The front customer lounge was dark, but a yellow work light threw long shadows through the glass door of the back office.

The service bay smelled of cold transmission fluid and wet metal.

I pushed open the side door and walked across the stained concrete.

Dale’s desk was littered with dirty coffee mugs, dog-eared repair manuals, and greasy parts tags.

His leather swivel chair sat empty by the file cabinet.

Next to his tape dispenser lay a white deposit receipt from Oak Creek First Bank.

I picked it up and held it under the desk lamp.