The separate businesses shared an accountant. They also shared a storage yard on the edge of town.

But the most disturbing discovery concerned the blue Mustang.

An internal email recovered from Sterling’s records referred to “the genuine donor vehicle” and instructed employees to prepare a secure bay in advance of its arrival.

The email contained a photograph of Elijah’s driveway.

And it was dated before Vivien called the police.

Price stared at the photograph for nearly a minute. The garage door stood open. The Mustang’s left front wheel was visible, along with the brass wind chime hanging beside Elijah’s kitchen window. Somebody had taken the picture from within his property line.

“We need to find out who took this,” she told her team. “And I want to know what they meant by donor.”

One investigator looked up from his screen. “Could mean parts.”

“Could,” Price said. “Or it could mean a legitimate car whose identity they intend to borrow.”

Across town, Elijah was trying to make breakfast. He had not slept well since the title filing appeared. He kept imagining his father’s signature beneath a date his father had never lived to see.

At 8:05, his garage camera alerted him that motion had been detected outside.

He opened the feed.

A man in a dark jacket was kneeling beside the Mustang’s rear wheel, aiming a small light beneath the body.

The man looked up directly at the camera.

Then he reached toward the lens.

The picture went black.

CHAPTER 13: A GARAGE IN THE DARK

Elijah did not run outside. He called emergency dispatch, explained that an unknown person had entered his property, and remained inside with the door locked. He could hear metal scraping in the garage. Something heavy bumped against a shelf.

His whole career had taught him how quickly an ordinary confrontation could become dangerous. His whole life had taught him how much the Mustang mattered. In that moment he refused to let the second lesson overrule the first.

A patrol officer arrived within minutes and found the side gate open. The garage camera had been covered with a piece of dark tape; it had not been destroyed. The intruder was gone. Nothing obvious was missing, but a service panel beneath the rear seat had been lifted.

Elijah stood in the doorway when Detective Price arrived.

“You didn’t confront him?” she asked.

“No.”

“Good.”

He studied her face. “You sound surprised.”

“Most people forget how valuable not getting hurt is once they see somebody touch their property.”

Price’s technicians photographed the interrupted work. The panel had been opened with a specialized trim tool, not torn loose by an amateur. There were small scratches on the retaining clips. The intruder had been searching for something beneath the rear seat.