards. They’d gambled big, but they were not just your average thugs. They were smart and they didn’t care about small change. I knew those facts would take this abduction to a whole new level, a whole new motivation.
    I thanked Howard for being candid and for his time and he accepted my handshake.
    â€œI’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “We will get her back.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” I answered. “I know we will.”

Chapter 5
    N ow, she noted a slow turn, the way the van crawled, the screech of worn brake pads beneath her ear, still pressed against the floorboards. Diane had calmed herself. The knee that pinned her down had eased up when she stopped struggling and she’d curled herself up. She felt another inching right turn. The wheels bumped over a small ridge and then she heard the distinctive sound of metal sliding against metal coming from outside the van, the sound echoing. Garage door? Big one. In a large empty enclosure. Warehouse?
    Brains not brawn, Diane, she thought. You’re a 140-pound pregnant woman. You can’t fight them. You have to outsmart them.
    No one had said a word during the entire ordeal. No shout, no orders or directions given. She had seen two—no, three—men, including the driver, before they’d pulled the cloth over her head. But in her memory there were no distinguishing features. Dark clothes, maybe dark eyes inside the mask on the face of the one