They drove across town to wait for Jürgen Van Cleeve to make an appearance at the convenience store he frequented, stopping and piling out at a coffee shop to fuel everyone up and pass what time they could. They all wanted to avoid being trapped in the van any longer than necessary.

Bethalie downed a frozen coffee drink, which wasn't nearly as good as Evyn's, and was force fed her weight in muffins and cookies before they all piled back in and made the trek to the seedier side of the Waterfront District, parking across the street from the little convenience store, which had quite a lot of foot traffic moving in and out.

"How are you going to recognize him without a photograph?" Mace inquired.

"He'll probably be the only Vampire in the market," Bethalie stated, watching the small horde of Daylighters coming and going.

"Where do we go if the friends really don't know anything? Or won't tell you anything?" Evyn asked.

"I'll figure that out when it happens." Hopefully it wouldn't because if it did...she was screwed. She had no idea what she was doing as it was. If she hit a dead end this quickly, it was all over.

"Maybe I should talk to this guy, Bethalie," Noah offered. "If he's a fighter—"

"Noah, I can take care of myself!" she hissed, wanting to whip out her baton and give his skull a beating. "I've managed to stay alive and do my job just fine before you showed up and I'll continue to do my job and stay alive well after you're gone!"

Noah looked at her, his hazel eyes showing the faintest trace of hurt. "I was going to say that after the incident with William Black, it might not be wise for you to get upset out in public. There are a lot of Daylighters who'll be watching."

She waved his words away, annoyed. "I'll be fine, thank you. I can control myself! I'm not a rabid animal!" Actually, she wasn't so sure that she could control herself, but she didn't need anyone doing her job for her!

"Bethalie, that might be Jürgen," Evyn stated, pointed out of the windshield.

Bethalie followed Evyn's finger to find a tall, thin man with a long leather coat and long, flowing blonde hair walking toward the convenience store. He might not be Jürgen Van Cleeve, but he was definitely a Vampire. The cool factor was unmistakable.

She was out of the van and moving across the street before anyone had a chance to argue. The Vampire stopped just down from the building to wait for a young woman and her two small children to move out his way, giving Bethalie time to get into place and meet him at the door. Noah was one step behind her.

"Jürgen Van Cleeve?" she asked as the man sauntered toward her.

He stopped, his eyes raking over her with a measure of harshness and dismissal. "Leave me be, Ward. I've done nothing to warrant a visit from the likes of you," he said in a slightly muddled accent that had probably been German at some point in history.

"I need to ask you some questions about Adam Turner and Jack Dunning. I understand they're friends of yours," she said, preparing to go for her batons. This Vampire did not give off the vibe of friendliness and fellowship.

"I'll not do your job for you, Ward. If you're hunting them, do it on your own," he said, making a move to step past her.

She put an arm out, blocking his way. "You can go about your business after you've answered my questions."

Jürgen eyed her as if she was little more than a fly pestering him. He didn't even seem to notice Noah, who was so close he was practically breathing down her neck. "How do you plan on making me answer these questions? There are Daylighters crawling all over the place. You won't draw attention by fighting with me."

Actually, she just might. Her hands closed around her baton handles, but Noah was suddenly in front of her, standing toe to toe with Jürgen.

"You can answer the questions willingly, you piece of common dross, or I'll chase you down once you leave here and you can answer the questions...unwillingly." Noah was dangling the dare in front of Jürgen's face. "The choice is yours.  And I'd choose carefully, if I were you."

Jürgen glared at Noah for a second and then, with a flash of black trench coat, he was gone, and so was Noah.

Bethalie instantly went into hunting mode, her belly causing her feet to carry her across the street and through the connecting alleyway. It occurred to her that she could barely hear her footsteps on the ground as she ran because...they were drowned out by the wind rushing past, howling in her ears. Her legs were pumping and her blood was surging and she could feel her gut tugging her along, through alleyways and down side streets. She very quickly lost her bearings because everything around her melted into a blur of color and shapes that she couldn't hope to identify, yet that didn't slow her pace.

She was fast. Damned fast as she followed her gut and...the faint sound of heavy footsteps in the distance. She could hear them past the wind, if she concentrated hard enough. Two sets, hitting the ground hard and moving at lightning speed.

