by Bruno Miller
“Aw crap!” he muttered. Bolt cutters had chomped through the chain and the gate was partially open.
Chapter Three
Vince reached under his seat for his wood-handled Colt M1911. The .45 ACP-caliber pistol was nearly as old as he was, but it was the gun he was most comfortable using. It had seen him through some tough situations in the past, and carrying it made him feel like he was never alone. He had a permit to carry the sidearm, but with his back bothering him, he’d gotten into the habit of sliding it under the seat while he drove and was sometimes guilty of leaving it there.
Without taking his eyes off the gate, he quickly turned the car off and killed the lights. He immediately regretted the loud exhaust noise that bounced off the building. He should have been more cautious about pulling into the lot, but how was he to know that someone had broken into his shop?
There had been a few break-ins around town in the past few months. The local police department was working on the cases and believed they were all related. Apparently, it was a group that came from out of town between two and four in the morning. But with the interstate at the edge of town and only three full-time officers, the police didn’t have the resources to get anywhere further than that.
At least that was what John Rice had told him, and he should know. John was the sheriff in Cloverdale and a good friend of Vince’s. They’d gone to high school together, and like Vince, John went into the army. The only difference was that John got out after his tour and came right back to Cloverdale. He lucked into a deputy position here and never looked back.
Vince eased his way out of the car and shut the door without letting it latch closed. He was pretty sure the thieves were long gone, but he had to be careful; it was still early and a little dark out. As he approached the gate, he saw a set of tire tracks in the dirt and gravel. He hadn’t missed the intruders by much. If it wasn’t for that second cup of coffee, maybe he would have caught them in the act.
Vince eased the gate open with the tip of the gun and walked around to the back of the building. He grabbed his key and went to unlock the door but stopped.
He shook his head. “Oh great. One more thing to fix around here.” The thieves tried to force their way in through the back door, and from the looks of it, they used a crowbar and sledgehammer. The metal around the deadbolt was dented and battered. Near the handle, the wooden door frame was broken away from the wall and splintered.
Fortunately, the door and the locks, albeit worse for wear, had done their jobs and held off the intruders. Vince was going to have to replace the door and the hardware. “There goes a couple hundred bucks.” Vince rubbed his forehead as he let out a frustrated sigh.
Of all days, this had to happen today. He was hoping for a calm, easy morning so he could get Bill going and get out of here. He would have to call John on the way and let him know they needed to get out to the shop and take a look at what the would-be thieves had done. He was sure John and his guys would want to try and get some prints if they could and figured it would be best to leave the battered door as it was. It didn’t look like it would work, anyway; the deadbolt was damaged so badly he doubted he could even get the key in it anymore.
Vince tucked the handgun into his belt and headed to the front of the shop. He unlocked the main customer entrance, which led to the storefront, and flicked one of the wall switches. One side of the store hummed as the old fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, and he surveyed the room for a moment. It was too early to turn all the lights on; half would be enough to see without spoiling his vision for the darker areas in the back of the building. Everything looked as it should have. Thankfully, the thieves had given up at the back door and not tried to smash their way in through the front. At least he had that going for him; the back door would be a big enough mess for him to deal with. He could handle installing a new door and hardware, but one of the plate-glass windows in the front of the shop would be expensive and something he would have to hire out.
Trying to remain grateful for the little things, Vince made his way past the shelves and coolers of drinks. He was about to head into the back of the building and check on the rest of the place when a set of headlights cut through the dimly lit storefront. He recognized the old Dodge pickup with the off-road lights mounted on the front. It was Bill.
Vince really wanted to check out the back of the building, but he thought he better catch Bill before he touched anything and let him know what was going on. He spun around and headed back out the front door just in time to stop Bill from slipping through the gate.
“Hey, Bill. Wait up.”
“Hey there, Major. Good morning.” Bill tipped his torn and faded baseball hat, which sported the shop’s name along with the American flag across the front.
“We had an attempted break-in here last night,” Vince said.
Bill stepped back. “Oh, you’re kiddin’ me! That’s terrible.”
Vince pointed to the dangling chain on the gate.
“Did they get anything?” Bill asked.
“No, but they made a mess of the back door.” Vince led him around to the back of the shop and showed him the damage.
Bill shook his head. “Oh man. Well, at least they didn’t get in. Is this the only spot?”
“As far as I can tell.” Vince checked his watch. “Look, you know I need to get going this morning, so when one of the other guys gets here, send him down to Mary’s for a new piece of chain. Maybe get something a little thicker, and I guess get a new door ordered. But nobody touches it until John or one of his guys does their thing, got it?”
“You got it, Major.”
“I’ll call John on my way,” Vince added.
“Should I get something to block this door off until we get it fixed?” Bill asked.
“Good thinking. Whoever goes to Mary’s can get some lumber to secure the door.”
Mary Clark ran the only hardware store in town. When her husband passed away several years ago in a bad car accident, most people in town expected she would sell the store and move down to Florida with her daughter. But she didn’t. Instead, a week after the funeral, she opened the store and went on with her life. Vince always admired that about her, and he respected her for her tenacity.
