She marched to the admin desk, pulled Josh’s file from the drawer, and spread the forms across the breakroom table. Every field, every scribble—she examined them with a new urgency. Both phone numbers were wrong. That much was clear. Her pulse quickened. She scanned down to the listed address.
Hope surged. Maybe the address was real. She dialed the apartment complex. An admin picked up after a few rings. “Josh Smith?” he repeated, checking something in the system. “No one by that name ever lived here.” Gabby went still. Her skin prickled. He wasn’t careless. He was calculated.