The Sergeant's deadline is tonight. An offer to get in contact with people you know, yet also a threat. Given how fed up he was, it's unlikely he's joking about the kind of cruelty he's willing to go through for the sake of getting what he wants.
That's why it may not be so surprising that, early in Friday morning, there's this air of tension, despite the bright sun in the sky. It doesn't help that a firetruck and a couple patrolcars race through the streets, passing in front of the motel and going west. The reason why is clear after a single glance:
There's a thick column of black smoke emanating from somewhere inside the Junkyard.
[Funny you ask those two specific questions, because in the trashcan you're looking at, the answer to both is 'no'. In fact, all of these knives are very rusted -- more specifically, with the kind of rust found only in the Junkyard.
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No blood on any of these knives, though.