Rain slicked the road as Cole Vance slowed on the side of an old stolen sedan at a red light on the bypass. The driver turned his head slightly. Vance’s breath caught. The face wasn’t identical, but close enough to hit the same nerve and pull him back two years.
Before he could blame exhaustion or old grief, Vance’s gaze stuck on something dangling right above the dashboard. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a small metal compass keychain, dull with scratches. His chest tightened. He knew its weight and shape. He had held it once.
That compass should’ve been in Adam’s car the night he died, but it had never been found. Certainty slipped away. He flipped on his lights and stepped out, already knowing this stop would not end like a normal arrest for an auto theft…