The rain had weakened.
Elias walked them to Sarah’s old Toyota.
“Your rear tire is almost bald,” he said.
Sarah stared at him.
“What?”
“Passenger side.”
“This seems like a strange time to sell me tires.”
“I don’t sell tires.”
“Then why—”
“Because it’s unsafe.”
She looked exhausted.
“I’ll deal with it.”
“When?”
“When I get paid.”
Elias looked at Lily through the window.
“Bring it to Callahan Custom Cycles tomorrow.”
Sarah blinked.
“You repair motorcycles.”
“And cars when people annoy me.”
“I can’t afford—”
“I didn’t say anything about money.”
“I’m not taking charity.”
“Then consider it payment for making me stand in the rain today.”
That made her smile despite herself.
“You’re very strange.”
“I’ve been told.”
The next morning Sarah arrived at his garage.
So did Deputy Ortiz.
Victor Dane’s car had been located.
Abandoned.
Thirty miles outside town.
And Victor himself was nowhere to be found.
Callahan Custom Cycles occupied an old brick service station at the eastern edge of Hollow Creek.
On most Saturdays the place sounded like engines, classic rock and arguments.
That morning it sounded like worry.
Sarah sat in Elias’s office while Lily colored at a nearby desk.
Deputy Ortiz stood by the window.
“We found Victor’s vehicle near County Road Nine,” she said.
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Any sign of him?”
“No.”
Sarah gripped her coffee.
“So he’s hiding.”
“Possibly.”
“Why abandon the car?”
“Could be trying to avoid being tracked. Could have gotten into another vehicle.”
“Could he have left town?”
“Yes.”
Sarah stared at Lena.
“You don’t believe that.”
The deputy did not answer.
Elias leaned against the doorway.
“Does Victor have friends around here?”
Sarah thought.
“He used to know people through construction.”
“Names?”
“I don’t know them.”
“Family?”
“Parents are dead. Brother lives in Ohio.”
“Any property?”
“He owns a cabin somewhere near Lake Marion.”
Deputy Ortiz looked up sharply.
“Where?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Why didn’t you mention that yesterday?”
“I forgot.”
Lena made a note.
After the deputy left, Sarah remained at the shop.
Elias replaced both rear tires on her Toyota using nearly new ones Marcus had removed from another customer’s vehicle during an upgrade.
Lily wandered through the garage asking questions.
“What does this do?”
“Air compressor.”
“What about that?”
“Tire machine.”
“What’s in there?”
“Tools.”
“What kind?”
“Expensive ones. Don’t touch.”
Lily considered him.
“You sound grumpy.”
“I am grumpy.”
“You were nicer yesterday.”
“It was raining.”
“That makes you nicer?”
“No. You were terrified.”
“Oh.”
She walked away.
Ten minutes later she returned.
“Why do people call you Bear?”
Elias looked toward Marcus.
Marcus pretended to be deeply interested in a motorcycle chain.
“Who told you?”
“That man.”
Elias glared at Marcus.
Marcus shrugged.
“She asked.”
Lily waited.
“Why?”
“Old nickname.”
“You look like a bear.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant your beard.”
“Still thank you.”
“Did you fight people?”
Sarah looked over immediately.
“Lily.”
“What? Bikers fight.”
Marcus laughed.
Elias gave him another murderous look.
Then he turned to Lily.
“Sometimes when I was younger, I fought people.”
“Did you win?”
“Wrong question.”
“What’s the right question?”
“Was the fight necessary?”
Lily frowned.
“Was it?”
“Usually not.”
She seemed disappointed.
Movies had lied to her.
Elias returned to the Toyota.
After several minutes Lily asked, “Do you have kids?”
The wrench in Elias’s hand stopped.
Marcus quietly left the bay.
Sarah noticed.
“You don’t have to answer,” she said.
Elias stared at the tire.
“I had a son.”
The garage seemed suddenly much larger.
Lily looked confused by the past tense.
“What was his name?”
“Jacob.”
“How old was he?”
“Twenty-four.”
