That catches my attention. "What does that mean?"
Ghost shrugs. "People leave traces, prospect. Parking tickets, credit reports, rental history. Your girl's got nothing but a driver's license from Nevada and a credit card that's only been active for three years."
"She's not my girl," I say, perhaps too defensively. "And maybe she's just careful with her info."
"Maybe." Ghost doesn't sound convinced. "Just keep your eyes open."
After he leaves, I pull out my phone again.
*Ghost says Reaper ran your background. Came back suspiciously clean.*
The response is immediate.
*Nothing suspicious about good habits. Some of us prefer not to leave digital breadcrumbs.*
I want to ask more questions, but the lunch crowd starts filing in, and I have to get back to work. The rest of the afternoon is busy enough that I don't have time to dwell on Maddie's cryptic messages or Ghost's warnings.
By the time I finish at the clubhouse and make the run to the warehouse, it's after seven. The inventory takes longer than expected. We've got parts for at least a dozen bikes in various states of "legitimacy", and it's nearly nine when I finally head home.
I'm not sure what to expect when I pull into my apartment complex. Part of me thinks Maddie will be long gone, off exploring Pine Haven or maybe even checked into that roachmotel after all. Another part hopes she's still there, maybe waiting with some takeout and more of that razor-sharp banter.
But when I unlock the door, the apartment is dark and empty.
"Maddie?" I call out, flipping on lights as I go. No answer.
I check the spare room. Her overnight bag is gone, bed neatly made. She's left, then.
I shouldn't be disappointed. This is better, really. Safer. Simpler. No temptation, no complicated feelings, no risking my relationship with James.
So why does my chest feel tight?
I grab a beer from the fridge and flop onto the couch, turning on the TV without really seeing what's playing. I'm halfway through the beer when my phone buzzes with a text.
*Need your help. Town outskirts, old Miller Road. Come alone.*
It's from Maddie, followed by a dropped pin on a map. The location is about fifteen minutes outside town, in a wooded area with nothing but an abandoned paper mill nearby.
I stare at the message, unease crawling up my spine. Why would she be out there? And why does she need help?
I hit call, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I try again. Same result.
"Fuck." I grab my keys and cut, heading for the door.
The smart thing would be to call Ghost or Blade, let them know what's happening. But the message said to come alone, and something tells me Maddie had a reason for that.
The ride out to Miller Road takes longer than it should, the darkness and my own mounting anxiety stretching the minutes.What if she's hurt? What if she's in trouble with the law and I'm riding straight into a trap?
The abandoned mill looms ahead, a hulking shadow against the night sky. I kill my headlight and coast the last hundred yards, parking behind a cluster of trees. Better to approach cautiously until I know what I'm dealing with.
The area is quiet. Too quiet. No cars in sight, no lights, nothing to indicate anyone's here at all.
I pull out my phone and text: *I'm here. Where are you?*
No response.
A twig snaps to my left, and I whirl around, hand instinctively reaching for the knife at my belt.
