The ordinary channels we would normally trust were compromised.
Dana placed the phone on the table.
"Until we know more, all communication about June's location will go through a restricted contact list. The state team will handle the protective placement, and nobody outside that list will receive the destination."
"What about Nora?" I asked.
"She's agreed to come here for an interview. We'll arrange a separate safe location for her if necessary."
As though summoned by the conversation, a car pulled into the driveway.
Nora emerged carrying a small overnight bag.
She looked exhausted, her silver hair tucked beneath a baseball cap. When she saw the damaged window, she stopped.
"Oh, God," she whispered.
I walked toward her.
"You all right?"
She nodded, though her eyes were wide.
"I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard that little girl asking whether she'd have to go back."
She looked at me.
"Did they hurt her?"
"Not last night."
Nora closed her eyes briefly.
"Thank God."
I took her bag and carried it inside.
Dana greeted her, explained the investigation, and asked her to describe what she had seen in the diner. Nora gave a precise account, including the conversation she had overheard between Dale and Deputy Pike.
She also remembered something none of us had noticed.
"When the deputy first arrived," she said, "Dale showed him his license. But before he handed it over, he said something like, 'You know who I am.'"
Dana's expression sharpened.
"You're certain?"
"Not of the exact words. But I remember thinking it was strange. Most people don't say that to a police officer unless they're trying to make an impression."
"And what happened afterward?"
"They spoke near the counter. Dale touched the deputy's arm. Then the deputy seemed to change his mind about everything."
Dana wrote the information down.
"Thank you. That's useful."
Nora looked toward the hallway.
"Can I see June?"
"She's resting with Rachel," I said. "We'll ask her first."
A few minutes later, June came into the kitchen holding Bunny.
When she saw Nora, she froze.
Then she remembered.
"You gave me water."
Nora's face softened.
"I did, sweetheart."
June walked over to her.
"Thank you."
Nora knelt and opened her arms, but she didn't pull the child toward her. June stepped into the embrace herself.
I turned away for a moment, pretending to check the coffee machine.
Some scenes were too personal to watch directly.
When June returned to the sofa, Dana approached me with a new expression.
"The digital team has opened part of the drive."
I followed her to the table.
"They found something?"
"Several documents referencing emergency transfers that were never recorded in the state registry. There are invoice numbers, vehicle identifiers, and a set of initials that may correspond to employees or contractors."
"Anything about Elena?"
"There's a file containing correspondence that appears to involve her supervisor. One message says she had discovered discrepancies and was refusing to return the originals."
"Who wrote it?"
"We're still verifying the account. But the message references a meeting at the Coyote Lantern."
I looked at the map.
"The old motel."
"Yes."
"Could that be where Dale took her?"
"It's possible."
"Then let's go there."
Dana shook her head.
"We're already sending investigators. Your role is to keep the club organized and the witnesses safe."
"I'm not asking to lead the investigation. I'm offering people who know the roads, the terrain, and the local businesses."
She considered that.
"That could be useful, but it has to be done properly."
"I can follow instructions."
Cole coughed.
I glared at him.
Dana almost smiled.
"All right. I want you and Cole to provide a list of riders familiar with the area. No one goes anywhere until we coordinate. We may need assistance identifying routes or businesses, but law enforcement will handle the search."
"Agreed."
For the next hour, we assembled a small team.
Ben would remain with June and the caseworker. Cole and I would accompany Dana's investigators to the public road near the Coyote Lantern. Two riders who had worked as tow-truck drivers in the area would help identify the property and service entrances.
The rest of Iron Vale would leave in smaller groups, just as Dana had requested, keeping the charity ride intact while avoiding unnecessary attention.
Before we departed, I visited June.
She sat at a table drawing a picture.
It showed a house with a red roof, a woman in a blue dress, and a tiny girl holding a brown rabbit. Beside the house, she had drawn a yellow sun with a smile.
"That's pretty good," I said.
June looked up.
"That's our house."
"Where is it?"
She pointed to the drawing.
"With Mommy."
I sat beside her.
"Do you remember the address?"
She shook her head.
"That's okay."
She looked at the door.
"Are you going to find her?"
"We're going to look for her."
"Can I come?"
"Not this time."
Her shoulders fell.
"Why?"
"Because the place we're checking might not be safe. We need you to stay here with Rachel and Ben while we find out what's there."
June was quiet.
Then she asked, "What if you don't find her?"
I looked at the little house on the paper.
"Then we'll keep looking."
She studied me for a long time, as though searching for the moment when my words might turn into another broken promise.
Finally, she nodded.
I left the room with the weight of her trust pressing against my chest.
As we drove toward the Coyote Lantern, the desert spread around us beneath a hard blue sky. Our motorcycles followed the state investigators' vehicles at a respectful distance. We passed gas stations, storage yards, and a closed roadside attraction whose faded dinosaurs had lost most of their paint.
The old motel stood beside a gravel turnout, its sign leaning slightly toward the road.
COYOTE LANTERN.
Most of the windows were boarded up. The office door had a rusted padlock, and weeds grew through cracks in the walkway.
But fresh tire tracks crossed the dust near the rear entrance.