The wooden handle of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat protruded from the gaping driver's-side window, the cardboard tag from the store still dangling from its string.

Billy leaned out the SUV window and let out a low whistle. "Wow."

"But on the upside," I said, "now all the windows match."

"What a mess," Georgia said.

I went around to the front of the car and opened the trunk. It hadn't been tampered with. My sawed-off shotgun was still in the backseat. Billy and Georgia got out and walked over to me.

"Gang?" Georgia asked.

"Gang wouldn't have left the gun," I said.

"The guys in the hoods?" Billy guessed.

"Didn't strike me as the baseball-bat type." I reached in and picked up the bat with just my forefinger and thumb, near the middle, where it wouldn't mar any fingerprints left on it. I showed it to them. "Cowl would have used his magic to smash the car up, not a club." I walked around to the back of the car and frowned down at the engine. It looked intact. I leaned in the window and tried my key. The engine turned over without any trouble.

"Huh," Billy said. "Who completely ruins a car but doesn't touch the engine?"

"Someone sending me a message," I said.

Billy pursed his lips. "What does it say?"

"That I need to rent a car, apparently," I said. I shook my head. "I don't have time for this."

Billy and Georgia traded a look, and Georgia nodded. She came over to me, took my car keys where I held them in my cupped left hand, and replaced them with her own.

"Oh, hell, no," I said. "Don't do that."

"It's not a big deal," she told me. "Look, you still take your car to Mike's Garage, right?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"But nothing," Billy said. "We're only a couple of blocks from the apartment. We'll get your car towed to Mike's."

Georgia nodded firmly. "Just bring back the SUV whenever the Beetle is ready."

I thought it over. Seeing my car torn up was actually a hell of a lot more distressing than I thought it would be. It was only a machine. But it was my machine. Some part of me felt furious that someone had done this to my ride.

My first instinct was to refuse their offer, get the Beetle to the shop, and use cabs until then—but that was the anger talking. I forced myself to apply my brain to it, and figured that, given how much running around I might need to do in the near future, I couldn't afford it. I couldn't afford the time that public transportation would cost me, either, assuming I could use it at all. Damn, but I hate to swallow my pride.

"It's a new car. Something will blow out."

"It's still under warranty," Georgia said.

Billy gave me a thumbs-up. "Good hunting, Harry. Whatever you're after."