“I’m not sure about anything,” Nathan replied. “But if this is where it started, maybe this is where it ends.”
The shed was a sprawling, decaying structure, windows cracked or missing, fence half collapsed. A faint light flickered through the gaps.
They pushed the door open and stepped inside. Nathan’s flashlight swept across old crates, rusted tools, oil stains, and a filthy mattress shoved into a corner. On top of a box lay a scarf identical to Lauren’s, folded neatly.
“Lauren…” Nathan murmured, picking it up with shaking hands.
A metallic clank came from behind some stacked pallets. Nathan swung the beam toward the sound.
“Who’s there?”
A thin man stepped from the shadows: unshaven, clothes ragged, eyes darting nervously. Mike Darden.
He flinched when he recognized Nathan.
“Relax,” Mike muttered. “I don’t want trouble.”
“You’ve already got it,” Nathan said, moving closer. “Where is Lauren?”
Mike glanced around, spooked, as if he expected armed men to appear any second.
“She saved me,” he said in a low voice. “They cut her brakes. I was gonna warn you, but they got to me first. They were gonna kill me too. She told me to run. To disappear. She… got away however she could.”