He was Lacy's father.
He had grease on his hands, a tool belt around his waist, and an expression that suggested he had no idea why he had been summoned.
Then he saw the camera.
His face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
Dean pointed toward the ceiling.
"Your daughter found it."
Gary looked at Lacy.
"You?"
She nodded.
Gary crouched beside her.
"You went inside the clubhouse?"
"Only for my ball."
"You know you're not supposed to."
"I know."
Gary sighed.
Then he looked at the camera.
He became serious.
"Where was it?"
Dean showed him.
Gary examined the wire.
"Nobody installed this by accident."
"Can you tell what it is?"
"Wireless transmitter. Tiny board. Relay antenna."
He opened the casing carefully.
"Probably installed within the last couple weeks."
Dean crossed his arms.
"Can you trace it?"
"Maybe."
Gary looked at his daughter.
"How did you spot it?"
"The dust."
Gary stared at her.
Then he smiled.
"Good eyes, Lace."
Dean laughed.
"That's what I said."
Gary packed the camera into a plastic evidence bag.
"What are you going to do with it?"
Dean's answer was immediate.
"Find out who put it there."
Lacy looked between them.
"Is someone spying on you?"
Nobody answered.
That frightened her more than any answer could have.
Finally Dean crouched down so he was at her eye level.
"We don't know yet."
"Are you scared?"
Dean thought about the question.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because now we know someone is watching."
He stood.
"And people who know they're being watched can start watching back."
That night, Lacy went home with her father.
She sat in the passenger seat while the evidence bag rested between them.
After several minutes, she asked:
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Did I do something wrong?"
Gary looked at her.
"No."
"I shouldn't have gone inside."
"You shouldn't have."
Lacy lowered her eyes.
"But..."
"But I'm proud of you."
She looked up.
"Really?"
Gary nodded.
"You saw something grown-ups missed."
He smiled.
"Never be ashamed of paying attention."
Outside the truck window, the clubhouse disappeared behind them.
Neither father nor daughter noticed the dark vehicle parked across the street.
Inside that vehicle, a man watched the truck disappear.
Then he picked up his phone.
"She found it."
A pause.
The man listened.
Then he answered quietly.
"Yes."
Another pause.
"Don't worry."
He looked toward the Iron Jaws clubhouse.
"They still don't know why."
The Hidden Network
The next morning, the Iron Jaws clubhouse looked different.
Not because anything had physically changed.
The motorcycles were still lined up.
The coffee machine still rattled.
Randy still complained about his knees.
But everyone was looking upward.
Gary had brought specialized equipment from his electrical business.
He spent the morning checking ceiling panels, wall outlets, light fixtures, ventilation ducts, and even the bathroom exhaust fan.
By noon, the club had found no additional cameras.
That should have been reassuring.
It wasn't.
"Nothing else inside," Gary said.
Dean stood beside him.
"Then why does the signal keep appearing?"
Gary pointed to his laptop.
"Because whoever installed the camera wasn't transmitting directly."
Dean frowned.
"Explain."
"The device sends its signal to something nearby."
"A receiver?"
"Exactly."
"Where?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
A small beeping sound came from the laptop.
Gary leaned closer.
"There."
Dean approached.
"Local?"
"Very."
"How local?"
"Less than half a mile."
Dean stared at the screen.
Gary zoomed in.
The signal bounced between several points.
Then stabilized.
"There's the strongest hit."
Dean read the location.
His expression changed.
"Storage units."
Gary nodded.
"Just east of the clubhouse."
Dean rubbed his jaw.
"That's my property."
"What?"
"I own the building."
He stared at the map.
"Some of the units are leased."
"To whom?"
"Randy handles the paperwork."
Randy walked over.
"Handles what paperwork?"
Dean turned.
"Storage Unit 14B."
Randy's face became confused.
"14B?"
"Yes."
"I don't remember leasing it."
"Check."
Randy disappeared into the office.
Five minutes later, he returned holding a folder.
"Here."
Dean opened it.
The paperwork looked legitimate.
The renter was listed as:
IRON JAWS MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE FUND.
Dean frowned.
"What's that?"
Randy shook his head.
"Never heard of it."
Gary took the document.
"This is fake."
Dean looked at him.
"How do you know?"
"Because the database code on this page doesn't exist."
Gary pointed.
"Someone copied an old administrative template."
"Why?"
Gary looked toward the camera.
"To create a paper trail."
Dean understood.
"They want evidence."
"Exactly."
Before they could say more, the clubhouse door opened.
Lacy walked in.
She wore a crooked denim vest with an Iron Jaws patch sewn upside down.
Dean stared.
"What's that?"
"My vest."
"Who gave you that?"
"Randy."
Randy shrugged.
"She earned it."
Lacy walked toward the table.
She carried a tablet.
"I found something."
Dean smiled.
"Of course you did."
Gary shook his head.
"Lacy..."
"What?"
"You can't just investigate things."
"Why?"
"Because you're nine."
She looked at him.
"Does being nine make me wrong?"
Gary opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Dean laughed.
"She's got you there."
Lacy turned the tablet toward them.
"I searched for unusual wireless activity around the clubhouse."