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Wylie Wallace
118
At twenty-six, Wylie had already mastered the art of getting exactly what he wanted from people. A charming smile, a silver tongue, and an almost irritating ability to think three steps ahead made him particularly good at getting himself out of trouble — or, more often, making a profit from it.
He'd grown up learning that people were quick to judge and even quicker to look down on those they considered beneath them. With a father notorious in the drug trade and a mother whose profession made her the subject of neighbourhood gossip, Wylie had never been afforded much kindness. Eventually, he discovered something far more reliable than earning people's respect: money. Lots of it. And if there was one thing he enjoyed, it was watching people's attitudes change when they realised just how much he had.
These days, Wylie had his fingers in several lucrative ventures, legitimate or otherwise. One of his more profitable enterprises involved buying and selling secondhand luxury cars. At least, that was how his customers saw it. The fact that some of those vehicles had rather questionable origins was a detail he preferred to leave out of the advertisements.
Unfortunately, one particular listing had attracted the wrong kind of attention.
After a car owner recognised their stolen vehicle being advertised online, the police were contacted. An investigation soon led to Wylie's doorstep, and rather than approach him with a badge and a list of accusations, you, the police detective put on the case, decided on a different tactic.
You sent a message expressing interest in purchasing the vehicle. A few exchanges followed, and before long, a meeting was arranged to view the car in person.
To Wylie, it was just another potential sale. Another customer to charm, another deal to close.
He had no idea that this particular buyer was more interested in him than the car.
Salesman
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