Dana noticed them.
So did I.
A vehicle had been here recently.
The tracks led around the building toward a service road that disappeared behind a low ridge.
Dana's officers photographed the area and called for additional support before entering the property. Nobody rushed in. Nobody treated a suspicion as a warrant.
I stood near the roadside and studied the surrounding terrain.
Beyond the ridge, an old freight depot stood beside a disused rail spur. It had once served a mining operation, but the tracks hadn't carried a train in years.
I pointed it out to Dana.
"That building has another access road. It connects to the county route behind the motel."
She looked at the map.
"How do you know?"
"I used to transport supplies through here for a veterans' program. We had to avoid the interstate during construction."
Dana studied the terrain.
"If someone wanted to move a person without being seen from the main road, that depot would be worth checking."
"Then check it."
"We will."
A radio call interrupted us.
One of the investigators had found a room at the rear of the motel with fresh signs of use. There were discarded water bottles, food wrappers, and a blanket on the floor.
No one was inside.
But another officer had found something outside the room.
A small piece of fabric caught on a nail near the doorway.
It was blue.
Dana looked at the photograph the officer sent.
"Do we know whether Elena was wearing blue?"
I remembered June's drawing.
A woman in a blue dress.
It could have meant nothing.
Or it could have been the one small detail a child had carried through a nightmare.
"We need to show June the photograph," I said. "Carefully. Without leading her."
Dana nodded.
"Agreed."
She turned toward the abandoned depot.
"There's one more thing. The drive contains a partial schedule of transfers. We think the people involved use abandoned properties as temporary stopping points. The Coyote Lantern may be one of several."
I looked at the dusty road leading toward the depot.
"Then there's a chance Elena is still nearby."
"Yes."
"And Dale may know we're here."
Dana's expression became serious.
"Which is why we're going to keep our movements controlled."
She spoke into her radio, requesting additional units and confirming that the property search would proceed under the appropriate authorization.
As the officers spread out, I noticed a vehicle parked far beyond the motel, near a bend in the road.
A black pickup.
It was too distant to identify the driver, and the vehicle moved away before we could get a clear look.
Dana watched it disappear.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then she said, "He wants us to know he's watching."
I looked toward the abandoned depot.
"Or he wants us to think he is."
She turned to me.
"What do you mean?"
I studied the tire tracks, the empty motel, and the road leading toward the freight yard.
"There's a difference between someone watching you and someone trying to make you look in the wrong direction."
Dana considered that.
Then she contacted the team searching the depot and told them to examine the surrounding terrain carefully, including any routes that might leave the property unseen.
The trap, if there was one, wasn't obvious yet.
But for the first time, I felt that we were no longer simply reacting to what Dale Rusk did.
We were beginning to understand how he thought.
And that meant we might finally be able to reach the person he'd spent so much effort hiding.
The search of the Coyote Lantern continued for nearly two hours.
Investigators photographed the rooms, collected discarded items, and checked the maintenance records for the property. A forensic team found traces of blood on a section of wall in the rear office, but there was no immediate way to determine whose blood it was or when it had been left.
No one found Elena.
The abandoned depot was even less promising.
Its main doors were secured with rusted chains, and the interior consisted of empty equipment bays, broken shelving, and a small office with collapsed ceiling tiles. The officers found signs that someone had recently driven through the property, but no one appeared to have stayed there for long.
Dana received the report without comment.
She stood beside the road, arms crossed, staring at the freight depot.
"They want us chasing empty buildings," she said.
"Maybe."
"You think there's another location?"
"I think Dale wouldn't use the same place twice if he knew we were looking."
Dana nodded.
"We've requested traffic-camera records from the nearest junctions. It may take time to identify the vehicles."
"Time is what he wants."
She looked at me.
"You're right about that."
A call came through her phone.
She listened carefully, then walked several steps away before speaking again. When she returned, her expression had changed.
"We have a problem."
"What kind?"
"The state placement team was contacted by someone claiming to represent the county. They requested June's transfer destination."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Who authorized the request?"
"No one. The team refused to provide the information and reported it immediately."
"Was the caller identified?"
"Not yet. The number appears to be associated with an office line, but that doesn't mean the call originated there."
I looked toward the road.
Dale had tried the community center, failed to reach June, and now someone was attempting to discover where she would be moved.
The question was whether they knew about the flash drive.
Or whether they were trying to retrieve June before she could provide more information.
Dana received another message and frowned.
"The digital team found a transfer reference associated with an address about twelve miles from here. The record was altered, but the original location may still be recoverable."
"Where?"
She showed me the map.
A service yard stood beyond the old rail line, near a cluster of industrial buildings that had once supported mining equipment and long-haul transport. Several small businesses still operated nearby, but one warehouse had been vacant for years.
"That location appears in three sets of records," Dana said. "We don't know what it means yet."
I studied the map.
"The access road runs behind the freight depot."
"Yes."
"Then it connects to the motel."
"Also yes."
I looked at her.
"Those places aren't separate. They're part of the same route."
Dana went still.
We were no longer looking at abandoned properties scattered across a large desert. We were looking at a network of locations linked by roads that avoided the main highway and could be used to move vehicles without passing heavily monitored intersections.
I pointed to a narrow road marked on the map.
"This one joins the service yard to the county route. If a vehicle came out from behind the warehouse, it could reach the interstate without passing the Coyote Lantern."