The Silent Threat

The Silent Threat Copyright © 2023 by Elle Gray All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Epilogue Author's Note Connect with Elle Gray Also by Elle Gray Miller’s Scrap & Salvage Yard; Spellman, WA The day was overcast, and a cool wind blew in from off the ocean west of them. Thunder rumbled in the distance, promising it would be a cold, wet night. Toby West held the chain-link fence up so his friend Dante Morales could slip through the gap. When Dante had wiggled through, he held it up for Toby. They both knew it was dangerous and that they could get in big trouble for sneaking into the scrap yard to play—Sheriff Garrity had warned them just last week—but Toby didn’t think there was a more fun place to play in town. Toby had found all kinds of cool things in the scrap yard. They even sometimes found money in the old cars. A few weeks back, he’d found a twenty-dollar bill in a wrecked-out Toyota that had been brought in. All the blood in the car’s interior had been gross, but he’d been willing to deal with it for the payday. He was always on the hunt for things he could carry out easily to either keep or sell. And, of course, loose cash. “You don’t think Sheriff Garrity will be watching the place to make sure we don’t sneak in, do you?” Dante asked. “What? No,” Toby said confidently. “He’s got more important stuff to do than watch this place just in case we show up. Trust me.” “I just don’t want to get in trouble with my mom and dad,” Dante said. “I would be grounded until high school.” “Don’t be a baby,” Toby told him. “All the workers have already gone home for the day, and the sheriff ain’t here.” “All right. If you say so,” Dante said. “I do. Now stop being such a little girl and let’s go.” The boys walked between a row of rusted-out, beat-up cars, most of which looked like they’d been in accidents. Toby led Dante to the section of the scrap yard that held the newest cars. People came to Miller’s to pull parts off the wrecks they needed for their own cars, so they tended to get picked over pretty quickly. Toby had learned to time their forays into the salvage yard with the arrival of fresh wreckage. “Everything looks the same,” Dante complained. “What are you talking about? There’s tons of new cars!” Toby scampered over to the remains of a Range Rover that had been towed in. The front end was crushed and pushed back so badly, the engine block had broken through the compartment and was partially in the cabin. “Dude, check this out,” Toby called back excitedly. Dante leaned into the car and grimaced. Dried blood coated the cracked and shattered windshield on the driver’s side. More dark crimson stains had soaked into the driver’s side seat as well as the carpet below it. Toby looked at all the blood with fascination, a ghoulish smile on his face. He turned to his friend and nudged him with his elbow. “That’s so gnarly!” he exclaimed. “That’s so gross,” Dante said. “Somebody didn’t make it out of this thing alive, man,” Toby said. “Probably not,” Dante replied. “And laughing about it isn’t very respectful.” Toby rolled his eyes. “Give me a break. When did you get to be so uptight, dude?” “I’m not uptight. I just don’t think there’s anything funny about people dying.” “You never used to be like this. You used to like looking at the wrecks with me,” Toby said. “What’s going on with you, man? What’s changed?” Dante shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t think blood and gore are cool anymore.” “Then we’re going to need to figure out if we can still be friends because I think blood and gore are awesome,” Toby said. His friend looked at him with an expression of shock on his face, making Toby burst into laughter. He doubled over, laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. When he stopped wheezing and stood upright again, his stomach hurt from laughing as hard as he had. The smile slipped though when he saw the stricken expression on Dante’s face. “Dude, I’m kidding,” Toby said, suddenly feeling awful. It was Dante’s turn to erupt with laughter. He playfully punched Toby in the shoulder as he howled. Toby put his hands on his hips with a sour look on his face as shook his head, feeling like an idiot for falling for it. “Dude, you’re such a dick,” Dante said once he stopped laughing. “And you’re such an ass.” Dante snorted. “And that’s why we make good friends.” “That’s probably true.” “But I still don’t think it’s cool to laugh about somebody dying,” Dante said. “I’m not laughing at them dying,