"I'll get on it tonight," Dante said.
He left the room and I sat there with the map and gave it what it needed for the next hour, going through the route, the timing, the gaps in our coverage that had let two clean runs happen without us knowing. By the time I sat back the picture was clearer than it had been.
Vega was building toward something. The freight yard runs were not the end goal. They were practice. He was timing his crew, making sure everything was clean before he moved whatever he was actually planning to move. We had time, but not as much as the six weeks of quiet had made it seem.
I rolled the map and was reaching for my jacket when my phone vibrated on the table.
My father.
I picked up. "Dad."
"Noah." His voice was the same as it had always been. Even and direct, the v
