I decided to give the Virtue another try. I got behind the wheel again, turned the ignition.

Nothing.

What was it Otto had said? Something about a short in the transmission? I turned the key again, far enough that it allowed me to unlock the automatic transmission lever between the seats, and moved it from park, down through reverse and neutral and the lower gears, and back again. I did it a couple of times, then turned the key all the way forward in a bid to turn the engine over.

Bingo.

“Yes!” I shouted. “Yes!”

The hell with the auto club. As long as the Virtue was running, I could keep it running. All I had to do now was move the Camry, which was parked behind the Virtue. I bailed out of the Virtue, jumped into the Camry, backed it up ten feet, effectively blocking in a couple of other people’s cars, then got back into the Virtue.

I looked at my watch. It had been twelve minutes since Bullock’s phone call. I still had better than forty-five minutes before he called again. I had at least one vital errand to run, and one important phone call to make.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asked me through the open window.

“I’m going to try to get my daughter back.”

“Let me come with you,” he said.

“I can’t.”

Trevor’s expression grew more frustrated. “I might be able to help you. I, I might be able to figure out where they went.”

“Trevor, I’m going to ask you this one last time. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He pressed his lips together, looked one way and then another. “No,” he said. “No, there isn’t.”

I put the car into reverse, and Trevor said, “Give me your cell phone number. In case I find out anything, I can call you.” He had his own out and in his hand. I told him my number, which he immediately entered into his phone’s memory bank. If I had a chance sometime, if we all got through this evening alive, I’d have to get him to show me how to do that.

“I have to go,” I said, backed out of the spot, and headed for Lawrence Jones’s apartment.

As I drove I tried to put the pieces together. If Bullock wanted the Virtue back, how did he know where to find it? I hadn’t even bought the car at the auction. Lawrence had handled everything. He’d done the bidding, he’d written the check, he’d filled out the forms—

Jesus.

And only a few hours later, someone had gone to see Lawrence Jones, torn his place apart, and left him for dead.

Probably after they’d found the check I’d written him, for the same exact amount as the check he’d written at the auction.