“That porn site is run out of LA. They do all their filming in LA or around there. All their players are from there. They don’t contract out anything, film production, tech, IT or customer service. The site doesn’t have message boards. They don’t ask for reviews. Customer email in and out, that’s it. Unless someone hacked them. And I don’t have the intel yet if someone did. I’ve asked Brody at Nightingale’s shop to dig into that. But outside a hack, since no one involved is local, it’d be impossible for someone there to have had a personal sitch with Hattie. Not to mention, their players are gay. This is a shop by and for gay dudes. They have a mission statement about it, being a safe place for gays and kink, their actors and their viewers. I’m sure they get they have female and hetero male viewers, but I think chances are low there’s some insider who wants to dick with a woman.”

Axl had suspected there was nothing there.

That didn’t mean there was nothing there.

It just wasn’t an inside man.

“Do they require cell numbers for subscriptions?” he asked.

“Yeah. For possible tech support and payment issues purposes,” Jorge answered.

“Right, then for that to be the angle for how he got her info, the guy would have to know she’s into that,” Axl pointed out. “Which means he’s either hacked her laptop, or he’s been in her apartment, got into her laptop, and checked her history.”

“Already got Brody on a potential hack of her system. But for the other, we need to dust inside,” Jorge replied.

“I’ll tell Hattie. Any prints we can use on the rope or note?” Axl asked.

Jorge shook his head.

Fuck.

He’d hoped this was just some amateur asshole fucking with her, and because of that he’d screw up fast and they could get past this.

Then again, pretty much anyone knew not to leave prints.

“We’ll get inside, Axl,” Jorge said. “See if we can find anything. And we set up the cameras. Farmed out on that and they went in wearing a bogus uniform, just in case this guy is casing her, he wouldn’t know the cameras were put in. If he makes another approach, we’ll see.”

Axl nodded. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jorge replied.

They tipped chins at each other, and then Axl headed toward the conference room.

He did this looking at the multitude of monitors on the wall in front of the workstations.

And yeah.

There was Hattie’s place. One monitor had a revolution of shots of the front door to her house, her apartment front door, the back door and her parking spot with her car. Another monitor had a revolution of sides of the house.