Sarah’s eyes softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Elias nodded once.
He hated the phrase but understood there was nothing better.
Lily asked, “Did he ride motorcycles?”
Sarah touched her shoulder.
“That’s enough questions.”
But Elias answered.
“Yes.”
“Like you?”
“Better.”
For the first time, he smiled.
“He was better at almost everything.”
“What happened?”
Sarah said firmly, “Lily.”
This time Elias was grateful.
“Go help Marcus find the valve caps.”
Lily ran off.
Sarah waited until she was out of earshot.
“You don’t have to let her interrogate you.”
“She reminds me of somebody.”
“Jacob?”
“No.”
“Myself before life taught me to shut up.”
Sarah laughed softly.
It faded quickly.
“Can I ask what happened to him?”
Elias looked through the open garage door.
“Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Six years ago.”
“Was he riding?”
“No. That would almost have been easier.”
Sarah waited.
“Drunk driver crossed the center line.”
There was nothing to say to that.
So Sarah did not try.
Elias appreciated her for it.
He finished the tires.
When Sarah reached for her wallet, he shook his head.
“We already discussed this.”
“I have some money.”
“Keep it.”
“You can’t fix things for everyone.”
The sentence hit somewhere unexpected.
Elias looked at her.
“No,” he said. “I know.”
That evening an Iron Harbor meeting was already scheduled.
Normally they discussed charity rides, dues, and whether Marcus should be permanently banned from choosing restaurant locations.
Instead Elias told them about Lily.
Eleven men and four women sat around old tables inside the clubhouse.
Nobody interrupted.
When he finished, June Bell, Marcus’s older sister and the club’s treasurer, asked, “What do you want us to do?”
Elias frowned.
“I didn’t say I wanted anything.”
“You brought it here.”
“So?”
“So you want something.”
He hated when June understood him.
“I want people watching.”
“Watching what?”
“School. Sarah’s workplace. Their neighborhood.”
June shook her head.
“We are not forming a biker patrol around a nine-year-old.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what Marcus is already imagining.”
Marcus looked offended.
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
Elias rubbed his face.
“No intimidation. No confronting anybody. Nothing illegal.”
“Then what?”
“People notice motorcycles.”
June slowly understood.
“You want visibility.”
“Yes.”
If club members happened to drink coffee near the school at dismissal, fine.
If somebody happened to eat lunch across from Meadowbrook Care Center, fine.
Nobody would approach Victor.
Nobody would chase vehicles.
They would observe and report.
June nodded.
“That I can live with.”
For four days, nothing happened.
Then on Wednesday morning, Sarah found an envelope beneath her windshield wiper.
Inside was a photograph.
Lily leaving school.
Taken from across the street.
On the back were six words.
TELL RACHEL I JUST WANT TO TALK.
Sarah called Deputy Ortiz.
Then Elias.
He arrived first.
Sarah stood beside her car trembling.
Lily was already inside school and had not seen the photograph.
Elias put on gloves before touching it.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Sarah said.
“You called.”
“I panicked.”
“That’s usually why people call.”
“What if this makes things worse?”
“What?”
“You. The club. Police.”
Elias looked at her.
“Sarah, he photographed your daughter.”
She stared at the pavement.
“I know.”
“He wants you afraid enough to give him information.”
“I don’t have information.”
“Then he wants you afraid anyway.”
Sarah wiped tears from her face angrily.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Elias’s eyes sharpened.
Sarah immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked toward the school.
“When Jacob was killed, the man who hit him survived.”
Sarah said nothing.
“He had two previous drunk-driving arrests. I spent months believing that if I could hate him enough, something would change.”
Elias’s voice remained flat.
“I went to every hearing. I memorized his address. His family. Everything.”
Sarah turned toward him.
“One night I sat outside his house for two hours.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know.”
He looked at her.
“That was the frightening part.”
“What stopped you?”
“Jacob.”
Sarah frowned.
“He was dead.”
“I know.”
Elias touched the faded patch on his vest.
“But I kept hearing something he used to say.”