Page 102 of Tempest’s Torment

I look at Rogue. "He's with them."

"Yeah."

"So stop treating him like the PI who did the groundwork and got out."

Rogue's eyes meet mine. "He didn't get out."

"No." I look at the frozen image of Marcus Webb. "He was part of this from the fucking start."

Ghost turns to Rogue. "Get everything on Webb. Family, friends, property, schools, fucking parking tickets. I want to know why he's still helping Calloway when there's no fucking job left to do."

"On it."

Lorenzo sends the pickup details to his people, and Sniper drags the map closer.

I stay where I am, looking at Lilah. Twenty-three minutes, they're twenty-three minutes ahead of us, that's all. She’s not gone, she’s not lost, just ahead of us.

I pull a chair over beside Rogue. "Tell me what you need."

He glances at me. "Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Stop breathing down my fucking neck."

For the first time since I heard Lilah say Evan's name through my phone, something almost resembling a laugh catches in my chest.

I step back. "Better?"

"No."

I raise my finger and flip him off. "Fuck you."

"Love you too." His fingers never stop moving, but then again, neither do the rest of us.

I keep my gaze on the screen, where Lilah’s image is still frozen, while Rogue continues to work. “Don’t give up, baby, I’m coming. I promise, I’m coming,” I whisper.

About twenty minutes later, Rogue suddenly stops, not slows, stops.

I straighten. "What?" He doesn't answer me. "Rogue."

"I found something."

Every head in the apartment turns. Ghost moves first. "What?"

Rogue spins the laptop around. "Property outside New Haven, about twenty minutes inland. Bought eleven years ago by a Margaret Webb."

"Who is she?" I ask.

"Marcus' mother."

My pulse kicks. "And?"

"She died six years ago, property transferred to him after her death."

"Why didn't it come up before?"

"Because I've been looking for Calloway connections. This isn't one." He taps the screen. "It's Webb's."