Steve doesn't typically wear a seatbelt, not because he doesn't believe in them but because he knows this car, knows every single inch of it and how it responds to him, knows these roads better than anyone - and he's going to have to get out, fast. He doesn't have time to fiddle with a seatbelt.

"Sort of working on that right now," Steve mutters, thrusting the Camaro into gear and tearing out of the parking lot with only a small squeal of tires. "I only know as much as I heard over the phone that day and what was left behind at the crime scene. My guess, Hesse has my father restrained somehow, tied up."