Sarah didn’t answer. Her jaw was set, eyes locked on the road as it narrowed into two lanes and then one. The tracker guided them down a stretch of pavement that felt forgotten—bare trees, gray sky, no houses, no cell towers, nothing that looked like help. Then the dot slowed. Stopped. Eleanor’s hands went cold around the tablet. “They’re not moving.”
Sarah eased off the gas. “That means they’re close.” They rounded a bend and the road dipped slightly—and there it was: a white van ahead, plain and unmarked, turning off into a long private drive that disappeared into the trees. It wasn’t speeding. It didn’t need to. It turned like it owned the road. Eleanor’s breath hitched. “That’s them.”