I frowned. “On an island like this, that’s…”
“Exactly,” Devon said. “It’ll be small. But that’s good. Because small data sets show patterns if you’re patient. And you, my darling, are fabulous with patterns.”
I swallowed. “What else?”
“Third,” Devon said, “community networks. The underground ones. You already found one—Rosa.”
My chest tightened. “I can’t put those people at risk.”
“You don’t have to,” Devon said. “You don’t ask them for names on a recorded line. You ask for structure. Where do they share warnings? Who do they trust? What places do they avoid? What prompts them to change their routines?”
I stared at the plant by the window, leaves pointed like little spears. “Structure.”
“Yes,” Devon said. “Because structure tells you the predator’s hunting ground without anyone having to expose themselves.”
I wrote it down.
“And fourth,” Devon added, “transportation and lodging.”
My brow furrowed. “Lodging?”
“Hotels. Vacation rentals. Seasonal housing,” Devon said. “People who come and go. Employees who rotate. Places where someone can disappear and the story becomes ‘she went home.’”
I felt my pulse pick up. “And transportation.”
“Yes,” Devon said. “Your instinct is the ferry.”
“I have a friend who can access ferry records quietly,” I said. Willa would help if Rios asked. She’d probably help even if I did.
“Good,” Devon said. “Now they don’t conveniently keep some tab of women traveling alone. What they do keep is transaction logs. Ticket sales. Vehicle manifests if vehicles are involved. Time stamps. Payment methods. Sometimes plate numbers—depending on their security and whether they track for billing or capacity. And if they don’t track plates, they still track cars as units. And units leaving should roughly match units arriving.”
I sat up straighter. “So you look for anomalies.”
“Exactly,” Devon said. “One-way patterns. Cars arriving and never leaving. Return tickets purchased and never used. Clusters of one-way foot passengers on certain days. Cash purchases at weird hours. And—this matters—repeat vehicles. The same unit showing up in patterns that don’t make sense for a local.”
The moisture in my mouth evaporated. “That’s…”
“That’s how you build a map without asking people to bleed,” Devon said quietly.
I swallowed hard. “And if I can get those logs…”
“Pull once,” Devon warned. “Don’t poke it repeatedly. One quiet request. One clean pull. Then you analyze offline. Somewhere no one’s watching.”
My hand shook slightly as I underlined it.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Fifth,” Devon said, “digital footprints. Not fancy. Not hacking. The stuff people leave behind without realizing it.”
“Like what?”
“Social media. Public posts. Tagged locations. ‘Girls trip to Hatterwick!’ Photos at the boardwalk. Then silence. And message boards—travel forums, seasonal worker groups, migrant community networks. Places where people warn each other.”
My stomach twisted. “So… I post?”
“Carefully, as a person looking for information about missing loved ones,” Devon said. “Or you post through a third party. Or you use Unaccounted as a signal boost later once you have enough to protect your sources.”
Later.
