Chapter Nineteen
JASON
We cruisedto a stop outside Michael and Son Wrecking Yard located thirty minutes outside of Valle Perdido. Stacks of crushed cars rose like metal mountains against the late evening sky.
Thomas had been working his contacts, and a few days after our altercation with Colter in the tailor’s shop, he’d managed to ping Maya’s phone records from the cell towers, tracking her final route. When that led to a dead end, he’d gotten creative and pulled traffic camera footage from the highway department and ran her license plate through automated recognition systems until he found her car’s last known location.
“Her phone’s last ping was here before it went dark. The license plate tracking confirms her car made it this far.” Thomas leaned down and looked out the window. “Think the owner is around?”
“Only one way to find out.” I tipped my head toward the door.
Thomas nodded, opened his door, and stepped out. His head swiveled as he turned in place. “Clear,” he called back.
I pushed out of the door, the metallic tang of rust and steel mixed with motor oil hitting me full force. For a small-town wrecking yard, there sure were a lot of vehicles. I had to wonder if there was a side hustle.
A man in greasy coveralls emerged from a small office trailer, squinting at us. Based on his appearance, I guessed he was the “Son” in Michael and Son. He took his time walking over, wiping his hands on a rag. “Help you, fellas?”
“We’re looking for a car that might have come in recently,” Thomas said. “2018 Honda Civic. Blue. It was involved in a car accident a few days ago.”
The man’s eyes flicked between us, taking in our clothes, our SUV. “Don’t recall off the top of my head. Lot of cars come through here.” He scratched his chin. “Insurance jobs, impounds, abandoned vehicles, you know how it is.”
I stepped forward. “Maybe this would help your memory.” I held up a hundred-dollar bill.
His expression shifted slightly. “Might be one in the back lot. Haven’t gotten around to processing it yet.” He glanced around the yard. “Course, I’d need to make sure you folks have legitimate business with it.”
“We do,” I said, adding another hundred to the first.
“Well then.” He gestured for us to follow him toward the back of the yard. “Name’s Rocky, by the way. Follow me.” We walked through the maze of twisted metal and broken glass, following Rocky deeper into the yard where the more recent wrecks sat waiting.
“Been running this place for twenty years,” Rocky said over his shoulder. “See all kinds come through here.”
“I bet you do,” Thomas replied.
“This the car you’re looking for?” Rocky stopped in front of a blue Honda Civic.
The passenger side was crumpled, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected for a fatal accident.
“That’s it,” I said, walking around to examine the damage. “Mind if we take a look inside?”
“Knock yourselves out. Just don’t take nothing that ain’t yours.” Rocky lit a cigarette. “You family or something?”
“Something,” Thomas said.
I tried the driver’s door. Locked. “You have keys?”
“Might.” Rocky took a long drag. “Course, officially, I ain’t supposed to let nobody in there without proper paperwork.”
I pulled out another hundred. “Unofficially?”
Rocky grinned and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Unofficially, I’m a helpful guy.”
The door creaked open, and I slid into the driver’s seat. Thomas went around to the passenger side. “Her sister’s been looking for some personal items,” he said, keeping up the conversation with Rocky. “Sentimental stuff, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it. Family always wants something to remember them by.” Rocky took another drag of his cigarette and glanced back toward his office. “Tell you what, I got some paperwork to catch up on. Y’all take your time. Just holler if you need anything.” He walked away, leaving us alone with the car.
“Smart man,” Thomas muttered, popping the glove compartment. “Knows when to give people privacy.”
I started feeling around under the driver’s seat while Thomas searched the passenger side.
