Chapter 26 #2
"Hey, you guys..." Tom's voice cut through the quiet conversation. "I found something."
Everyone moved to the table immediately, forming a circle around his laptop.
Tom turned the screen toward them, his expression serious. "The phone had GPS tracking enabled. I pulled the location history from the past month before David disappeared. This popped up from 3 days ago."
A map appeared on the screen showing red dots clustered in several locations around Haven Cove. The warehouse where they'd just been. Downtown Haven Cove. The marina and docks.
And one location twenty miles north with a dense concentration of points that drew Gabe's attention immediately.
"What is that?" Cara asked, leaning closer to study the satellite view.
Tom zoomed in on the location. A small cluster of buildings appeared along a lonely stretch of highway, surrounded by forest and industrial decay.
"The Rusty Anchor," Wade said, recognition in his voice. "Tavern in Granger Point."
"David's phone pinged there repeatedly over a two-week period," Tom said, pulling up detailed timestamps. "Multiple times daily. Always brief visits, ten to fifteen minutes. Pattern suggests he was getting supplies, checking in, maybe using their WIFI."
Gabe leaned closer, studying the pattern. The pings at the warehouse had stopped three weeks ago. Then nothing for a week. Then the tavern pings started and continued for two weeks.
"He moved operations," Gabe said, understanding dawning. "Set up the warehouse camp initially, realized Haven Cove was too hot with the cops on payroll, relocated twenty miles north to Granger Point."
"Makes sense," Wade said. "Close enough to observe dock activity, far enough to stay off local radar."
"Last ping at the tavern was three days ago," Tom added, his finger tracing the data. "Then nothing until we found the phone at the warehouse tonight."
Cara's eyes widened with understanding. "He went back. Three days ago he returned to the warehouse for some reason."
"And had to run before he could grab the phone," Gabe finished. His chest tightened. "Or left it deliberately. As a breadcrumb in case something happened."
"But why go back at all?" Piper asked. "If he'd relocated to Granger Point and felt safer there, why risk returning to a place he'd abandoned?"
Gabe stared at the unsent message still visible on the screen. *Meeting you at 0200.*
"The message to Ruiz," he said. "It's dated three weeks ago - the night David first disappeared from the warehouse. But what if they'd arranged another meeting? A follow-up after David gathered more evidence?"
"Ruiz's body was found three days ago," Reagan said, the timing clicking into place.
"Exactly." Gabe's stomach dropped. "David wouldn't have known Ruiz was dead. He returned to the warehouse to meet him, walked straight into whatever had just gone down."
The group fell silent, processing the terrible timing.
David had spent two weeks successfully hiding in Granger Point. Had been careful, methodical, safe.
Until he'd come back for a meeting with a man who'd already been murdered.
"His Land Cruiser," Reagan said finally, breaking the heavy silence. "The old Toyota he drove from Seattle. Where is it?"
Tom pulled up vehicle registration data. "1998 Land Cruiser. No GPS capability. And there are no traffic cameras on these coastal highways. He could have moved between locations without leaving any digital trail except the phone pings."
"The vehicle's either hidden near Granger Point," Wade said, "or they found it when they grabbed him."
The implications settled over the group like cold water.
David had been careful. Had moved locations when Haven Cove got too dangerous. Had maintained operational security for weeks.
Until he'd walked back into danger trying to meet a dead man.
"Granger Point," Wade continued, his knowledge too detailed for casual familiarity.
"Rough place. Had a fish processing plant and lumber mill before they both shut down ten, maybe twelve years ago.
Most people moved away. What's left is logger and dock worker crowd. Cash only. No questions asked."
Reagan nodded. "I've heard of it. The kind of place where you don't make eye contact and you pay your tab fast."
"Perfect place to stay invisible," Gabe said. "Close enough to observe Haven Cove's dock activity without being in Haven Cove itself."
Tom pulled up more satellite imagery showing the broader area. The abandoned fish processing plant and lumber mill sat on deteriorating docks jutting into the Pacific, maybe a mile from the tavern. Industrial infrastructure left to rot.
"David was using the tavern as a base," Gabe continued, pieces falling into place. "Somewhere to get food, supplies, maintain some connection to civilization while staying off everyone's radar."
"And watching the operation from a safe distance," Cara added.
"But why stop going four days ago?" Piper asked. "If he was there multiple times a day for two weeks, why just...stop?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implications no one wanted to voice.
Gabe stared at the red dots clustered around The Rusty Anchor and felt certainty settle in his gut.
His brother had been there. Recently. Using that tavern as his lifeline while conducting surveillance.
Until something changed.
"I'm going tonight," Gabe said, the decision already made. "Someone at that tavern saw David. Maybe talked to him. Maybe knows where he went."
"What's your plan?" Tom asked.
Gabe studied the satellite imagery. "Arrive around twenty-two hundred. After dinner rush, before the crowd gets too drunk to remember anything useful. Sit at the bar. Order food. Observe."
"And then?" Reagan asked.
"If the opportunity presents itself, I show David's photo. Say I'm looking for a person of interest in connection with the Haven Cove murder investigation. Someone who might have information about Ruiz's death."
Wade's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "That's a dangerous play."
"That's the point," Gabe said. "If David's been there, someone knows something. I want them nervous. Want them making phone calls. Want to kick the hornet's nest and see what stings."
"You'll be walking into a bar full of people who might be connected to the smuggling operation," Cara pointed out, her voice tight. "With no backup."
"I'll have backup." He looked at Tom. "You'll monitor from here. Any sign of trouble, you call it in."
Tom nodded. "I can do that."
"And I'll have Detective Price on standby," Gabe continued. "He’s State Police, not local. Someone I trust who can respond if things go sideways."
The plan was solid. The kind of calculated risk his counter-intelligence work had taught him to take when gathering intelligence in hostile territory.
"We move at twenty-two hundred hours," Gabe said, finalizing the timeline.
The decision hung in the air like a challenge.