Don’t go to Route 9. They know.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I showed the screen to Vance. Her composure shattered for the first time; her eyes widened slightly, and her hand instinctively moved to her holster.
“That wasn’t sent by your mother,” Vance said, her tone dropping an octave. “Your mother was taken into protective custody by our team two hours ago. Her phone was left behind at the house.”
“Then who is sending these?”
“The people who realized the burial was a diversion,” she said, stepping back toward the entrance of the unit. “They tracked your phone’s GPS the moment you turned onto Route 9.”
Before I could process her words, the headlights of two heavy SUVs cut through the darkness near the facility entrance, blinding us as they turned slowly down the narrow aisle toward Unit 17. The low rumble of their engines sounded like a distant threat coming to life.
Vance pulled her weapon, her face hardening into an expression of intense focus. She grabbed the silver drive from the table and shoved it hard into my jacket pocket.
“Listen to me carefully, Julian,” she said, her voice razor-sharp. “Your father isn’t dead, but he will be if they get this drive. Inside that folder on the table is an address in upstate New York. A cabin near the border. That is where he is waiting for you.”
“What about you?” I asked, my breathing rapid and shallow.
“I’m going to draw them away from the main gate,” she said, stepping into the dim light outside the doorway. “Take the back service exit behind this row of units. Do not use the main road. Do not look back.”
She did not wait for my response. Vance moved swiftly out into the open, firing three controlled shots into the air to draw the attention of the approaching vehicles. Tires screeched against the gravel as the dark SUVs veered toward her position, their high beams sweeping wildly across the metal walls.
I didn’t think. Instinct took over. I grabbed the folder from the table, gripped the brass key tightly in my fist, and ran through the shadows toward the rear fence, the sound of shouting and gunfire breaking the silence of the night behind me.
As I climbed over the chain-link barrier and disappeared into the treeline, my father’s voice echoed in my head, not from a memory of childhood, but from the realization of the sacrifice he had endured for twenty years. He was out there in the dark, waiting for the son he had spent a lifetime protecting. And for the first time in my life, I was going to find out who my father really was.
