“This isn’t consumer-grade.”Carl taps the keypad with the back of his knuckle.“It’s black-market, military-adjacent tech.I’ll have Theo and Ross confirm, but I’ve seen something like this before.It’s booby-trapped in a digital sense.Wrong code or too many attempts, and the lock bricks itself permanently.Power fries.”
“So we get one shot.”My stomach plummets.
“At best.”Carl sighs.“Assuming the passcode isn’t time-locked, location-locked, or biometric on top of it.”
I have no idea what the passcode could be.Did Jag leave it somewhere I might find it?Or Dove…?
“The graves.”My heart rate redoubles.“He leaves rocks under his parents’ graves in Anaheim.Coded rocks for Dove.Holy fuck, that’s it!”
Monty’s already pulling out his phone, fingers moving fast.
“Wilson,” he says in greeting, “I need the cemetery where David and Celeste Rath are buried.Anaheim, California.And I need someone you trust on-site within the hour.”He glances at me, eyes asking for details.
“Tell them to look under a newly planted flower or tree.”I start pacing.
When Jag killed Gavin, he was in California.He could’ve left a message then, especially if he intended to run.
Monty relays the information and ends the call.“Now we wait.”
I lean against the shed wall, hands in my pockets, adrenaline surging.
“Even if we get inside…” Monty eyes me.“There’s a possibility Jag erased the feed or cleared out the equipment.”
“You don’t need to manage my expectations, Dad.Disappointment is basically my side hustle.I’ve been eating that shit for breakfast since I could walk.”
His eyes soften with regret.Whenever I mention my childhood, it reminds him he wasn’t there for it.He stares at me like he wants to rewind time and beat the hell out of everyone who let me down.
Including himself.
“Come on.”I head to the back stoop of the rotting house and light a cigarette.
Monty joins me, the porch groaning under our weight.
The shed looms in front of us.Carl paces nearby, speaking on the phone with Theo and Ross.
I can’t stop staring at the keypad.Can’t stop bouncing my leg.Can’t stop thinking about Dove.
Monty rests his elbows on his knees, watching the sky shift above the trees.He doesn’t try to fix this.Doesn’t say it’s going to be okay.I’m grateful for that.
Theo and Ross eventually show up, carrying all their gear.
One hour.Sixty minutes.A thousand years.
Then, finally, Monty’s phone buzzes.
He grabs it quickly, stands, and answers without looking at the screen.
“Wilson.”A pause.He listens.His shoulders shift.“Copy that.Send the photo.”He hangs up and meets my eyes.“They found it.”
“What’s on it?”I lurch to my feet.
He hands me his phone.
A photo lights up the screen, showing a smooth white rock nestled in the dirt beside a young sapling.Written across its surface in thick black sharpie are six numbers.
Blood thrashes in my ears as I cross the yard to the shed.I don’t hesitate.Don’t second-guess.
I punch in the code.