If he wasn’t picking up Cy this morning, he would have gladly gone to see her himself. They had become good friends over the years, and she was easy to talk to. On slower days, he spent many hours talking with her over a cup of coffee at the hardware store. She was only a couple blocks away, and it was an easy walk from the garage. In fact, he was guilty of making the occasional unnecessary run to the hardware store for a few nuts or bolts just to see her smiling face. He tried to play it down, but it was tough to hide the fact that he had a thing for her. It didn’t go unnoticed by the guys at the shop, either, and they never missed a chance to give him a hard time about it.
Bill followed Vince to where their vehicles were parked. Vince paused by his car and pulled the .45 out from his belt and stuffed it back in the holster under the seat in his car. “You got it under control?” he asked.
“No problem. Go get your boy. I got it handled.” Bill tipped his hat again, then climbed into his truck and moved it to a parking spot along the side of the garage. Vince waved and got into his car. The engine rumbled to life as he turned the key, and for a brief moment, he forgot about the break-in.
“Soundin’ good!” Bill called out over the throaty exhaust note, right before he entered the shop and disappeared.
Vince smiled as he took in the sound and put the 1962 Ford Country Squire station wagon in reverse. The car was one of his never-ending projects, and to the casual observer, it probably didn’t look like much, but that was how he liked it.
When Vince found the car at a farm auction some years ago, it was the ugliest thing he had ever seen—in a good sort of way. Complete with the original lime-gold metallic green paint job and chrome accents dulled by years of neglect, the car practically begged to be rescued. Upon closer inspe
ction, Vince realized the car still had the original 390 FE V-8 engine under the hood. He immediately knew he needed to have the car, and he needed to make it go fast.
What the car lacked in looks it made up for in mechanical ability. He completely rebuilt the motor and added a few custom touches of his own. He managed to squeeze 650 horsepower out of the big block engine and wasn’t afraid to use it. The last time Cy came for a visit, he had the carburetor apart and couldn’t take him for a ride. It wasn’t the smartest thing to drive in the snow either; with that much power, it could get away from you in a hurry.
But he had the old wagon running like a top now and was anxious to show it off to Cy. His son would appreciate it. He was a gear-head, just like his dad.
Chapter Four
Vince pulled onto Main Street and headed north toward the interstate access ramp. It was a straight shot up the highway to the Indianapolis International Airport, and I-70 would take him right to the terminal. He wasn’t one for the city and didn’t care for the congestion or overall dirtiness of the place. He did his best to avoid trips there and was very successful. Other than the occasional airport run, he hadn’t been to Indy in years.
He read enough about city life in the Sunday paper to know it was going downhill fast. The headlines alone were enough to deter any sane human being from visiting—at least that was how he felt. Homicides, carjackings, gang violence, and shootings were prominent in all the news he heard and read. There seemed to be a fresh, never-ending supply of violence to fill the Indianapolis Star, which Vince received in his mailbox each Sunday. In the years since he subscribed, the crime section of the paper had certainly grown.
Vince navigated the curve on the access ramp and merged onto the interstate. He rolled the window up as he accelerated. The old wagon responded with a throaty rumble and picked up speed. He didn’t let off the gas until he hit seventy-five miles per hour. The car was running great, and Cy would be impressed. Vince couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the smooth-running engine.
He was grateful that the airport itself was outside of Indianapolis. While it was still crowded and busy, at least he didn’t have to go too far into the craziness or drive through any of the bad areas of town, although that didn’t stop his blood pressure from rising as the city’s skyline came into view. He attributed some of it to nerves. He was excited to see his son but also a little anxious.
Their relationship was solid, but Cy had been struggling lately. Though he was reluctant to open up about it over the phone, he talked about his dissatisfaction with how life was going in more than a few of their emails. He was a mechanic at a custom motorcycle shop outside of Olympia. He didn’t have a stake in the place and felt like he was under appreciated and wasting his time there. He had also recently broken things off with his long-time girlfriend, Kate.
Vince could see the kid wasn’t happy and thought he maybe needed a change of pace. He debated whether or not he should offer him a position at the garage. It wasn’t that Vince didn’t want his son there; he just didn’t want Cy to think he was doing it out of pity. He also didn’t want to limit his son. Cy was a talented mechanic in his own right, although it wasn’t what he’d gone to school for. As a graduate of Seattle Pacific University, Cy had a degree in business administration, but like his father, he had a penchant for all things fast, especially motorcycles. Unable to find a job with his degree after he graduated, he settled for doing something he enjoyed: working on bikes.
Vince doubted Cy would take him up on the offer, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about the possibilities. Cy could move into the old farmhouse with Vince until he got on his feet and found his own place. They could make up for lost time.
Vince shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. He promised he wouldn’t push the issue and would be careful about how he brought it up. Still, it would be good for his son, and he knew it.
