Chapter 1 - The Bundle on the Concrete
The trunk of the black luxury sedan opened with a violent snap, and Ray Mercer knew before the bundle stopped sliding that his shift was over.
The car was halfway up the tow truck's inclined bed in the third level of a downtown parking garage. Ray had checked the vehicle identification number, photographed the tires, and fitted the wheel straps according to company procedure. The trunk latch, already damaged, gave way as the winch pulled. A heavy object wrapped in gray moving cloth slid out, struck the concrete, and rolled toward a drain.
Ray put down his tablet and ran to stop it. For a moment he thought the bundle was part of an old tool chest. Then the covering shifted and a small engraved locket fell into view. A dent curved across its silver lid, just beneath the initials E.M.
"That's his," Ray whispered.
He knew the dent because he'd made it. At fifteen he had thrown the locket across their shared bedroom during an argument about borrowing clothes. His brother Eli had found it under the dresser, refused to speak to him for two days, and finally put it back on its chain. Six years ago Eli disappeared after taking a nighttime job at a riverside warehouse. Ray had searched for him for months, then years, moving from police stations to hospitals to shelters as the leads grew thin.
Now that locket lay beside a luxury car whose owner had failed to pay parking penalties for seven months.
Ray lifted the edge of the cloth. Beneath it were a canvas tool roll, a battered work boot, and a plastic box secured with tape. No body. But the items smelled of damp concrete and a chemical cleaner Ray associated with industrial garages. He stepped back, feeling his stomach tighten. He had already touched the bundle without gloves. He couldn't undo that. He pulled out his phone and photographed the scene as it lay.
Footsteps sounded behind the sedan. Marco DeLuca, the registered owner, came around the concrete pillar in a tailored charcoal suit. He was forty-eight, broad-shouldered, with his phone still pressed to his ear. He stopped when he saw the uncovered bundle.
Ray held up the locket by its chain. "This was my brother's. Where is he?"
Marco lowered his phone. "You don't understand."
"Then explain."
Marco took a step toward the bundle. Ray put the locket down beside it and raised an open hand to keep him back. "I'm calling it in."
"If you call the police, you don't know who gets hurt."
"My brother's already gone."
"I never said he was dead."
The words cut through Ray more sharply than a threat. For six years he had swung between believing Eli was alive somewhere and fearing the evidence would prove otherwise. Marco had just used both possibilities against him.
Ray dialed emergency dispatch and described the location, his tow authorization, the displaced property, and the jewelry that appeared to belong to a missing person. The operator told him not to move any additional objects. Marco stood very still near the rear wheel.
"Who sent you?" Marco asked.
"The garage manager. You left a car with unpaid fees."
"Nobody knew this car was here."
"Somebody put it on a tow list."
Marco's face changed. Ray heard traffic humming beyond the concrete walls and the slow ratchet of the tow truck settling under the vehicle's weight. He realized Marco wasn't looking at the locket anymore. He was looking at the identification numbers on Ray's tablet.
"Stop the winch," Marco said. "The car has a tracker. If somebody knows it moved, they'll know you found that bag."
Ray glanced at the bundle again. He hadn't noticed the small black device attached beneath the canvas strap. It had a blinking green light.
May you like
He stepped away. "Then whoever's watching can wait for the police."
A second car engine started near the far ramp. Marco turned toward the sound. His jaw tightened. "They won't wait," he said.
