CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Tom," Ilse said quickly, glancing towards the flashing red button on the radio receiver in the middle of the dashboard. Agent Sawyer was still driving, hastening down the highway in the direction of Mr. Lopez's address. "Tom!" Ilse repeated, louder.
Her partner jolted, glancing at her. "What was that?"
She pointed towards the radio again. Tom frowned, reaching out and clicked the receiver.
A muffled voice spoke on the other end. "We have a hit on that APB of yours, Sawyer."
Ilse perked up.
"On Juan Lopez's vehicle?"
"That's the one," the voice replied.
"Where is it heading?" Sawyer said.
Ilse waited, rigid.
The voice replied, "It's at Mountains Scrapyard. Owned by a Benjamin Connolly. I can move in to apprehend."
"No," Sawyer said hurriedly. “We're only a few m
