CHAPTER 31
Chapter Title: Rust and Lies
Kathy
The crushed SUV sat like a tombstone in the scrapyard’s back corner, its black paint scarred, its body twisted into a slab of useless steel. My flashlight’s beam crawled across the wreckage, hunting for a miracle, something—anything—I could pull from this dead end.
They wiped another piece of Kimberly’s trail, just like they scrubbed the warehouse clean. Every lead I chased turned to ash, and I was running out of places to look.
Rage simmered in me, hot and reckless. I wanted to storm the Williamson estate and drag Divine out by her fancy pearls, watch her smug little empire burn. But Ace was right—without proof, I had nothing. The yacht club conversation I’d overheard wasn’t on tape. The cash I’d lifted wasn’t tied to her prints, and even if it was, a hundred grand was pocket change to a woman like Divine. She’d laugh in my face, her smile mocking me, and walk away untouched.
She wouldn’t break under pressure. But one of her pawns? That was my way in.
Chief Morgan. A dirty cop with a badge he didn’t deserve and a closet full of secrets. If I could back him into a corner, he might sell Divine out to save his own skin. He was the weak link. I just needed something solid to pry him open.
Ace’s flashlight bobbed in the distance, slicing through the dark as he wove through the maze of rusted car frames and rotting tires. He wasn’t alone. A shadowy figure trailed him, shoulders slumped, boots dragging on the gravel with a slow, reluctant scrape. The night watchman, I figured, dragged from whatever hole he’d been hiding in to face us.
Ace reached me, his usual cocky half-smirk nowhere in sight. His face was all hard lines, like he’d seen something in the dark he didn’t like. Even his thermos of coffee, tucked under his arm, looked wrong—not casual, but like a prop he was gripping to keep his hands steady.
The man beside him was scrawny, late forties, maybe fifty, with a face carved by hard years and harder drinks. Grease-stained coveralls hung loose on his wiry frame, and a crooked name tag read Earl. He reeked of cigarettes, whiskey, and bad decisions, his fingers twitching like they were itching for a smoke—or something worse.
“Earl’s the night guy,” Ace said, his voice low, clipped. “Found him by the gate, dozing in his truck.”
Earl scowled, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Ain’t dozin’. Been here since nine, like always. Place was quiet ‘til you two showed up.”
I stepped forward, flashing my badge in the beam of my flashlight. “Special Agent Katherine Hastings, FBI. So you've been here since nine? Then you should’ve heard something. A crusher doesn’t whisper, Earl. You telling me you didn’t hear it?”
His jaw tightened. He shifted, gravel crunching under his boots. “Yep. Didn’t hear nothin’. Place is big, machine’s way on the other side. Could’ve happened before my shift. I told you, Dorsey left at six. I got here by nine. Nobody in or out ‘til you.”
Too quick. Too rehearsed. His twitching fingers wouldn’t quit. My gut clenched—he was lying. A crusher didn’t run itself, and if he’d been here all night, he’d have heard the hydraulics wail, the metal shriek. Unless he was the one who flipped the switch. Divine’s reach was long—cops, city officials, maybe even a greasy watchman on her payroll.
I kept my face blank, suspicion coiled tight inside me. “When did that happen then?” I tilted my beam toward the mangled SUV. “Cars don’t walk themselves into crushers.”
Earl’s gaze darted to the wreckage, then back to me, cagey. “Don’t know. Didn’t know about that SUV anyway. Dorsey’d know more. He’s probably the one who found it.”
My pulse jumped. “Found it?” I turned to look at Ace, waiting for him to answer.
Ace shifted. His expression was steady, but there was calculation in his eyes, like he was picking each word with tweezers. “Dorsey’s the yard owner. Friend of my brother Archer.” He paused, measured. “Morning after Kimberly went missing, Dorsey was doing a sweep of the yard. Found the black SUV parked back here. Thought it might be connected, so he called me. Didn’t go to Chief Morgan.”
My brow creased. “Funny. Word travels fast in this town. Dorsey knew Kimberly was missing by the very next morning, when Hank didn’t even file a report until the afternoon.”
Ace didn’t flinch. “After Emma called Hank, I knew time was already against us. I called everyone I trusted to keep an eye out for a black SUV. The next morning, Dorsey called.”
“And why didn’t Dorsey go to the police?” I cut in, raising a hand before Ace could reply. “No—better question. Why didn’t you go to Chief Morgan? Make it official, get it on record. Or did Divine tell you not to?”
Ace’s jaw tightened, his eyes glinting in the dark. Earl twitched beside him, shoulders hunching deeper, like the words Chief Morgan was a blade pressed to his spine.
"I didn’t go to Morgan because I wanted to use the SUV as bait,” Ace said, his voice low and sharp, each word deliberate. "Whoever took Kimberly—Divine or someone else—I was sure they'd come back to clean up this mess and I was right. This proves their scared. If I had gone to Morgan, he would've buried it. He’d have made the SUV disappear into impound before you even smelled the oil. Or worse—he’d twist it. Say it belonged to one of the serial cases, not Kimberly. You really want her written off as just another missing girl in a string no one can solve?”
Earl flinched at that—small, but sharp. A flicker of guilt or fear, hard to pin down. His fingers twitched like he was trying to strangle the truth before it crawled out of his throat.
I didn’t look at him. My focus stayed locked on Ace, searching his face for cracks. His story made sense—too much sense, maybe. He was playing a dangerous game, setting traps, while keeping me in the dark. Was he really trying to outsmart Divine, or was this just another layer of her web, with Ace tangled up in it? My stomach churned with doubt, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding back something bigger.
“So you decided to play gatekeeper instead,” I said, my voice flat, daring him to flinch.
His gaze didn't waver, steady and defiant. “I decided not to hand her over to a man who’d erase her from the story before it even started.”
The scrapyard went silent, the weight of rust and lies pressing down on all three of us. Ace stood tall, thermos gripped tight, his eyes daring me to call him a liar. Earl fidgeted like he was standing on a live wire, every twitch of his hands confirming what I already knew—this place reeked of more than oil and old steel.
My heart pounded, each beat echoing a single truth: the SUV was a tombstone, but not for Kimberly—not yet. The answers were buried here, in this yard, in Earl’s lies, in Ace’s half-truths. I just had to keep digging.