53

The next two places were just as much a bust as the first two, the only difference in her surveillance being that the weather had gotten steadily worse, slowing her to almost a crawl. The visibility continued to deteriorate as the storm crept across the lake.

Dayla’s windshield wipers beat furiously against the blowing snow. The two yellow beams of her headlights didn’t even reach as far as the next car ahead of her, which was only discernable because of the red taillights against the whiteness. If she had been worried about David recognizing her vehicle, she hadn’t needed to. The snow was taking care to camouflage everything.

The last property was off Fuhrmann Boulevard, backing to Lake Erie itself. Lauren knew the building; she passed it every time she drove on Route 5 into the southtowns. It sat next to a small marina, shuttered up until the weather broke. Driving by, she’d see the boats taken out of the water for the winter, lining the parking lot, set high on trailers with what looked like blue Saran wrap over them. Next to that was the parking lot for the warehouse.

The warehouse itself was huge; giant compared to the other businesses scattered around it. Unlike most cities on the Great Lakes, Buffalo’s waterfront property wasn’t developed into high-rise apartments or cute retail shopping strips. Old factories, abandoned grain elevators, and random boat launches made up much of the coastline just south of downtown.

She tried to make out the outline of the building as she turned down the access road into the parking lot that spread out behind the building, which should have had a spectacular view of the lake. Instead, all she could see was a great expanse of churning gray water topped with blowing white snow.

This had to be the place.

It was the only place left.

Lauren hoped she parked far enough back that her headlights would be obscured by the snow. The wind surely would cover the sound of the engine.

Putting the Escalade in park, she patted herself down: cell phone, flashlight, and gun. She’d leave her portable radio in the car. She had no intention of calling for backup.

Not now.

She pulled her cell phone out, fiddled with it for a second, and dropped it back in the front pocket of Ethan’s jacket.

As Lauren got out of Dayla’s SUV, the force of the wind hit her full in the face. The snow was blowing off the lake sideways, smacking into the old brick warehouse and swirling upward. Ethan’s army jacket was as useful as tissue paper against that kind of cold. Still, she zipped it closed to the neck, tucked her head down, and tramped toward the side of the building.

It was time to end this game once and for all.