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“So she’s in Georgia? That’s gonna be a long ride.”
Twitchy snorted. “Yeah. We’ll trade off driving. I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit.”
With a nod, I turned around in my seat, facing the front of the car again. “You tired?” I asked, thinking of how little sleep we had gotten the night before.
“I’m good.” Country glanced my way and winked. “You want to close your eyes? I’ll be fine for a bit.”
“Okay.” Stifling a yawn, I lowered the back of my seat and turned on my side. Within seconds, I was out.
Country’s voice roused me from sleep sometime later. I had no idea how long I had managed to close my eyes, but it didn’t feel like I slept more than an hour. Glancing at the dashboard clock, I realized it had only been about twenty minutes.
Groggy, I noticed we were parked on the side of the road.
Country and Twitchy were standing outside the jeep, staring at a phone.
I opened the door and stepped out.
“Georgia! Where are you?”
Crackling on the other end of the line distorted the voice. The words kept cutting out.
“I can’t hear you well, babe. What’s going on?”
More garbled words. The call ended.
“Shit!” Twitchy cursed. “Can you ask Xenon to track her phone and find out where she’s calling from?”
Spook shrugged. “I can ask him to try.”
“Do it.”
We waited while he called Xenon, explained the situation, and asked for help. Xenon told us to give him five minutes. He called back in three.
“Hey, brother,” Spook answered.
“The call came from Las Vegas. Georgia never left the state. I checked all the pings at every cell tower she could have come in contact with. I’ve sent the last known address.”
“Thanks. We’re heading there now.”
“Best call Grim. He needs to know what’s happening.”
“Will do,” Spook promised.
Twitchy decided to drive as I climbed in the back, and Country joined me.
“Isn’t that strange that she’s not in Georgia?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You worried?”
“Something isn’t right. It’s making me anxious.”
“That makes two of us,” Twitchy added from up front.
We didn’t speak much during the ride. Small talk seemed unimportant. Country kept checking the address since he plugged it into Google Maps. The ride had gone from thirty-three hours to under three—a significant difference.
We were all tense when the address led us to an old warehouse outside Las Vegas. The place was dark when we parked a short distance away, unsure what would await us when we walked inside. A single exterior light illuminated the rundown yard where weeds poked through the cracks in the asphalt. The lot was empty, and an old dumpster overflowed with trash, most of it industrial metal coils, shavings, and old office furniture.