She was aware of the blocks falling away behind her as her body raced along, following the sound of those barely audible footsteps...which she realized had suddenly stopped. She felt herself bank a hard left and then an instant later a sharp right and then she slammed to a halt hard enough to jar her insides and blur her vision. The world righted itself a second later, and she just...awoke...to find herself striking Jürgen Van Cleeve with her batons, landing blows to his knees and ankles so quickly his only recourse was to stumble backwards to try and get away from her.

Knowing he would try to fight back at the first opportunity, she kept striking him, hammering his shoulders and landing swift blows to the side of his head. With a growl, Jürgen went down onto his knees, allowing her to strike a blow to his face with one baton while dropping the other and pulling out her .45. She fired one quick shot, hitting his left thigh, the muffled rapport overshadowed by Jürgen's anguished bellow. He crumpled sideways, clutching his leg, his hands instantly covered with the blood that poured from the wound.

One silver tipped bullet in the leg wouldn't kill him instantly. It would hurt like hell and bleed him out eventually, unless it was cauterized, but in the meantime it would keep him down so she could question him.

"You shot me!" Jürgen roared, his teeth out and his eyes pale.

"You were given options, Jürgen. You chose the wrong one," she pointed out, holstering her gun and retrieving her baton.

"I'll bleed to death!" he growled, puffs of smoke and gushes of blood oozing out from between his fingers.

Bethalie caught a quick whiff of that maddening scent, which overrode the whiff of sizzling flesh, and quickly took a few steps backward, not wanting to get distracted. "I'll fix your wound if you'll tell me what I want to know. Co-operate or die. It's your choice," she said hoarsely, putting her batons away with suddenly trembling hands.

Jürgen let out an angry roar. "Ask your damnable questions!"

"Adam Turner and Jack Dunning spent time with you at Stoney's Pub, yes? You and they huddled around, sharing stories about the latest offenses you'd committed?"

Jürgen let out a gruff, garbled snarl that sounded like an admission, albeit a rather cantankerous one.

"Well, then.  Hear me out on this, Jürgen.  I think you found out that both of them were conspiring to turn you and your other buddies into the Narc-line for a little cash, so you decided to snuff them," she chucked that out there, just to see what it would yield up.

"Snuff them!" Jürgen spat as he stared up at her in disgusted disbelief. "You've gone mad, Ward! Why would I put them down over a bunch of lies and tall-tales!"

"Tall tales? What do you mean?" she asked, pulling out her Bowie knife.

"I mean a few of us gather at Stoney's and spin yarns about offenses that we may or may not have committed! We drink, we brag about who we've bedded and who we've fed from. But, mostly it's all just bullshit!"

Hmmm. Interesting. "That may be, but if Turner or Dunning were thinking of turning you in, or maybe running their mouths to other people who might not know that the stories were just bullshit, you still would have needed to shut them up. Otherwise, you'd have me on your ass."

"Bah!" he hissed, cringing in pain. "I'm not a newly borne, Ward! I'm aware of how it works! There's an investigation done for every claim that's phoned in! The manure that comes out of our mouths can't get us put down! If even half of it was true, there'd be drained Daylighters strewn throughout the streets! If someone put them down, it was not me! And I doubt it was one of the others!"

Well, the stories they were telling each other might be manure, but she wasn't sure that everyone in the group was aware of that. Timid Lance Morgan feared he'd be killed for the things he'd heard...or done. Even if some of his tales were fallacious, he surely believed his friends' tales were true. So, perhaps Lance wasn't as harmless as he appeared.

If he feared his friends were blabbing and he thought they were going to bring him down, he could have reacted. Maybe draining them and leaving them in the open was a way to throw off suspicion. Of course, why leave them lying around at all? There were a thousand ways to make a body disappear. And no one would ever go looking for a couple of missing Vampires. Especially if their names had come across her desk and word was out that she was on the hunt for them.

And since their names had indeed come across her desk, then obviously some of the tall tales being told at Stoney's Pub weren't as baseless as the Vampire writhing at her feet was claiming.

"I don't believe all the stories your friends tell are bullshit, Jürgen. I was given their names for a reason," she said easily. "So, I'm thinking you're withholding information to protect yourself and your buddies. And that's another wrong choice." That stated, she started to turn and walk away.

"Their stories are as bogus as mine!" Jürgen shouted at her, a slight hint of desperation in his deep voice. "They weren't on your list over anything they bragged about! Whatever their real offenses, they were turned in because they weren't careful enough! No one is ever careful enough! That's why you have a job!"

