Zoe
Nobody slept much that night. I know I didn't, and judging by the low murmur of voices I heard through the clubhouse walls until well past two in the morning, I doubted anyone else did either. By the time the sun came up, Ryder had already assembled a small team to scout the storage facility off Route Nine, and to my surprise, he didn't try to leave me behind.
"You found the map," he said simply, when I asked why. "You know your father's handwriting, his shorthand, better than any of us. If there's something out there that connects to him, you're the one most likely to recognize it."
I didn't argue. I wanted to be there anyway, needed to be there, even if some smarter part of me knew it probably wasn't safe.
We took two trucks instead of bikes, less conspicuous, Ryder said, for a s
