He pulled over under a flickering highway light and fished a burner phone from the glove compartment. Dialed a number from memory.

Nolan tossed the drive high into the air. All three men looked up.

“They’re early,” Nolan muttered.

“They’re always early,” the ghost said, already stepping back into the shadows. “That’s the problem with rookies. They think they have time.”

End of transmission.

He ran.

Nolan’s hand tightened on the drive. “That’s not possible.”