"So, you're saying that you brag about things you don't actually do, but then you go out and commit real offenses that you never talk about? That's...absolutely fucking stupid," she quantified, thinking that she would never truly understand the male psyche.

"I don't commit offenses! I don't do anything that can get me put down! What the others do is none of my business. I don't ask, they don't tell. But, if there are real offenses being committed, none of us are stupid enough to speak of them in the middle of a bar filled with drunkards who'd probably turn in their sire for an extra dollar!"

Well, this was getting complicated.

"Have you heard Adam or Jack speak of any activities other than committing these non-existent offenses? Have they mentioned going to the same bars or clubs or hanging out with the same people?"

"Haven't you been listening! Anything said in our group is most likely a lie!" he hissed at her.

"Still, have you heard them dropping the same names? Were they bragging about bedding the same women?" She'd take anything at that point.

Jürgen let out a growl of frustration. "The...the only thing that comes to mind is The Warehouse. They both claimed to have gotten lucky trolling for females there, but as I said, the stories are mostly manure! But, that's all I can tell you!"

"You could have told me all this to start with," she said, annoyed. "There was no need to make me shoot you."

"I'm not in the habit of stooling to a Ward!" he snapped at her.

It was the age old story. No one wanted to help the White Hats.

"Are you going to help me or let me die?" Jürgen demanded, his pale skin several shades whiter.

She should have left him to die just for being an ass...but she couldn't. With a sigh, she moved forward, but was brought up short by the scent of his blood. It hit her in the face, making her breath halt and her body tense. She could feel her mouth watering, which repulsed her on some level.

"Ward!" Jürgen barked.

She tried to move forward. She wanted to. But, that velvety scent filling her nostrils and the look of the glistening ruby pool on the concrete were too...tempting. She just couldn't get any closer.

"Bethalie, hand me the knife," Noah said, finally getting involved. "I'll do it."

She couldn't argue. There was no way she was willing to get closer. She handed Noah the knife, handle first, and he went to Jürgen, quickly tearing the jeans away from the wound and pressing the blade to the flesh. Jürgen howled in anguish as his wound was cauterized and Bethalie backed away several yards to avoid the scent of scorched flesh...as well as to put some distance between herself and that enticing pool of liquid spreading out over the ground.

Taking a brief moment to glance around and get her bearings, she pulled out her phone and hit the Walkie App. "Evyn?"

"I'm here," Evyn's voice said.

"Bring the van to the lot behind Nick's Restaurant and on the way, stop at the nearest pharmacy for a couple of bottles of Stat." She couldn't leave a half dead Vampire to fend for himself. He'd be forced to feed on the first person who crossed his path.

"We'll be right there. Out."

Noah finished with Jürgen and left him writhing on the ground to come join her. He handed the knife to her, obviously glad to be rid of it. "Well, that was a lot of work and fuss for practically nothing."

She nodded. That was usually how it went. Although, it wasn't quite for nothing. So far, she'd found out that William Black and Jürgen Van Cleeve most likely had nothing to do with the murders of their friends. Her gut was telling her that those two were being truthful when they professed their innocence. Of course, she'd also felt that Lance Morgan's denial had held the ring of the truth...though now she was questioning that assessment.

"You kept up with us," Noah said casually, as if it was no big deal.

"I did," she answered in the same tone.

"You're still controlling yourself, though, so that's a win," he said, trying to put a bright spin to it.

"I am." She wasn't lapping up the pool of blood on the pavement, so she would agree that was a win.

"This might turn out to be a boon to your line of work," Noah offered by way of being hopeful.

"It might," she said. It had to be, actually. She certainly couldn't allow it to be a detriment or she'd have no line of work.

There was no conversation for a short length of time and Bethalie kept a sharp eye on Jürgen to make sure he was still on the ground...and to give herself something to do other than look at Noah because...the more she focused on his ruggedly handsome face, the more beautiful he seemed to become. And that fact...filled her with more than a bit of unease.

"Do you hate me?" Noah asked, his coarse voice finally breaking the thick silence. "I mean, for doing who knows what to you?"

She considered that question. She hated that this had happened to her. She hated that she'd had to put down Noah's sister when her own family could have done it instead, which had led to this happening to her.

But, she couldn't say that she hated Noah Grey.

