Once he was gone, I set out again. I kept a watch on the horizon, in case he doubled back. He didn’t. I’d gotten as far as the spot where I hid my bike when I heard the purr of a performance engine behind me. I turned to see a black BMW.

Michael Kennedy. My day was now complete.

I continued walking, expecting, hoping, he’d drive past with a honk and a wave, happy to see me suffering after I’d sent him on a wild-goose chase. Instead, he slowed and drove beside me in silence for a minute.

Finally he rolled down the window. “Are you okay?”

“Better than my bike,” I said, gesturing to where I’d hidden it.

“One could say this is karma.”

“Yeah, yeah. So how was your visit to Cougar?”

“A wasted morning, which I completely deserved. I promised I wouldn’t fish for leads, and that’s exactly what I did.”

“Because that’s exactly why you asked me out.”

“What? No. I wouldn’t—”

He met my gaze and the denial dried up. He swore, blushing, and pulled ahead onto the shoulder and got out.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was a jerk and my only excuse—”

“—is that you want to find your sister’s killer. I get that. But I’m not competing with you, Detective Kennedy. If you’d asked what I’d found, I would have told you. I just don’t like being played.”

He nodded, walked over, and handed me the keys. “Drive her back. I’ll walk the bike and meet you at the garage. There’s one just off Main.”

I’d seen it—the former town gas station, now just a garage. I took the keys, got in his car, and waited for his reaction. Offering to take my bike was a nice gesture, but it was just that—a gesture. He didn’t expect me to take him up on it.

I started the engine. He retrieved my bike and began walking. I rolled the car up beside him.

“You’re okay with this?”

“I offered, didn’t I? Just be careful. Driving without a license ... I hate to sound like a cop, but you could get in a lot of trouble.”

I stopped the car. “You’re right. You should—”

“No, I was just saying to take it easy.” When I hesitated, he waved me on. “Go. You’re slowing me down.”

I reached into my pocket and held up a card. My driver’s license.

“I thought you said—”

“Implied, never said.”

He laughed and waved me on again. I drove a quarter mile, then circled back and came up beside him again.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I said.

“Uh, yeah. I’m serious about the apology, too. I was a jerk.”

“You’re a cop. You’re supposed to be a jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s in the code.”