CHAPTER NINE
Ilse and Sawyer drove beneath a busted streetlight, both of them quiet, both of them fixated on the small house at the end of the block.
The junkyard owner didn't live in a particularly nice part of town. Already, Ilse had heard two gunshots.
She shivered, murmuring her memory trick beneath her breath as they moved slowly down the street, trying not to attract attention. A couple of pedestrians eyed them suspiciously.
"Shouldn't have driven such a new car," Sawyer muttered.
"Yeah? That scrapyard employee didn't seem in the lending mood," she replied. "Look, the garage is opening."
Ilse's eyes darted to the GPS, then towards the garage next to the tiny, single-story house. Indeed, Connolly's car was pulling out of the driveway. Ilse read the license plate, and said, "That
