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He has a photograph on the screen.
A traffic camera captured the black SUV six miles from the ranch.
The image is blurred.
The plate is covered.
But the driver’s face is visible through the windshield.
Sage walks into the room behind me.
She sees the man.
All the color leaves her face.
“I know him.”
I turn.
“From where?”
“He came to Greg’s house.”
“When?”
“The night before Greg took me to the warehouse.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know. Greg made me stay in the house.”
“Did you hear a name?”
She stares at the screen.
“Greg called him Dalton.”
Holt stops in the doorway.
“Frank?”
Sage shakes her head.
“No.”
Her voice trembles.
“Frank was younger.”
Taylor searches the closed freight company records.
A photograph appears beside the former owner's name.
Patrick Dalton.
The man who supposedly died last year.
The man driving away from Marisol’s ranch.
