The auction hall wasn’t glamorous. It smelled of diesel, floor wax, and too many years of government storage. Rows of vehicles, some battered, some barely used, sat beneath buzzing fluorescent lights. Police impounds, seized property, and surplus cars all found their way here, waiting for new owners.
Margaret blended in with the other bidders, though she wasn’t the usual type. Most were dealers in work boots or retired men looking for bargains. She was in her early forties, hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she was desperate not for a project, but for wheels.