“That’s a late-model Honda Civic,” Helen said, zooming in on the partial plate. “I’ll run this through the database. But Daniel… promise me you won’t do anything reckless. Let me handle it.” Daniel nodded, but the promise felt hollow in his mouth.
He knew where the south-side auto shop was. Daniel wasn’t going to spend another night wondering what Caleb was burying beside his daughter’s body. At 7:00 PM, he pulled into the lot of the 4th Street auto shop, where a flickering light glowed from a second-story apartment above the garage. He climbed the wooden stairs and banged hard on the door.