“Okay,” he said, eyes still on the screen. “Don’t touch anything. Don’t call the tow company. Don’t confront her again. We’re going to handle this.”
Then he stepped off my porch, lifted his radio, and spoke into it in a tone that made my stomach flip.
“Task force. We have a confirmed unauthorized tow of the surveillance platform. Lock was cut with bolt cutters. Vehicle location unknown. Initiating emergency retrieval.”
Within an hour, my quiet street was crawling with unmarked SUVs.
Not the kind of police presence you get for a noise complaint. These were professionals. People who moved like they had done this in far worse places than an HOA neighborhood with decorative rocks.
They checked local tow lots first. Every place within twenty miles. Nothing.
The tow companies denied everything, which usually means one of two things: they didn’t do it, or they did it for cash and didn’t want paperwork attached.
Either way, the Jeep wasn’t on record.
