I ducked down, then crawled inside the car. There wasn’t a whole lot of space, but that was more because it was a small car than because it was upside down. I opened the glove compartment, and papers, tissues, and the car’s service book all fell out. I gathered the papers and handed them to Jackson, then checked the storage bin in the center console. Small change, phone chargers, and candy wrappers joined the rest of the rubbish on the floor—or rather, the roof. I swept a hand under the driver’s seat but couldn’t find anything, repeated the process for the passenger’s seat, then twisted around and began sifting through the mess that had come from the backseat. It appeared that Janice shared our love for McDonald’s—most of the rubbish consisted of their coffee cups and the occasional hot apple pie wrapper.

“Anything interesting in all that paperwork?” I asked Jackson. I ran my hands around the sides of the seats, just in case something had been jammed between them and the console.

“Nothing more than service receipts and registration papers going back a couple of years.” He paused as the wail of sirens began to get louder. “We don’t have much longer.”

“No.” Something pricked my finger. I swore and wrenched it free. Whatever it was had drawn blood, even if it was little more than a fine droplet.

“You okay?” Jackson squatted in front of the door.

“Yeah, something just stabbed my finger.” I sucked the blood from it and peered a little closer, but couldn’t immediately see anything sharp.

“Approach it from under the seat,” Jackson suggested.

“I did that before and didn’t find anything.” I teased a bit of flame to a fingertip and pushed the seat cushion with my other hand, creating more of a gap. Something small and metallic gleamed back at me.

“It’s a pin of some sort.”

I carefully reached down and pried it free. It was one of those pin-on plastic name-tag things companies gave short-term visitors. This one read just that—VISITOR—along with a company name: HOLDRIGHT INDUSTRIES. The name, for some reason, rang a bell.

I handed the name tag to Jackson, then crawled out of the car. “Never heard of the company,” he said, helping me up.

“I have, but I can’t tell you where or why.” I glanced around as a police car pulled up. “And the fun begins.”

“At least we now have PIT badges to speed up the process.” He pocketed the name tag. “Do you want to put Google to use while I go talk to the cops?”

I nodded and dragged out my phone. Holdright Industries, I soon discovered, made industrial shelving and racking. I didn’t really know the difference between the two, but obviously there was one.