Following Kayden as we headed down the hall, I checked the incoming number

and answered. “Tag, did you make it?”

“Yeah, for all the good it did me.” A myriad of rings and dings played background music to Tag’s voice. “She’s not here.”

I reached out and grabbed Kayden’s arm, bringing us both to a stop. My

recent optimism at using Risia’s ability started to dim. “What do you mean, she’s

not there?”

“Her apartment is empty, and it looks like she packed in a hurry.” Serious disgruntlement colored Tag’s words. “I’m going to run down some of her friends

and see if I can’t find out where she rabbited.”

A niggling sense of unease rose, but considering I had no idea if it was legit

or just part and parcel of my current circumstances, there wasn’t much I could do. “Be careful, Hayseed.”

“I will. I’ll call you as soon as I get more information.”

We said our good-byes, and then I tucked my phone away.

Kayden read my worry. “Don’t borrow trouble,” he warned. “He’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We continued down the hall, heading toward second tower’s elevator. A sign

was posted above the call buttons. I nudged Kayden, drawing his attention to it.

The sign indicated that the eleventh through fifteenth floors were under construction, and inaccessible by elevator without a special pass.

We exchanged raised eyebrows. He gave me a slow nod and I hit ten. We

rode up in silence. Once we disembarked, I took lead, heading toward the door at

the far end. I pushed it open and stepped into the stairwell. I held the door open

while Kayden slipped by. As soon the door closed, locking us in the stairwell, the temperature rose by a good fifteen degrees.

I snuck a glance at Kayden, his coloring was better but still a little wan.

“Ready?”

“After you.”

We made our way up the stifling stairs, my boots echoing hollowly in the cement confines. “You have your B and E kit?” I threw over my shoulder, wondering if maybe I should’ve asked sooner.

I took his grunt for a yes. We stopped at the top of the stairs before the door

marked with the big 11. A surreptitious glance up showed no blinking red light

in the security camera perched in the corner. “Strange.”

He wiped a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. “What?”

“The security camera’s down.”

He looked up, then turned to me. “That can’t be good.”

Or maybe we caught a break. “Guess we’re starting on this floor.”

With lock picks in hand, he made short work of the heavy door. It opened into a plastic-draped hallway. There were no murmurs of voices, no pounds, clicks, or motorized sounds to indicate any workmen remained on site. Still, we

stayed as quiet as possible, drifting down the corridor. Based on the trajectory of

the shot, we could narrow our search to the condos sitting above the pool.

Unhung doors rested against unpainted walls, while sheets of heavy plastic draped doorways. White dust layered the cement floors and various construction

detritus. Not wanting to leave visible footprints, we picked our path carefully.

Halfway down the hall on the left side, I found the first possible position for our

sniper. I pulled the plastic aside, and slipped inside, Kayden on my heels.

Bare wood frames outlined future interior walls and allowed an unimpeded

view of the windows overlooking the pool area. Even knowing our shooter

wouldn’t have lingered, Kayden and I cleared the space before moving to the windows. Then we started our search from opposing ends.

I studied the dust covered floor for any indication our shooter had been there.

No marks. Nothing. I met Kayden at the wall of windows. Together, we ran fingers over the edges, looking for openings, cracks, anything a shooter could use. Nothing. I met Kayden’s gaze and shook my head. We moved out and on to

the next unfinished condo.

On the third condo we hit pay dirt. An arid breeze swirled drywall powder into mini dust devils that twisted their way through half-built walls and wound

over the paint-flecked concrete. At the wall of windows, a missing pane of glass

left a gap on the far-right side.

I moved closer, and found the first imprint, a smudged print of a boot toe.

Mimicking the angle of the mark, I lined up an imaginary shot. Sure enough, Kelsey’s second-bedroom balcony came into line.