No more second-guessing instincts.
No more playing defense.
“They left a trail?” I asked.
“Ranger’s checking tire impressions,” Cap said. “Ghost pulled external camera footage—van looks like a standard contractor vehicle, no plates. But he’s running satellite overlays and traffic cams now.”
“What about the guards?”
“Doc sedated one. The other’s concussed, barely coherent. Said something about a man in a mask whispering in his ear.”
I didn’t need to ask what.
I already knew.
The elevator opens for everyone eventually.
My hands curled into fists.
“Smoke’s tracking?” I asked.
Cap glanced toward the dog. “He’s trying.”
“Let’s use it,” I said. “He caught her scent. We grab a leash, head to the fence line. If the van drove off property, there’ll be a trail. If not—we check the outbuildings.”
“Already flagged it with Brutus,” Cap said. “But I want you out there too. You’re the one she trusts. If she’s leaving breadcrumbs, you’ll see them.”
“Copy that.”
I turned back to Smoke and crouched.
“You ready to find your girl?” I whispered.
Smoke let out a sharp bark.
Yeah. Me too.
The tech room door slammed open like a bomb went off.
Brutus stalked in, still in his cut and half-covered in mud, a tablet clutched in one hand and his breathing like a bull on a rampage.
“Got something.”
Ghost was already halfway to the screen. Ranger dropped back into his seat, flicking the comms over to silent as Brutus slammed the tablet onto the table and jabbed the screen.
“Traffic cam off Route 10. Four minutes before the blackout. Gray van, partial plates. Matches the one Amanda got grabbed in.”
He tapped again, zooming in. There, in grainy footage and bad lighting, was the van. Plain as hell, no markings, but unmistakably the one from earlier reports. I stepped forward, and my gut turned to ice.
“Amanda?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.
Brutus swiped through the footage. “Frame-by-frame. Right here.”
He paused it on a blurry shot through the rear window.
Amanda’s red hair.
Her jacket.
