"Thanks," I say, sliding Dillon a twenty-dollar bill. He pockets it and disappears into the shadows of the yard, the gravel crunching under his boots.

I'm about to walk out the door myself when something makes me stop. Some instinct that's saved my skin more times than I can count. I turn to Mikey one last time.

"Do you know what that woman's name was?"

Mikey looks up from the paperwork on the counter, his expression flickering with uncertainty.

"Uhh… it starts with M. Mary? Mara? The address she put down was for the Cottswold, you know that flashy manor they rent out for the summer?" His words hang in the air like smoke.

I know the one.

I also have a feeling I know exactly who the woman is now.

Back in my car, I pull out my phone to do a quick search. The results load, and my blood runs cold as the name hits me like a physical blow. The pieces slot together with a terrible clarity that makes my stomach turn.

Moira Sullivan.

In that moment, everything crystallizes. The black Porsche. The hit-and-run. The desperate cover-up. It all leads back to one person—Scott Sullivan. The coward who left Nora bleeding out on that road, and if it hadn't been for Nate finding her when he did… The thought alone makes my hands shake with rage.

And now his mother's here, doing what she's probably done his entire life—cleaning up his messes, erasing his mistakes, making sure her precious son never has to face the consequences of his actions.

The pieces fit together like a jigsaw puzzle from hell: Scott behind the wheel, probably drunk or high. And instead of calling for help, he ran. Like the worthless coward he's always been.

Now here's his mother, carefully erasing the evidence with the same precision she's probably used his whole life.

Make it disappear.

Let money solve the problem, like always.

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, memories flooding back. Nate blamed himself for all of this. But it was his father. Just like in every instance in Nate's life, Scott was at the helm of the pain and suffering.

My phone feels heavy in my hand as I dial Danny's number, rage burning cold and steady in my chest.

"I think I've got something." I watch Mikey and Dillon through the office window, their heads bent close in another hushed conversation. "And Danny? I think this goes deeper than we thought. Much deeper."

I start the engine, my mind already racing ahead. The truth about that night is finally surfacing, and when it does, Scott Sullivan is going to learn that some accidents have consequences that even his family's money can't make disappear.

I pull out onto the main road, the setting sun painting the sky blood red. In my rearview mirror, the wrecking yard disappears into shadows, taking its secrets with it.

But not for long.