I leaned closer, the flashlight beam trembling in my hand as I counted the stacks. Each bundle was labeled with a handwritten code I didn’t recognize. The chemical smell was so strong now that it started to give me a pounding headache.
I reached out to touch one of the bundles, but stopped when I saw a dark stain on the plastic. It wasn’t mud, and it wasn’t the oily chemical—it looked like dried, dark red spray. The reality of the situation finally crashed down on me like a wave.
This was clearly part of something much larger and more dangerous than a simple discovery. People didn’t just leave forty thousand dollars in a drainage ditch for no reason. I looked over my shoulder at the empty highway, suddenly feeling very exposed.
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Max let out a low growl, looking toward the road above us where a dark SUV was slowing down. My blood turned to ice as the vehicle pulled onto the gravel shoulder directly above our heads. I killed the flashlight and pressed myself against the cold concrete.
I heard the heavy “thud” of a car door closing and the crunch of boots on the roadside debris. “It should be right here,” a gravelly voice muttered from above. I realized they weren’t looking for the cat—they were looking for their missing money.