"No. I don't hate you." It could have something to do with the whole sire-bond thing. Or that he'd saved her life. Either way, she didn't hate him. Although, neither did she particularly like him.

There was another stretch of silence...and all she could do was try to ignore the scent of blood that carried on the wind.

"I'm not going to be able to walk away and forget about you," Noah said, putting that out there for her.

"I'm aware," she answered.

Truthfully, it was clear from the first that he'd set his sights on her. And when a Vampire set his sights on a girl, he never just walked away. A blood bond only sealed the deal. Something about her had drawn his attention and even though he'd fed her to keep her alive, she had a feeling that had it not come to that, he still might have tried to find a way to sire her, given enough time. That's what Vampires did. They chose a mate on sight and that was that. There was no talking them out of it or changing their minds. The chosen girl had herself a Vampire mate, like it or not.

She'd been well aware of all those factors and in the back of her mind, she'd been prepared to kill to make sure that Bethalie Sanderson remained a single lady. But, she hadn't counted on nearly dying, which had allowed him to...seal her fate.

Of course, the death of the sire was the one thing that would release a chosen mate from her bond...

"Are you going to come to hate me because of this?" Noah wondered quietly.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," she stated truthfully.

She might come to hate him because of what he'd done to her, but she doubted it. He'd spared her life and ensured that she lived to work another day. However, even though she might not hate him, that didn't mean she wouldn't eventually give him a bath in her Mix. She had no intentions of settling down behind a white picket fence with her very own Vampire lover. If the situation started to truly interfere with her work...Noah Grey would be ended.

"Don't look so down. If my father has his way we'll both be dead soon, so you won't have long to deal with our little...issue," he said casually.

"Well, that's a plus, isn't it?" she said back.

"So, where do we go from here? Should we check out this Warehouse or should we go back and try Lance Morgan? He was mighty skittish for someone whose friends are all talking a lot of shit," Noah said, switching subjects.

"If most of their talk is shit, those two might never have been at The Warehouse. I hunted them both and the place never came up," she stated. "But, we have to check out every lead, so we'll hit it and see what we can see."

Letting something go that seemed useless and insignificant could mean the difference between catching her targets and losing them, so she would go to The Warehouse, even though it was probably a waste of time.

"Those clubs usually don't open until late, so I think you should take the time to have some food. Keeping your appetite satisfied might help you control your...other hunger," Noah suggested.

It might. But, she had her doubts. The desire to taste that velvety liquid didn't seem to come from her stomach. "What do you think would happen if I...gave in?" she wondered seriously.

"I really don't want to find out. At worst, you'd completely transition and have to go through the blood lust and the training to control it...and your career as a Ward would probably be cut short. At best, you'd still be only half, you'd just have a taste for blood."

Either option did not sound very appealing to her.

The van suddenly came careening into the small back lot, screeching to a halt a few feet away. Mace jumped out the passenger side door, rounding the van and handing the white paper bag to Noah. "What happened? Bethalie, are you hurt?"

"It's not us," she said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. "It's him. Is Evyn okay?"

"She's fine. She just got an e-mail from The Big Guys," Mace said as Noah turned and walked back toward Jürgen.

A line of fear zigzagged through Bethalie's belly. What if it was about Mace? What if they were coming for him? She couldn't hand him over to be put down. She wouldn't hand him over. She would just have to hide him until she could figure out what to do.

Bethalie spun around and walked over to Noah and Jürgen, stopping a few feet away. "Don't disappear Jürgen. I might need to talk to you again."

"I've told you everything I know, Ward," Jürgen grumped, finishing off his first bottle of Stat and taking the second from Noah.

"Just don't disappear. Making me chase you down again might try patience," she warned. "And go straight home from here. If you wind up hurting a Daylighter, its light out."

"Don't lecture me on the rules, Ward! I'm aware of them," he hissed, getting to his feet and opening the second bottle. "And I wouldn't be in this shape if you weren't trigger happy."

"You wouldn't be in this shape if you'd just answered a few simple questions in the first goddamned place," she shot back at him.

That said, she headed back to the van, hurrying to put some distance between herself and all the blood soaking the Vampire's clothing and staining the asphalt. It was incredibly hard to ignore the way the scent of that liquid landed on her tongue, filling her mind with urges that sickened her...yet simultaneously intrigued her.

Mace was waiting by the van and opened the door for her, offering her a hand in. She reached for it without thinking, only to have Noah swoop in from out of nowhere and elbow Mace aside, using himself as a shield between them.

