Page 18 of Peak’s Code

Peak frowned. "That's your phone?"

"It's the only one I trust." She handed it to him. "I've never connected it to the internet." Peak turned it over, studying it.

“I don’t understand what this old phone has to do with them finding you,” he said.

"I don't carry smartphones. I don’t have GPS, Bluetooth, or Wi-Fi. Nobody should be able to track me electronically."

Peak nodded. "That’s smart."

"Usually,” she said, putting the phone back in her pocket. "But they still found me."

He looked at her. "Meaning they didn't use technology."

She nodded. "They used people who told them where I was."

Peak's pulse quickened. “You think that there is a leak at the Grave Prowlers?” he asked. He hated that idea. Those men were his brothers, and if someone was leaking information to the government, then they were all in trouble.

"That’s exactly what I think."

"Someone on the outside must have seen you and reported back to the government,” he insisted.

"I've been careful,” she insisted. "I've changed names, changed cities, changed vehicles, and slept in truck stops, motels, and even in campgrounds. I never stay anywhere more than two nights."

Peak admired the discipline. It wasn't amateur survival. She was trained by someone to go underground. "You've done this before."

"I had good teachers,” she admitted.

"Were they also government?" he asked.

She smiled at him. “That’s classified.”

He laughed. "You don't have to say it out loud. I already have my answer."

A low rumble echoed through the tunnel, catching Peak’s attention. It wasn’t an explosion, but a vehicle. Peak killed his flashlight, allowing the darkness to swallow them. They both froze as the rumble grew louder above them.

"They're driving overhead," Maeve whispered. Peak listened. If he was correct, it was one vehicle, maybe two, and they were driving slowly as though searching for them. A faint mechanical buzzing sounded overhead, and his eyes narrowed.

"It’s another drone." Maeve heard it too. The sound drifted across the marsh directly above them and then stopped. Neither moved. Several agonizing seconds passed before the buzzing faded.

Peak let out the breath he'd been holding. "They're looking for heat signatures."

Maeve nodded. "We're underground, so ours must have been masked—for now."

His phone vibrated, and this time it wasn't Captain. The caller ID simply read:

Unknown

Peak frowned. "No signal should reach down here." He answered anyway, and a calm male voice filled the other end of the call.

"You've made this much harder than it needed to be, Maeve."

Peak's blood ran cold. "Who is this?"

"I think Maeve already knows." Peak glanced at Maeve. Her face had gone completely white, and the man chuckled. "Tell Maeve—” He paused as if for dramatic effect. "Her sister is still alive." Every muscle in Maeve's body locked, and Peak slowly put the phone on speaker. The stranger continued. "But not for much longer."

Maeve

The call disconnected, and silence filled the tunnel. Maeve's knees buckled, but Peak caught her before she hit the ground. She wasn't crying or screaming. She simply stared into the darkness. For eighteen months, she'd had hope, and now, someone had confirmed the one thing she'd feared most—Wren was alive. Which meant every day Maeve had spent searching, her sister had been waiting, and now their enemies knew exactly who had taken up her cause.