The light bulb suddenly went on. “Oh,” I said, feeling even more stupid. The most likely explanation for the hidden bike was that Brown had needed to make a short pit stop, something that was physiologically and socially easier for boys than for girls.

“The location of Mr. Bernier’s bicycle was noted carefully and we are now considering it a crime scene.” Hal eyed me and, in addition to feeling dumb, I was suddenly feeling he was disappointed in me for not catching on to . . . something. And then I had it.

“That car!”

The one that had been speeding so fast it had taken a wide swing around a curve and almost sideswiped us. The one I’d forgotten about in the wake of coming across Brown. There had been no other roads or driveways in those last couple of miles; the car must have seen Brown. Or . . .

“Do you think . . .” My voice was coming out high and tight. I stopped, coughed, and tried again. “Do you think whoever was driving that car is the killer?”

“We don’t know,” Ash said. “But the driver must have seen Brown in the roadway, and we definitely want to find him. Or her.”

I thought about it for a moment. “It just stands to reason that the driver killed Brown. Otherwise why would he—or she—be speeding like that?”

Ash started spouting a number of theories ranging from a suspended driver’s license to a general fear of getting involved. Midway through his recitation, I started shaking my head but caught Hal’s gaze. He half smiled and nodded at me.

I settled back down into my chair and listened to Ash ramble on.

Let him spin out as many theories as he wanted. It didn’t matter. Because Hal and I agreed. The car’s driver was almost certainly the killer.

Now all we had to do was find him.

Or her.

*   *   *

“Hail, Minerva, well met!” The bearlike Trock Farrand enveloped me in a hug so vast I thought I might disappear forever into his front side, which was currently a cooking apron smelling like whatever it was he and Kristen Jurek, my best friend other than Rafe, had been cooking the last few hours.

Through a tiny gap between Trock’s elbow and ribs, I could see Kristen look up from the pot she was stirring. “Trock, you’re squishing her. I’m not sure she can breathe.”

“Nonsense,” he bellowed over the top of my head. But he released me. “Minnie, dear heart, it has been far too long since I’ve seen you.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek with a smack. “What have you been doing with yourself all these long lonely months I’ve been without you?”