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Faster.

“You wanted us to find the truck,” I said.

Silence.

“You wanted us away from the tavern.”

The call disconnected.

Mace had already taken out his phone.

“Wolf, check in.”

Wolf answered after one ring.

“Secure.”

“Any movement?”

“Nothing outside.”

“Where is Rylie?”

“Upstairs with Trigger, Max, and Nora. Saint has every camera on screen.”

Mace looked toward me.

“It wasn’t a diversion.”

“Then why bring us here?”

The prepaid phone vibrated inside the evidence bag.

A text message appeared.

SHE KEPT WHAT BELONGED TO ME.

Sheriff Tate read it over my shoulder.

“The key.”

“He knows Rylie still has it,” I said.

“Or he thinks she does,” Mace answered.

I looked at the road leading toward the old camp.

“He heard us talking.”

Sheriff Tate’s face hardened.

“At the tavern?”

“Rylie remembered the key less than fifteen minutes before that truck drove past.”

“That means someone was close enough to hear her,” Mace said.

“Or the tavern is bugged.”