“I rented an efficiency apartment. It was near the industrial part of Atlanta where there were several body shops.”
“With what money did you rent an apartment at that age?”
“When I was sixteen, I sold the car my dad and I had fixed up for a profit. I used that money to buy another car, which I fixed up and sold for a profit. By the time I turned eighteen, I’d sold four cars. I used that money to rent my apartment and pay for food until I got a job and started earning a paycheck.”
“Who hired you?”
“A guy named Ronaldo who owned a body shop. He paid me minimum wage, but he taught me a lot.”
“His business was legal?”
“Yeah. But one of their customers wasn’t so legal. He was a kid around my age who kept bringing in the most rare and expensive cars I’ve ever seen or worked on.”
Finley plucked a pink gem from his pan and put it on the grooved lip of the chute. “Did anyone ask this kid where he was coming by all of these rare and expensive cars?”
“Ronaldo had a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy. I should’ve stuck to that. The kid’s name was Kyle, and we became friends. His situation was like mine. He was into cars. He’d also left home early.”
“Why had he left home early?”
“Abusive father. Eventually, Kyle’s boss invited me to come and work for him.”
“At the chop shop?”
He nodded.
“And you said yes because?”
“The pay was ridiculously good, and I got to work with incredible cars.”
“Stolen cars.”
“At that point in my life, I didn’t care that they were stolen. I figured the people who owned them were so rich they could cash in the insurance and buy another.”
“What about the danger involved?”
“That was the best part.”
He’d been careless. More than that. It was almost as if he’ddaredGod to take him down. “I don’t know much about chop shops. Did you basically just steal cars and then change their appearance and resell them on the ... black market?” She whispered the last part. Sayingblack marketmade her feel like she was impersonating a movie character.
“That was a part of the business. Most of the time, though, it was safer and more profitable to break the cars down and sell them for parts.”
“What happened that landed you in jail?” She knew the answer in general but wanted to hear it in his own words.
“I stole a brand-new Mercedes S-class.”
“How?”
“It’s called relay theft. Kyle and I went to a fancy restaurant in Atlanta and watched people park their cars. We knew which types of cars we were looking for, and it was easy to see which ones had keyless entry systems. We decided on the Mercedes, and Kyle followed the driver inside. I went to the car. As soon as Kyle got near the driver’s key fob, he captured its signal using a device. I received the signal on my device and the car was fooled into thinking its key fob was nearby. At that point, its doors unlocked, and it allowed me to start the engine.”
“No hot-wiring necessary?”
“No.”
“What went wrong that night?”
“We’d hit that restaurant twice before. It was a mistake to go back a third time, because it turned out the police had planted the Mercedes to catch us. I tried to outrun them, but they anticipated my escape route. They put down spikes that blew out the tires. After they took me in, they offered to downgrade the charges if I’d turn on the guys at the shop and provide information on them.”
“Which you refused to do.” It wasn’t a guess. She knew him well enough to know how he’d have reacted to that.
