The same photos appeared on social media, posted months earlier. Different angles. Different captions.
She tapped through profiles until she had names.
Then she texted Matthew.
I found the names of some of Kate’s friends. Can you pull their addresses?
Matthew’s reply came almost immediately.
On it.
Andi slipped her phone back into her pocket.
Kate hadn’t vanished into thin air.
And Andi wasn’t done looking for her.
Not even close.
Duke and Andi stepped from Kate’s apartment complex and out into the bright LA day.
The moment their feet touched the sidewalk, it hit him.
That familiar tightening at the base of his skull.
The subtle prickle along his spine.
The feeling of unseen eyes watching him.
Duke slowed without meaning to, his gaze sweeping the sidewalk, the parked cars, the balconies above them.
People moved past—joggers, a couple arguing quietly, a man unlocking his bike.
Everything appeared ordinary and unremarkable.
Still, the feeling didn’t fade.
“You sense it too, don’t you?” Andi’s soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.
He didn’t bother pretending. “Yeah, I do.”
Her steps slowed. “How long?”
“Since San Francisco,” he admitted. “On and off. I didn’t want to read too much into it.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s undeniable. We’re being watched. Followed. Studied.”
They stopped near the curb. Duke turned slowly, taking in the street again.
He didn’t see any lingering stares or obvious tails. Just movement and noise and sunlight.
Andi followed his gaze. “I don’t see anyone. You?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean much.”
She folded her arms, tension visible in the set of her shoulders. “We need to figure out why we keep ending up at the center of this. Seattle. Portland. Gina. Now Kate. It doesn’t make sense.”