"I will lend Bethalie assistance, Tuck! You'd do well to tend to your own woman!" he growled, lapsing into that old world way of speaking.

Mace let out an annoyed grump and Bethalie slid into her seat, making much the same sound. She was not really enjoying this Vampire territorial thing. Once Mace was in the back seat, Noah slammed the door and hurried to climb behind the wheel, revving the engine and peeling out down the street, all the while mumbling to himself in a low and cranky tone.

"What did the e-mail say, Evyn?" Bethalie asked, wanting to move past the fight over a territory that really didn't belong to anyone.

"You have a target. A vampire named Leonard Keith. He pulled a dine and dash, feeding on a woman at a red light and leaving her there in her car, half alive. I'm trying to find information on him right now," Evyn responded.

A wave of relief rolled over her. Thank god, it had nothing to do with Mace. But, she did have a new target. And she had to race to find him, just in case there happened to be someone else out there looking for him, too. After all, she had no proof that Turner and Dunning—who were both on her list—weren't put down by a rogue vigilante who could be intent on striking again at any moment.

That trumped trying to find out who killed the already dead Vampires.

"Alright, change of plans," she said coolly. "I'm hunting now, so you three have to go back to the loft. Noah, I need you to watch out for Mace and Evyn. Keep them safe."

Noah shot her a look of disbelief. "You understand that I'm not leaving you, right?"

"You have to go back the loft with them in case more of your men show up there," she said, trying to be reasonable. "Evyn and Mace can't protect themselves."

"My father's men," Noah corrected. "And Evyn and Tuck will be perfectly safe in the van."

"I have to hunt alone," she stated through her teeth. "I can't do my job with three people following me around. So, I need you to go back to the loft—"

"Bethalie, you aren't quite absorbing what's happening here. I will not be leaving you whether you're hunting or going out for a coffee. Not only might my father's men find you, but you're my responsibility now. You're mine to keep safe and I mean to see that you are kept safe."

She tried not to allow the anger that zipped through her, nor the want to whip out her batons and proceeded to batter Noah Grey's head into jelly while he was driving. That wouldn't accomplish anything other than causing the lot of them to die in a fiery crash.

"I am no one's responsibility," she said calmly, keeping her hands clutched firmly in her lap.

"Bethalie, you're beating your head against a wall and there's nothing to be gained but a headache," Noah tossed that little tidbit of wisdom at her. "I'm not leaving you. Expending energy fighting me is a waste, so you might as well accept the situation and get on with your work."

She couldn't beat him to death, but she could stab him. Just once or twice. Not enough to kill him or to cause him to kill them, but just enough to make him regret lecturing her and laying down rules. She went for her knife, but a hand clamped down onto her shoulder.

"Bethalie, no! Don't!" Evyn begged her. "I want Noah to stay with you! He needs to be wherever you are! Without him you'd be dead right now! So, just stop fighting him. Please!"

Et tu, Evyn?

Why did everyone suddenly think that she could not fend for herself? Just because a few thugs had caught her by surprise and had killed her for a few minutes didn't mean that she couldn't carry on with business as usual!

"Please, Bethalie. Let him help! You promised," Evyn beseeched.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

She loved Evyn like family and Evyn was using that against her! How underhanded was that!

"Just do it for me, Bethalie," Evyn said, sitting back in her seat and looking at Bethalie with big, watery brown eyes.

Damn.

Bethalie settled into her own seat and folded her arms across her chest. She hated every one and she hated every single thing.

"Good. Now that's settled, where am I heading?" Noah questioned.

"I have an address and photo from the DMV database," Evyn stated. "It's listed at 106 Pendleton Place. It's an apartment on the East side."

If Leonard Keith knew his name had been turned into the Narc-line, he wouldn't be there. And of course he would know because an investigation had been done into the claim before his name was given to her. That typically gave her targets a head start.

However, this name wasn't associated with the group from Stoney's as far as she knew, so hopefully...hopefully...Leonard Keith wouldn't wind up drained and left to rot away in a dumpster. Rather, he'd wind up in a trough full of Mix. But, that was his punishment for cheating on his diet and causing an innocent person to have to be put down. For his offense, it wouldn't feel like justice unless she was the one to send him to whatever Hell might be waiting for him on the other side.

