The journals stayed on my mind long after Jace and the others left the basement so I carried three leather bound books upstairs and set them carefully on the small table inside my apartment before making myself another cup of coffee. Diesel wandered over, sniffed the stack curiously, then settled at my feet with a sigh that sounded almost human.
"I know. I'd rather be rebuilding carburetors too." I murmured, scratching behind his ears.
The apartment was unusually quiet. Normally I enjoyed the silence above the garage, but today it felt heavier than usual.
Someone had searched Lawson Customs. Someone had been looking for information. Someone already knew enough to believe Uncle Will had hidden something worth finding.
I pulled the first journal closer and opened it to the beginning. The
