“Kid,” a gentle voice said, breaking through my sleepiness.

I slowly opened my eyes, the world swimming around me, and blinked hard.

“I fell asleep?” I asked dumbly.

“Looks like it,” Mitch said with a wry smile.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around. I wanted to ask where we were but I stopped myself, taking longer to stare out the windows instead. Huge towering piles of warped metal reached towards the sky in every direction, glinting in the bright sun. Neat rows of cars stretched out in between them and ours had joined the end of a queue.

“Is this where we’re switching the cars?” I asked finally.

A genuine smile grew on his face as he gestured with his head for us to get out of the car before reaching for the door handle.

I scrambled after him, climbing out quickly and staring up at the hulking piles of semi-crushed cars. A strange, sharp, metallic tang filled the air, crossed with the acrid stench of pollution and fumes. A deep, rhythmic banging was coming from somewhere in the distance but I ignored it, hurrying around the car to join Mitch.

He leant back against the hood of the car, raising one hand in greeting at the guy walking towards us.

He looked exactly how I’d expected him to. His white hair was long enough to blow in the gentle breeze as he walked and his tanned shoulders poked out from under his vest top. He was well built, despite his age, and it was clear he’d been working in this field for a long time. He just had that energy around him.

“Well, fancy seeing you here, Mitch!” he called as he neared. “Who’s the kid? Not yours, is she?”

“Not biologically,” Mitch said with a grin. “Or, at least, I don’t think she is. Something you’re not telling me, kiddo?”

I looked up, surprised that he was talking to me. I was far too used to being with my mom when she spoke to people. I was expected to stand to one side politely, only joining in when absolutely necessary or when I was spoken to. Being included so casually in the conversation felt a little… unsettling.

“Not as far as I’m aware?” I said with a shrug.

The man laughed, leaning against the back of the car in front of ours, and grinned at Mitch again.

“She’s my latest foster kid. I needed someone little to be able to crawl through tight spaces now that Zaq’s gone. Grace, meet Greg,” Mitch said, cocking his head towards the man in introduction.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, feeling a little shy.

“You too, kid,” he said with a nod before looking back to Mitch. “What happened to Zaq? Last I heard he’d gotten himself a real job, rather than spending his time skulking around with you.”

Mitch laughed.

“That’s right, he’s got a proper job, he goes to meetings. All the boring stuff!” Mitch said proudly.

He was beaming, obviously thrilled that Zaq was doing well for himself. It made my heart pang a little but I wasn’t too sure why. I think it was just the idea of some being so proud of their kid, even if Zaq wasn’t biologically his, made me happy yet envious and a little sad.

“Ah, well, you’ve obviously prepared him well for the real world. No clue how you did that! Bodes well for you, kid. If you ever get bored of chasing rumours halfway round the globe, you can settle down and do something with a solid paycheque!” Greg laughed a little too hard at that and I saw Mitch’s smile harden slightly.

“That reminds me, did you manage to get that car I wanted?” he asked in a lighthearted tone.

The smile on Greg’s face took on a strange quality as he pointed with his chin to a car at the end of the row next to ours.

“What’s that?” Mitch demanded, scandalised.

I glanced between the sleek-looking black car and Mitch, not quite understanding the confusion.

I didn’t know much, or anything really, about cars but it looked fine. It seemed like a nice car, nothing too off-putting about it.

“That’s your car,” Greg replied with a smirk.

Mitch gaped at him before walking towards the car and stopping just before it.

“This is a throwaway assignment, why would you give me this thing?” he asked, sounding genuinely upset.

“You asked for a car with boot space, I got you a car with boot space. I don’t get what the big deal is,” he said with a wicked grin that made me think he knew exactly what the problem was.

Mitch sighed loudly, finally reaching out and touching the car ever so slightly.

“She’s got boot space?” he asked, sounding wistful. Longing, almost.

“Three hundred and thirty-four litres,” Greg confirmed with a nod. “That’s including the space under the bonnet too though. Should be enough.”

Mitch sighed again and opened the bonnet, looking as if he were searching for a reason to reject the car, before closing in softly and moving to the back of it.

“And you found one without a spoiler?” he breathed, running his hand along the back of the car.

“Of course! I know how you feel about them.”

Mitch finished his inspection of the car and rounded on Greg again, who was trying to smile innocently.

“This is a throwaway assignment! Why would you give me this thing?” Mitch demanded sounding genuinely sad.

Greg let out a cackle and held the keys out to Mitch, letting them dangle in the air between the two of them.

“Because I know how much it’s going to hurt you,” he giggled.

Mitch looked around indignantly.

“Why can’t I have that one?” he asked, pointing at a beat-up looking jeep next to us.

“Ah, sorry, that one is already promised to another treasure hunter,” Greg joked.

“You’re evil,” Mitch said flatly. “My first Porsche and I need to dump it? What’s the problem with it? Why are you giving it to me?”

“Very little. It runs well, actually well unlike that Ford I gave you a couple of years back. Not that many miles on it and it’s got no rust.”

Greg’s explanation went straight over my head but Mitch nodded as if he understood it.

