“Who?”
“We don't know.”
The wind moved dust across the road.
Evelyn looked at the building.
Something about the story bothered her.
The attackers had taken phones.
Wallets.
Keys.
But they had left the men alive.
That meant the men had value.
Someone wanted something.
And if that someone came back, Evelyn would be there.
She didn't like that.
But she wasn't leaving.
Ryan looked at her.
“You should go.”
“No.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“We're dangerous.”
Evelyn looked at his dried blood.
“Right now you're four dehydrated men with bruised ribs.”
Derek almost smiled.
Evelyn pointed at him.
“And you need medical attention.”
“I'll be fine.”
“That's what Earl used to say.”
“Who?”
“My husband.”
Derek looked at the toolbox.
“You said he owned this place.”
“He did.”
“Was he a mechanic?”
“Among other things.”
“What else?”
Evelyn looked toward the building.
“He was a lot of things.”
That was all she said.
As evening approached, Evelyn made a decision.
The men needed help.
Not police.
Not yet.
She didn't know who had attacked them.
She didn't know whether the attackers were local.
She didn't know whether someone inside law enforcement was involved.
She only knew four men had been held prisoner.
And she knew one thing about the highway.
There was an old emergency radio in her office.
Earl had installed it decades earlier.
It still worked.
Barely.
She walked inside.
Ryan watched her disappear through the doorway.
“What is she doing?”
Derek shrugged.
“Whatever she wants.”
Nathan looked at him.
“You trust her?”
Derek thought about the woman who had walked back after being told to leave.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Derek looked at the bolt cutters.
“Because she came back.”
Earl's Toolbox
Evelyn's office hadn't changed much.
The desk still held Earl's old calculator.
A calendar from the year he died remained pinned to the wall.
There was a coffee stain on the corner of a ledger.
She had never cleaned it.
She walked past the memories and opened the bottom drawer.
Inside was the emergency radio.
She turned it on.
Static.
Then a voice.
“County dispatch.”
Evelyn picked up the microphone.
“This is Evelyn Harper at the old Harper repair station off Highway 87.”
A pause.
“Evelyn?”
The dispatcher recognized her.
“What's happening?”
Evelyn looked through the window.
Four men sat outside.
“I'm not sure how to describe it.”
“Try.”
“I have four injured men on my property.”
“Are they threatening you?”
“No.”
“Are they armed?”
“I don't believe so.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“They're members of the Iron Brotherhood.”
The dispatcher went quiet.
Then:
“Evelyn, you need to leave.”
“No.”
“You don't understand who you're dealing with.”
“I understand exactly who I'm dealing with.”
“You need to get somewhere safe.”
Evelyn looked at the four men.
“Send medical assistance.”
“Are you in danger?”
“I don't know.”
That answer mattered.
The dispatcher promised to send a patrol unit.
Evelyn returned outside.
Ryan looked concerned.
“You called someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“County.”
All four men reacted.
Derek stood.
“No.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Sit down.”
“You don't know what you're doing.”
“I know exactly what I'm doing.”
“They could arrest us.”
“For being kidnapped?”
“You think they'll believe that?”
Evelyn's expression changed.
“Why wouldn't they?”
Ryan looked away.
He didn't answer.
That told Evelyn more than words.
She sat beside him.
“Tell me.”
Ryan rubbed his face.
“We have history.”
“What kind?”
“Fights.”
“Criminal?”
“Some.”
“Convictions?”
“Some.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Then you understand why I don't care.”
Ryan stared.
“What?”
“I don't care what you did five years ago.”
She pointed toward the chains.
“Today, you were chained to a wall.”
She looked him in the eyes.
“That is what happened today.”
Ryan swallowed.
Evelyn continued.
“If the law wants to investigate your past, that's their business.”
She paused.
“But nobody gets to decide you're guilty of something simply because they don't like how you look.”
Derek looked at her.
“You're different.”
“No.”
Evelyn smiled.
“I've just lived long enough to know better.”
The patrol arrived twenty minutes later.
Two deputies approached cautiously.
One was young.
The other was older.
The older deputy recognized Evelyn.
“Mrs. Harper.”
“Deputy Collins.”
His eyes moved to the men.
“Are these the Iron Brotherhood riders?”
“Yes.”
“Are they injured?”
“Yes.”
“Are they armed?”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened?”
Evelyn pointed toward the chains.
“They were held here.”
The deputy walked over.
He examined the locks.
His expression changed.
“Who did this?”
The men shook their heads.
“We don't know.”
Then Evelyn noticed something.
The younger deputy was looking at the toolbox.
Specifically at the engraving on the lid.
E. HARPER — 1971
He asked,
“Was this your husband's?”
“Yes.”
“My father used to bring his truck here.”
Evelyn smiled.
“What's his name?”
“Thomas Price.”
“I remember him.”
The deputy looked surprised.
“You do?”
“Your father had a blue Ford with a transmission problem.”
He laughed.
“That sounds like him.”
For a brief moment, the tension broke.
Then Deputy Collins found something in the dirt.
A shell casing.
He crouched.
Picked it up.
“Mrs. Harper.”
“Yes?”
“Did you hear gunshots?”
“No.”
He looked toward the road.
“This isn't from your property.”
“What does that mean?”
He didn't answer.
Instead he called for additional units.
The investigation had changed.
This was no longer simply four men found at an abandoned shop.
Someone had attacked them.
Someone had transported them.