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Ages beside each.

Fourteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Fifteen.

Eighteen.

Thirteen.

Sage reads over my shoulder.

“Girls.”

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“The manifest lists a departure point near the Colorado–New Mexico border.”

“What time?”

“Midnight.”

Sally releases Hayley.

“There’s another transfer station.”

Everyone looks at her.

“Where?” I ask.

“San Luis Freight Terminal.”

Taylor searches the name.

Nothing appears.

“It isn’t an active company,” Sally says. “It’s an abandoned produce warehouse outside a town called Garcia.”

“Who owns it?”

“Navarro.”

Taylor enters the location.

Satellite images appear.

A large warehouse stands alone near the mountains.

Several trucks surround it.

“When was this taken?” Kane asks.

“Forty minutes ago.”