56

Twelve hundred miles away from Mila Scott, Derek Mathers’s computer chimed. Even as he swiveled in his chair, he recognized the sound.

Mark Higgins’s cloud. Mila Scott’s phone.

Mathers brought up the cloud on his desktop. Three new pictures, just added. An old SUV, white and blue, at a gas station. A man cleaning his windshield. Climbing into the truck. Driving away. The man wore an army parka, the hood up. Mathers couldn’t make out much of his face save for a dark beard, couldn’t get a read on the truck’s license plate. Still, something about the man had piqued Mila Scott’s interest. But what?

Mathers opened the first picture, brought up the metadata. Uploaded to the cloud just minutes ago, he knew that already. But from where?

Mathers keyed the IP address into his search tool. Sat back and contemplated the results. Someplace called Norma’s Diner, Route 93, Anchor Falls, Montana.

“Anchor Falls.” Mathers brought up Google Maps. “Now where in the heck is that?”