Manson and Rankin arrived to the garage. The mechanics had the car lifted in the air, the tires removed, and was scanning the undercarriage. Manson walked up and nodded to the lead mechanic.
“How’s it going,” she asked.
“It’s going,” the mechanic said. She had grease on her face, hands and neck.
“What have you found?”
“The driver had total brake failure. There was air in the brake line. When he crested the hill, he pressed the brakes and there was nothing there.”
“So, it was an accident?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Could someone inject air into the brake line to cause the brakes to fail,” Rankin asked. The mechanic shrugged.
“I don’t know, man. I suppose anything is possible. If you guys are done, we need to finish our inspection.”
“Sure. If you find anything else, let us know.”
Manson pulled out her phone and called Lilly. They made arrangements to meet at O’Shea’s. Fifteen minutes later, all four detectives walked to the front of the pub.
“Did you guys get Tia,” Manson asked.
“Yeah,” Lilly said. She shook her head. Tia’s betrayal bothered her on a deeply personal level. “If she could betray us without another thought, what’s to keep me from falling into that same trap?”
“Any luck on your end,” Lilly asked. Manson nodded.
“Air was in the brake lines. He experienced total brake failure.”
“So, it was an accident.”
“Not necessarily,” Konan said. “The boy is still missing. Now that the father is no longer in the way, they will kill the child and dump him somewhere.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Manson said. Rankin and Lilly nodded their heads vigorously.
“The kid’s dead,” Konan said matter-of-factly. There was no malice in his heart toward the kid, nor did he say it for the shock value. “Cartwright and Billy would never leave witnesses that could bury them. That kid’s fate was sealed the moment his father died.”
There was an adage about old dogs and new tricks, and it applied to Billy and Cartwright.