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Jeremy’s phone buzzed almost as soon as they began their final approach to Flagstaff Pulliam Airport. He drew the iPhone out of his pocket and looked down at the screen. The number was completely unfamiliar — he didn’t even recognize the area code — but he went ahead and opened his messaging app just in case it wasn’t some kind of spam.
Just five words, but they were enough.
They’re taking me to Spearfish.
God bless Sloane’s resourcefulness. Clearly, she’d managed to borrow someone else’s phone to get the message out, probably because Garrett had confiscated hers.
Where the hell was Spearfish?
He went to his browser and did a quick search. Okay — northwest South Dakota, not far from Deadwood. Definitely in Walker territory, and sort of out in the middle of nowhere. Spearfish was a
