His phone yielded nine calls to a Charlotte-area number over the preceding two weeks. That number was traced to a prepaid burner—normally a dead end. But one call had been placed through a tower serving the gated community outside Charlotte, where Warren Aldridge lived. “A beginning,” Dellray told Voss.
In the glove compartment of his car was a manila folder: Satellite printouts of the cabin with annotated entry points and sight lines, a recently taken photo of Ryan on a Gatlinburg street, and a typed note read, “Confirm identification and proceed as previously discussed. Terms as agreed.” Dellray read it thrice, then photographed and bagged it.