“Okay, so why are you giving it to me?” he asked again.

“I’m not giving it to you, you’re paying for it. Or, at least, whoever your current client is will pay for it. Standard price. Let’s call this… revenge,” Greg smirked.

“Revenge?” I asked as Mitch narrowed his eyes at Greg.

“That’s right. Revenge for this asshole leaving me on a damn deserted island with just a catamaran to get me halfway across the damn ocean.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

“Have you ever tried to steer one by yourself?” he demanded.

I shook my head.

“Can’t say I have.”

“It’s a fucking nightmare!”

“Hey, language. She’s a kid,” Mitch interjected.

“And it leaves you a target for pirates and thieves!”

“And, you told me you always wanted to steer one, I was just trying to help,” Mitch insisted with a grin.

“You’re full of…” Greg broke off and glanced at me. “Crap. You did it to get back at me!”

Mitch smirked.

“You asked for a boat, I gave you a boat.”

“And you asked for a car so I gave you a car,” Greg retorted quickly.

Mitch pursed his lips and I could tell that he wanted to swear at him but, for my sake, he didn’t.

“Fine,” he said eventually. “Thanks for the car. I’ll text you the location once I dump it.”

“I know you will,” Greg replied with a less evil-looking grin. “Right, I’ll get out of here so that you can load up the car and I can pretend I didn’t see nothing.”

He pushed away from the car he’d been leaning against and started to walk away.

“Take care of yourself!” Mitch called to him.

Greg lifted a hand in answer but didn’t look back.

“Nice to meet you,” I called, feeling weird not saying anything.

Greg did turn back at that.

“You too, kiddo! Look after the old guy and make sure he doesn’t do anything too reckless.”

“I’ll try!”

I turned back to Mitch as he opened the boot of our car and the boot of the Porsche.

“Some stuff is going to have to go in the front for sure,” he muttered. “Kid, will you come give me a hand? Clothes and whatnot go in the front of the car, shovels and equipment in the back.”

I nodded and stepped forwards to help him.

“Sorry to interrupt, have you already had dinner?” a familiar voice asked.

It took me a moment to realise that it wasn’t anyone in the scrap yard talking to me.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, blinking hurriedly and looking up from the book I’d been pretending to read, trying to ignore the way that my room swam around me.

“Oh? Did you have anything nice?” my dad asked, leaning against my door frame with a gentle smile on his face.

“Just some pasta,” I lied, having had to think surprisingly hard about it and realising I hadn’t eaten. “If I knew you were going to be home so early, I would have made extra.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it! You’re the kid, I should have made dinner for you!”

I shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” I said honestly.

“I know, but still.”

I smiled at him, hating how sad and worried he looked.

“Is mom still…” I asked, not needing to finish the question.

“Asleep on the sofa? Yeah, she is. I’ll make her some food and wake her up with it.”

“Might be better to just let her sleep?” I said, thinking about how angry Mom sometimes got when she was woken up.

My dad sighed as he considered it.

“Probably a bad idea,” he said. “I don’t think she had any lunch and you know how she gets when she doesn’t eat enough.”

“Mmm,” was all I said.

“Are you still hungry? Can I make you anything?” Dad asked hopefully.

“Mmmm… I think I’m okay,” I said with a smile.

He cocked his head to the side, a devious smile coming over his face.

“What about if I order from that pizza place you like?” he offered, raising his eyebrows at me. “Would you still not be hungry?”

“The one that does those really good brownies?” I asked.

His smile grew, knowing that he was on to something.

“That’s the one! I think I still have the app. Do you want the usual, cheese pizza, garlic bread and brownies? Any drink?”

I paused, considering it.

I was actually hungry but I just really didn’t want a family meal. They were always so tense and usually broke out into arguments before too long.

But the idea of those brownies made my stomach rumble.

“Yes please but I think I’m good without a drink,” I said.

“Ah, I’ll get you one anyway. You can always take it to school with you tomorrow!” my dad said with a smile. “I’ll order it now and sneak it up when it gets here so your mom doesn’t drag you downstairs for dinner. Make sure you hide the boxes and take them out when you go to school tomorrow. If you get caught, I’m not covering for you!”

He was lying, he always did.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said with a smile.

“You got it, darling. Enjoy the rest of the book.”

He closed my door softly and I waited until I heard him pad back down the corridor before letting my eyes flutter shut again.

“You okay, kid?” Mitch called as I stumbled slightly and leaned against the car for support against the wave of dizziness that crashed into me.

“Yeah, fine,” I said as loudly as I could manage, blinking quickly to banish the white spots that swam in my vision.

“You sure?” he asked, rushing towards me and grabbing my elbow to steady me.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m feeling better already.”

It was only a bit of a lie.

“What happened?” he asked, his expression concerned.

“It’s fine, just low blood sugar or something, I think. It just happens sometimes.”

That was true but normally, it was when I hadn’t eaten properly or had missed a few meals.

“Does that happen often?”

“Not really. Just when I’m not eating properly. I feel better now,” I said with an awkward smile.

