Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I cut across the side of the building again, keeping my flashlight beam low, because there’s no need to advertise my position. The janitor called in sick, which means Elena will be staying late to lock the place down tonight. Buck didn’t like that, and neither did I.
Sentinel’s doing extra patrols, the motion lights are up, and cameras cover more angles than they did a week ago. None of that changes the fact that somebody keeps coming back.
Near the edge of the staff lot, next to a stand of scrub and young pines, I crouch and let the flashlight settle. From here, there’s a clean view of both the main entrance and the staff lot.
Two cigarette butts lie half-ground into the dirt, wet from the thin layer of melt this afternoon. Buck found butts just like this earlier this week, dark paper, strong foreign tobacco, nothing sold near Moon Ridge.
This isn’t a bored teenager hiding a bad habit or a teacher taking a break.
I glance up, tracing the sightlines the way I was trained to. Front doors, staff entrance, Elena’s office window along the side. Anyone sitting here could see who comes in and who stays late. They could watch to see whether Elena leaves alone or has T.J. with her, and track her direction when she drives off.
My jaw locks.
A few yards farther out, near the service road that cuts behind the gym, there are tread marks in the dirt. Snow softened their edges, but not enough to hide the fact that they’re the same pattern Calder found near the fire station. Whoever parked here knew how to pick spots that don’t draw attention from the road but still give useful angles.
I move past it, scanning wider to where three narrow impressions form a rough triangle in the dirt. Tripod legs.
It’s not a spot for a hunter or some dad taking photos of a winter concert, especially not with concealed parking and imported tobacco.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter. The anger that rolls through me is hot against the cold. Arson was bad enough. This is planned and deliberate, rather than reckless.
Whoever this is, he has patience, resources, and enough training to know what matters.
Not enough to stay invisible, though. The cigarette butts are sloppy, and so are the tripod marks. Parking in repeat concealment sites is careless. A full professional wouldn’t leave a pattern this easy to connect.
It tells me the man we’re dealing with is dangerous and arrogant enough to think he won’t get caught.
I straighten, roll my shoulders once, and key the radio clipped under my coat. I keep my voice low as I pass Buck the basics.
“Copy. I’ll have Calder come document it in better light first thing,” he says. “Get Elena out of there, and don’t dump more on her tonight unless you have to.”
He knows I’d rather give her every piece of intel we have than leave her standing in the dark, but Buck’s right. She’s carrying enough. Too much.
I make one more sweep before heading around front. The lot is mostly empty now, but Elena’s vehicle still sits under one of the new lights.
At the entrance to the main building, one of the outer doors isn’t sitting flush in its frame. I take the steps two at a time and tug it open. A faint electronic chirp comes from somewhere inside.
A second later, Elena appears in the vestibule, her coat half on and a laptop bag hanging from one shoulder. She has a ring of keys in one hand and the security tablet in the other.
She looks up, and for one stupid second, all I register is her. Soft, dark hair pulled back in a clip, tension pinching the corners of her pretty mouth, and a line between her brows creasing deeper than it ever should.
As I slide the bag from her arm, she says, “Please tell me how to make this thing stop yelling at me.” Even thin and tired, her voice does something to me. The panel chirps again.
I take the tablet from her. “You trying to arm the whole building, or just the main wing?”
“The whole building.” She lets out a sigh as she shoves her arm into the loose sleeve. “I think. Unless I already did that and now I’m locking myself inside forever.”
I glance at the screen and quickly see the issue. “You skipped a door.”
“I checked every one.”
“One’s not sealed right.” I nod at the door behind her. “This one.”
She closes her eyes briefly, and it’s the kind of small, frayed action that tells me she’s closer to overload than she wants anyone to know. “Of course it is.”
I reach past her and pull the door fully shut until the latch catches, then I enter the code Buck arranged for emergency access, and the chirping stops.
Elena sags, but only for a second. “Thank you.”