I turned off the map light.

The truck stop was quiet, save for the low rumble of the diesel engines.

I looked out the side window.

A security camera on a high pole scanned the parking lot, its red light blinking.

“We need to go there,” I said.

“They will be waiting for us on the highway,” Eleanor said.

“Then we won’t use the highway,” I said.

I shifted the SUV back into gear and drove toward the dirt road behind the truck wash.

The headlights cut through the dark, revealing piles of old tires and rusted metal drums.

I steered the vehicle onto a gravel path that ran parallel to the state route.

The ride was rough, the chassis shaking as we bounced over the ruts.

In the rearview mirror, I watched the lights of the highway recede.

The desert lay ahead of us, a vast, silent expanse of black.

I picked up my phone and dialed a secure line.

The call rang twice before a sharp, familiar voice answered.

“Colonel Richards,” Captain Miller said.

Miller was the lead investigator for the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division in the western region.