“Read the fine print. It’s there.” I parked and got out. “I’m not leaving you to walk my bike two miles.”

We argued for a minute. Then he gave me my bike and started walking ... south, away from his car.

“they!” I called. “Where—?”

He flagged down an approaching pickup. The old guy stopped, which probably had something to do with the badge Michael was waving. He explained that we needed a lift. The guy assumed it was police business and grumbled, but didn’t argue. Michael and I loaded the bike into the back, then he waved me to his car.

“I’ll go with him.” He held up a hand against my protest. “I’m protecting the old guy, not you. Pretty girl in the passenger seat, he might not be able to help himself, and I don’t think he wants to spend the rest of the day in the hospital.” He walked to the truck. “See you in town.”

NOT SURPRISINGLY, THE garage didn’t carry my tires. There wasn’t even a mechanic on duty, just a kid fresh out of high school who “knew a lot about cars.” He liked my bike, though. Liked Michael’s car even better, and declared that he was definitely moving to Portland or Seattle next year, as if life in a big city came with keys to a sweet ride.

He called two other garages trying to get me a tire. Neither had one, but they recommended a bike shop in Vancouver. He called and they had one in stock and would hold it for me until they closed at seven.

“I’ll give you a lift,” Michael said as we drove off, leaving my bike behind the shop.

“You really are sorry, aren’t you? No. We both have a case to work and you’ve already spent most of the day on a wild-goose chase.”

“You can’t investigate without wheels, Savannah, and the nearest car rental is in Vancouver. I checked when mine was acting up.”

“All right then. Pick me up at my motel at five-thirty. We’ll grab the tire, then I’ll take you out. I promise to feed you only dinner—no more false leads.” I glanced out the window. “Oh, can you drop me off here? I’ve got some legwork to do.”

He parked on Main Street. “So, are you going to tell me what happened with the bike?”

“Tire blew.”

“I saw that. If there was an ongoing problem with it, though, you would have noticed. And if you’d run over something, you would have stopped.”

I told him what happened. When he finished cursing out Cody, I said, “I could be wrong. Maybe I did just run over a nail or something.”

“And he just happened to drive past slowly to admire the scenery?”

“I’m trying not to be paranoid.”