It felt weird to have him looking at me with so much worry. It made me a little uncomfortable, it felt wrong. Only my dad had ever looked at me like that before.

“Do we need to go to a doctor to get some blood tests done?” he asked, still looking at me.

“No, no, it’s okay! Plus, we have to go to Edinburgh, right?”

“Your health is more important than that,” he said, sounding like he meant it which confused me.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” I insisted. “Can I help you load the new car?”

He examined me closely before nodding.

“I’m going to trust you for now but if it keeps happening, we’re going to a doctor.”

I opened my mouth to complain but he held his hand up and cut me off.

“Nope,” he said. “I’m not arguing with you on this. Your health is more important than any assignment and if you start getting dizzy or fainting when we’re out there, you could get seriously injured or die.”

I looked down guiltily.

It wasn’t anything to do with my health. It was just something that happened sometimes when I started daydreaming. I didn’t need to speak to a doctor about it, I didn’t even know what I would say.

“Okay,” I agreed finally.

“Great,” Mitch said, smiling widely which made me feel even worse. “You stay there for now. I’m going to grab that smoothie and I want you to drink it all. It probably tastes like dirt but it should have enough sugar in it to make you feel better. I don’t want to hear any complaints but we’re going to start eating better and more consistently, you hear me.”

I nodded, trying to fight the smile that threatened my lips.

“What?” he asked finally.

“Nothing… It’s just… I thought the smoothie would probably taste like dirt too,” I admitted, looking down and not sure how he’d take it.

Surprisingly, he threw his head back and laughed.

“Kid!” he cried whilst still chuckling. “Why did you get it then?”

I shrugged, not bothering to hide my smile.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked!”

“Well, if it tastes like dirt, I ain’t a fan! No smoothie should be so heavy on the vegetables! And, did you read the back of that bottle? It’s got beetroot in! Why would a smoothie have beetroot in it unless they were actively trying to make it taste like dirt?” he demanded as he pulled the door open and started digging around in the bag.

“So, what you’re saying is you want me to always get you smoothies and snacks with beetroots in whenever possible?” I asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible and not giggle.

He glared and me and fished the bottle out.

“What I’m saying is if you get me a drink with beetroot in, I’m going to make you have it! Now, drink your dirt.” He held the smoothie out to me with a grin.

I took it from him reluctantly.

“Can I at least come and have a look at what you’re packing?” I asked.

He examined me closely as I opened the bottle and took a sip to prove that I would drink it.

“Okay but if you need to sit down or feel faint again, you have to, alright?”

I nodded and followed him around to the back of the car.

It only had my new clothes and a couple of backpacks inside, nothing that looked like it could be used to desecrate a graveyard, as Mitch had said. I watched closely, wanting to ask questions but forcing myself to wait.

“We’re going to need to find somewhere to stash some of your clothes,” he muttered, almost to himself.

“Where do you keep yours?” I asked.

“You’re looking at them,” he said, hefting one of the beaten-up bags out of the boot and depositing them in the front boot of the Porsche. “Keep drinking!”

“Is that it?” I asked, after taking another sip.

I was grateful that I couldn’t taste it because it smelt like a garden and not the nice freshly cut grass smell but the swampy, overgrown kind of garden.

“Nah, I keep some stuff in some leisure centres across the country. You’d be surprised how long you can use a locker in them with just a small bribe,” he grinned as he took the final bag of my clothes out of the car, threw them into the Porsche and slammed the first boot shut.

I looked into the empty boot, confusion running through me.

“Is that everything? Where’s your treasure hunting stuff?” I asked, a little disappointed.

“What treasure hunting stuff?” he asked with a laugh. “You expecting me to just lug around shovels, weapons and that kinda thing?”

“I mean… yeah, kind of?”

He laughed again and returned to the seemingly empty boot.

“You mean… like this?”

He lifted the carpet of the boot with a flourish and stepped out the way for me to get a better look.

A smile slowly grew on my face.

Squeezed in around the spare tyre was the treasure hunting equipment I’d been looking for. Shovels and pickaxes lined the space, barely fitting in, whilst two black hard cases were carefully placed under them.

“What are they?” I asked, pointing at them.

“One of them is my laptop. Top of the range, or at least it was a couple of years back but the second they bring out a new one that can handle all my software, I’m getting it. The other one is a little hard to explain. It’s a machine that scans the ground and produces a picture of what’s underneath. Perfect for grave robbin’.”

He grinned at me toothily.

I looked between them, excitement growing in me.

We were going to do it. We were going to find treasure.

“Where are the weapons?” I asked, taking another gulp of the smoothie as I watched Mitch carefully place the stuff into the boot of the new car, making sure that it was jammed in so that it wouldn’t rattle around and do some damage.

He looked at me, his expression devious.

“Well, I can’t exactly drive around with guns just sitting in the boot! Have you ever tried to explain that to the police? I tried the classic ‘oh, they’re just realistic props’ but they rarely buy that! They’re in the tyre. Plus, a couple of good, easy to grab, locations in the car. Finish that smoothie and help me pull the seats up, will you?”