He called back three times over the next two hours.
Each time it rang once and disconnected. Not voicemail. Not a busy signal. One ring and silence, like someone on the other end was watching the screen and making a deliberate choice not to answer.
Hunter put the phone down after the third attempt and thought about what that pattern meant. Someone who knew enough to send the message but was not ready to have the conversation. Someone testing whether he would reach back.
He would reach back. He had reached back three times in two hours. That was enough for now.
He went back to Varren Road.
The state safety record had given him the facility name. Dayo had the event date and the grid signature. What Hunter needed was the name of someone who had been on the floor that morning eight months