"Show me his picture," she said, her tone resigned. She had a job to do and any personal issues couldn't get in the way. No matter how annoying those issues might be.

Evyn held her computer up and Bethalie took a look at the long blonde hair, the brown eyes, the thin and handsome face that spoke of a blood line far removed from present day, sort of like Noah. She committed the face to memory, thinking it was a shame for someone who was so aged and had undoubtedly seen so much to have to be put down just because they were too weak to follow the rules. It was akin to burning a history book that was hand written and one of a kind. Once it was gone, all that history was gone with it.

Damned weak Vampires. They should have bigger balls!

Evyn directed Noah through the streets that were thick with late evening traffic, taking them over into the seamier side of town. The apartment was in a collection of brick buildings that had seen better days. There were a few cars in the large parking lot, but none that matched the description of the white Honda that Leonard had tags for.

Noah parked in front of building C and Bethalie jumped out. "Mace, watch out for Evyn," she stated, slamming the door and starting across the lot, her footsteps echoing through the stillness. This was a mostly human area, so she knew there wasn't much danger for her, yet Noah was still right behind her.

"You could have stayed in the van. There's no way he's in there," she pointed out.

"I could have, but I didn't," Noah said casually, walking with his hands in his pockets.

She heaved a sigh and continued on toward the building, trying to ignore him, but it was hard to ignore a gorgeous 6'3 Vampire with hair that tousled in the non-existent breeze and who was also practically glued to her hip.

The inside of the dilapidated building was dimly lighted and smelled of stale food and cigarette smoke. The building was pretty large and it took several minutes of searching to find apartment 35B...on the third floor of a building which had no elevator. Bethalie stood outside the dirty metal door for a few seconds, listening for any sign of life. There was a TV blaring down the hall and a baby crying somewhere on the floor above, but she couldn't hear anything from inside 35B.

"No one's in there. No one living anyway," Noah said.

"I still have to check," she told him, figuring she couldn't kick in a metal door so instead reaching for her set of lock pick tools.

"Allow me," he said, stepping in and taking hold of the knob. He gave it a hard twist while simultaneously hitting the door with his shoulder and with the loud screech of metal and a sharp crack of the wooden door frame, he was pushing the door open.

Well, having Noah around might prove to be slightly useful after all.

Noah went into the apartment first, blocking her entrance until he was satisfied that it was safe for her to enter. Once she was allowed into the dim space that held little more than a sofa, a TV, and a lamp, she switched on the overhead light and glanced around. Noah was already heading through the door of the bedroom, so she went toward the kitchen, which looked like it had never been used. The fridge held a few bottles of Stat, the cabinets were all bare, which wasn't surprising.

There was a stack of mail on the kitchen counter that she leafed through, consisting of bills and junk-mail and a newspaper from two days ago. At a guess, Leonard Keith hadn't been home in at least two days, giving him that long to get himself underground.

"It seems like a lot of clothes are in the closet and the dresser, so he either packed light or left in hurry with just the clothes on his back. He didn't even take his toothbrush," Noah said, coming into the living room. "But, I did find this on the night table."

He handed her a white paper napkin with The Warehouse printed across it in black foil letters. There was a handwritten phone number scribbled on it.

"How popular is this Warehouse?" Noah wondered, leafing through the mail.

"It's just a club. Nothing special. A lot of Daylighters have started going there, so most of the Darksiders have moved on," she said.

"But, not all of them," Noah stated.

No. Not all of them. Not the two Vampires who'd turned up dead, if Jürgen was to be believed, and not Leonard Keith.

Pulling out her cell, she dialed the number on the napkin and listened to the ringing. On the fifth ring, a recorded message announced that voice mail had not been set up for the number, so Bethalie ended the call, pocketed her phone, and headed for the door.  Time to get on to the next lead. Back down the three flights of stairs and out into the parking lot they went. In the van, Noah climbed behind the wheel and sped them away from the complex.

"Tell me what you've got, Evyn," she said, hoping it was something worthwhile. It prickled at her that Leonard had left everything in his apartment. When someone ran, they rarely went totally empty handed, especially if they couldn't afford to buy the things they needed to survive on.

"I've found his place of employment," Evyn answered, her computer keys clicking away. "He works at a gas station a couple of miles from here."

She gave Evyn the napkin with the phone number on it. "We'll start there. I hope you guys are ready for a long night."

With that warning hanging in the air, they were on the hunt.