Eventually, someday, the garage would be Cy’s anyway. Vince wasn’t getting any younger, and it made sense to him. He would plant the seed on this trip and get Cy thinking about it. At the very least, Vince wanted his son to know he had options.
Fortunately, traffic at this hour wasn’t horrible. On top of that, it was Sunday. Even the city had to sleep sometimes. The traffic he did see comprised a few delivery trucks running their morning routes and the occasional out-of-state SUV loaded with luggage and getting an early start on the day’s driving.
Vince pulled out his phone and glanced back and forth at it until he pulled up John’s number. Might as well make the call now while he had a little time to kill.
John answered on the second ring. “Hey there, Major. What’s going on this morning?”
“Hey, John. Hope I didn’t wake you up,” Vince joked.
“No chance of that. I’m over at the diner. They got broken into last night.”
“Well I hate to add to your list of problems, but somebody tried to break into the garage last night too. Busted the chain on the gate and beat the snot out of the back door.”
“Oh, man. They get in?” John asked.
“No, just tore the place up. Left some nice tire tracks in the gravel too.”
John sighed. “Okay, we’ll head over to your place after we wrap it up here. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Vince could hear the frustration in John’s voice. He and his deputies were already up to their eyeballs with this mess, and he hated adding to their troubles. “I’m on my way to get Cy at the airport,” Vince said. “But Bill’s there. I told him not to touch anything.”
John laughed. “Okay, well you better get off the phone and pay attention. If I know you, you’re doin’ about eighty-five right now.”
Vince chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll catch up with you when I get back into town.”
“All right, talk later.” John hung up.
Vince put the phone down on the seat and glanced at the speedometer. John was wrong anyway: he was going ninety.
Up ahead, he saw the exit for the airport and moved into the left lane. Backing off the throttle a little, he took the long curved exit through the large array of solar panels that stretched out on both sides of the highway in long shiny rows. He was always fascinated by the thought of being off the grid and had done some research on solar energy. A couple of years ago, he had a bank of solar panels installed on the roof of the garage. It didn’t get him totally free of the power company, but it did provide more than half the electricity they needed to run the shop. They worked so well that he planned to put them on the house but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
As he passed the last row of solar panels, the airport came into view. He checked the time. He was a few minutes early, so he relaxed a little and slowed down even more. There were only a handful of cars in sight as he glanced in the rearview mirror and abruptly changed lanes. He veered to the left and followed the sign that read GARAGE AND DAILY PARKING. Since he was here early, he might as well go in and surprise Cy at the security exit. If he could find a kiosk open, maybe Vince would have a coffee waiting for him.
Vince entered the parking garage and noticed how good the car sounded as the exhaust note echoed off the concrete structure. He easily found a spot on the second level, which was where he preferred to park when he came to the airport. It was on the same level as the terminal and just a short jaunt across an enclosed glass walkway. The place wasn’t very busy, and he chalked it up to being so early and a Sunday. He spotted an open coffee shop and ordered a large black coffee for himself. He paused for a second and then ordered Cy a dry cappuccino; that was what he ordered last time he was here at Christmas, when they went to a new bagel and coffee place that recently opened in Cloverdale. Vince barely recognized half the drinks on the menu, so he stuck with his usual, black coffee, just to be safe. In his opinion, the place was too fancy and a little pricey, but he humored his son.
It was going to be so good to have Cy back home for a while—and maybe a lot longer if he accepted Vince’s offer. Either way, they’d ge
t some fishing in and spend some quality time together. Despite the mess back at the shop, Vince was looking forward to the summer.
Chapter Five
Vince scanned the crowd as a group of arriving passengers exited the security area. Cy should be somewhere in this group, and the monitor that displayed flight statuses showed his plane as having landed a few minutes ago.
“Dad!”
Vince heard Cy and then saw him making his way through the crowd. The two embraced for a brief hug as Vince juggled the coffee.
Vince smiled. “So good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“Good to be here. I was expecting to find you at the curb.”
“I got here a little early so I parked and came in. Is that your only bag?” Vince asked.
“Yep, just the one. Nothing to pick up at baggage claim. We can get out of here.”
“Here you go. Dry cappuccino.” Vince handed one of the cups to Cy.
“Oh, nice. Thanks.” Cy took a sip of the hot coffee as the two began to walk.
“So how was the flight?”
“Pretty good. No crying babies or anything like that. I actually had the row to myself so I could stretch out a little.”
Vince looked Cy over and patted him on the back. He was still taking in the fact that his son was finally here. Cy looked a little thin, and Vince wondered if he’d been eating enough. “It’s so good to have you here,” Vince said. “I’ve really been looking forward to your visit.”
Cy smiled. “Well, I’m all yours for a couple weeks.”
“I’m parked close, just across the walkway.” Vince led the way through the entrance and to the enclosed glass pedestrian bridge that led to the multistory parking garage.
“So what are you driving?” Cy asked.
“I brought the wagon, but I’ve made a few changes that I think you’ll like.” Vince pulled out the keys. He was about to hand them over to Cy and offer to let him drive when suddenly an intensely bright flash of light filled the walkway.
