Mercer gave him a warning look. "You talk too much."
Maya said nothing.
The tow truck turned ahead of them through a wide chain-link gate. A small sign near the entrance read: Hensley Recovery and Storage. Mercer followed.
The property was larger than it looked from the road. Several rows of vehicles sat behind fencing and corrugated metal buildings. Maya watched closely as the cruiser moved deeper into the yard. There were ordinary damaged cars near the front, but the vehicles farther back were different: a restored red Corvette sat beneath a fitted cover; an older Ford pickup was parked beside a classic Mercedes; several motorcycles stood inside a fenced section near a warehouse. Some had paper tags attached to the handlebars; others carried yellow inventory stickers. Maya looked at each row without turning her head too quickly.
Noah noticed where she was looking. "This is not overflow," he said.
Mercer parked beside a low office building. "Stay in the car."
Noah ignored him and got out.
Mercer opened the rear door for Maya. "Out."
She stepped onto the pavement. The tow truck pulled in beside the warehouse, and the driver began preparing to unload the Harley. Maya watched the motorcycle carefully: the broken headlight, the dented tank, and the damaged engine case were all clearly visible.
Mercer saw her looking. "You are still worried about the bike?"
Maya turned toward him. "I am worried about what happens to evidence when no one records where it went."
Mercer's face tightened. "This is not evidence."
"You put my federal credentials in your patrol bag and called them evidence."
Mercer said nothing.
Noah looked at him. "She is right."
Mercer pointed toward the office. "Take her inside."
Noah did not move. "I am not taking her anywhere until you tell me what we are doing."
Mercer stepped closer. "We are waiting for Boone."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the only one you are getting."
Noah looked toward Maya. "Do you know where you are?"
Maya answered immediately. "Hensley Recovery and Storage."
Mercer turned toward her.
She continued. "North Industrial Corridor. Two turns past the old water tower."
Noah looked surprised. Mercer stared at her. "You have been memorizing the route?"
Maya did not answer.
He grabbed her lightly by the arm and directed her toward the office. He did not strike or push her, but he kept control of the cuffs.
Inside, the building smelled of old coffee and motor oil. A man behind the desk looked up when they entered.
Mercer said, "Back room."
The man did not ask why. He pointed toward a narrow hallway. Noah followed. At the end was a small office with a metal desk, two chairs, and no exterior window.
Mercer opened the door. Maya stepped inside. "Seat."
She remained standing. "Am I free to leave?"
Mercer looked at her. "No."