She straightened and found Gabe staring at her with an expression that made her chest tighten.
"YouTube is very educational," she offered, knowing the excuse sounded hollow.
Liar. The look on his face made his thoughts all too obvious.
The door opened on hinges that had been recently oiled despite the building's apparent abandonment. They slipped inside and darkness swallowed them completely. Thewarehouse smelled like salt and rust and old diesel, industrial space stretching away into shadows. Shipping containers were stacked three high along one wall, and minimal lighting created pools of darkness perfect for people who needed privacy for illegal activities.
Gabe drew his weapon and moved forward.
Cara followed, staying in his shadow.
They searched systematically through the main space. Most of the warehouse held legitimate inventory waiting for transport. Old equipment sat covered in dust. Nothing immediately suspicious presented itself.
Then they reached the back corner, and everything changed.
Evidence of recent occupation was unmistakable. A sleeping bag lay tucked behind a crate. A compact camp stove sat beside it. Empty water bottles lined up against the wall. Someone had created a makeshift workspace using an upturned crate as a desk, with papers spread across its surface and weighted down with rocks.
Someone had lived here recently.
"David," Gabe breathed, and the hope mixed with fear in his voice made her chest ache.
“Gabe, look.” A phone sat on a metal shelf like someone had set it down intending to come back for it.
He flew across the space and lunged for it, holding it out so she could see it as well.
Burner phone. Cheap prepaid model. She'd used dozens of identical devices in her previous life. Untraceable. Disposable. The communication method of choice for people who needed to stay off grid.
Gabe tried to activate it, but the screen remained dark. “Dead.”
“I got this.” She pulled a charging cable from her bag and found an outlet that still had power.
While Gabe walked the space, searching for more clues, Cara watched the screen. The phone's battery struggled to life slowly, the screen flickering before finally stabilizing. “Phone’s on,” she called out softly.
Gabe moved beside her until he stood close enough that she could feel his warmth through both their jackets.
She navigated to the messages. One draft message sat unsent in the outbox.
“Open it,” Gabe commanded, his voice hard.
Her stomach dropped as she read the truncated text:
Meeting you at 0200. If something happens to me, tell my brother that Dad was right. It's still active. Same operation, same players or their successors. I can prove?—
The message cut off mid-sentence.
The contact was saved as just "M" with a number that showed as disconnected when she checked.
The date stamp read three weeks ago.
"He was here," Gabe said, and his voice cracked with raw emotion. "Writing this message. Planning to meet someone."
Cara's brain worked through the implications with the kind of analysis she shouldn't possess. "They haven't found this place yet."
Gabe looked at her sharply. "What makes you say that?"
"The phone is still here." She met his eyes. "This is David's backup location. His safety net. And they don't know it exists yet, which means he's been careful about covering his tracks."
Relief and fear fought across Gabe's features as the logic sank in. "He got out before they could corner him. He knew to run and stay hidden."
