I stood by the stove, leaning against the counter as he typed his password with quick, hard keystrokes. His breathing had slowed, but his jaw remained clenched so tightly that I could see the muscles pulsing in his cheek.
“Can you track the signal?” I asked, stepping closer to the table but keeping enough distance to respect his silent boundary.
“I am trying,” he said, his fingers hovering over the trackpad. “If the location services are active, it should show me the last address where it pinged before the battery drained.”
I twisted my silver ring again, watching his eyes dart across the screen as the map began to load. A small grey circle appeared over the map of Oak Creek, but there was no green dot to indicate a live signal. The circle encompassed several blocks of the downtown area.
“What does the grey circle mean?” I asked, stepping closer to the table. I looked at the names of the streets, trying to find some familiar landmark that would explain his afternoon.
