Chapter 8: Edge

8

EDGE

T he next day, I stopped by the clubhouse to see Byte before I got started working on Evie's car.

"Sorry to bother you again. I should've asked yesterday," I started. "Can you find out what's going on with the investigation of Randall's murder?"

"Sure," Byte said. "Is there something specific you want to know?"

"Since they dismissed the charges against Carl and Ken, I want to know if they have anyone listed as a suspect. I also want to know if Evie's name is mentioned anywhere." As I was lying in bed the night before thinking about her situation, it occurred to me that Evie's disappearance immediately after her roommate's murder wouldn't go unnoticed and would likely be interpreted in one of two ways—she was guilty and ran, or she was also a victim.

"I should be able to find that out for you. Not sure how long it will take, though. Do you want to wait, or do you want me to call you with the info?"

"Call me," I said. "I need to head over to the garage and take a look at her car."

"Will do," he said and opened his laptop to get started.

When I arrived at the garage, I made myself a cup of coffee and began inspecting her vehicle. Based on her description of the problem, there were a few things that could be the culprit. I started with the most common issue and worked my way through a mental checklist of possibilities.

By the time I was finished, I wondered how the damn thing lasted as long as it did. She had not kept up on the maintenance whatsoever. The oil was basically sludge, her air filter was caked in filth, and the ends of her spark plugs were burned to a crisp.

I was pretty sure I knew what the problem was, but I hoped I was wrong. After trying and failing to rotate the crankshaft pulley with a breaker bar, I knew I was right. She had a seized engine.

"Damn it," I swore and tilted my head toward the sky.

"Something wrong?" Dice asked.

"There's nothing I can do," I said. "This engine's toast."

"You sure?"

"Oh, yeah," I said and told him the steps I'd already taken. Then I showed him the oil.

He let out a low whistle and grimaced. "Yeah, no one's fixing that."

I'd been hoping for an easy repair so Evie could trade her car for something else. With the seized engine, she was more or less screwed. It wouldn't be cost effective to replace the engine and then trade the car. She'd be better off just buying another vehicle, but I knew she couldn't afford to. Not without taking out a loan, which I also knew she couldn't do.

Before I could think of a solution, Byte called.

"I don't have great news," he said without preamble. "She's been named as a person of interest."

"Fucking hell," I grumbled.

"There's more. They issued an APB for her. It has her picture, physical description, the make and model of her car, and her tag number."

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

After Byte's phone call, one thing was certain—her car had to disappear. Even though I would have advised her against it, repairing the engine and trading it was no longer an option.

Exhaling slowly, I leaned against the hood of her car and tried to think of a solution that would work for her, as well as one she would agree to. After two more cups of coffee and a solid hour of brainstorming, I finally came up with something that might work.

Evie smiled when she opened the door for me. "Hey, Edge," she said and gestured for me to come inside. "I'm almost ready to go."

"Take your time." I struggled to keep my face neutral, knowing I was about to wipe the smile off her pretty face. Figuring it was best to get it over with, I cleared my throat and said, "I need to talk to you about your car."

"That doesn't sound like good news."

"I'm afraid it's not."

"What's wrong with it?" she asked hesitantly.

"The engine needs to be replaced."

"Are you serious?"

I nodded. "It looked like the oil hadn't been changed in a while and that caused the engine to seize. Once that happens, it can't be repaired."

She closed her eyes and used one hand to rub her forehead. "Damn it. Whenever my car needed something done, I gave Randall the money and he took care of it. It never occurred to me he was lying to me and keeping the money for himself."

"There's sort of a silver lining," I said. "Well, it's more of a tarnished silver lining."

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"Maybe not, but you need to know," I said and paused to choose my words carefully. "I was thinking about your situation and asked Byte to see what else he could find regarding Randall's death." There was no easy way to break the news, so I just told her like it was told to me. "You're listed as a person of interest. An APB was issued with your picture and a description of you and your car, including your license plate number."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. "A person of interest? What does that even mean?"

"In this case, it probably means they think you're a suspect, but they don't have enough evidence to prove it yet. They want to bring you in for questioning to see what they can get out of you."

"Great. That's just fucking great," she said and began to pace. "What am I going to do now?"

"You don't have to do anything. They can't question you if they can't find you."

Exhaling heavily, she said, "Yeah, I guess you're right." She stopped pacing and turned to face me. "Wait. What's the silver lining you mentioned?"

"You might have been found if your car hadn't crapped out on you."

"I see what you mean about it being tarnished," she sighed. "I can't afford to buy a new car right now, even if it's a bottom of the barrel used one. And since I can't get a loan for one, I guess it's back to the bike."

"About that," I said and held up one finger to stop her protest. "Hear me out first. What if Irene put the loan for the car in her name and you made the payments?"

"I couldn't ask her to do that," she said. "She's already gone above and beyond to help me."

"What if she offered without you asking? What would you say then?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What did you do?"

I held my hands up in surrender. "I didn't do anything. I merely told Irene what was going on with your car. She suggested getting a loan for you. She was going to call you herself, but I told her I'd talk to you about it after I gave you the news about your car." My explanation wasn't entirely honest. In truth, I was going to pay for her car. Since I knew Evie wouldn't go for that, I asked Irene if she had any ideas. That prompted Irene to volunteer herself as the middleman. Evie would pay Irene, and Irene would, in turn, pay me.

Evie's eyes suddenly widened. "Does she know about what happened with Randall?"

"No," I assured her. "She obviously knows you came from a bad situation, but that's your story to tell if and when you choose to."

She nodded in acknowledgment, but remained silent for several minutes. Finally, she said, "I guess I should figure out what I can afford and start looking for a new car."

"Do you want to go look at some used car lots instead of going to the shooting range?" I asked.

"Yes, if you're sure you don't mind."

"Mind? I work on cars for a living. I'd be offended if you didn't ask me to go with you," I teased.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"It's not a hardship," I said honestly. I enjoyed being around her and genuinely wanted to get to know her better. "Are you ready to go now?"

"As ready as I'm going to be."

Once we were in my truck, she pulled out her phone and started tapping away. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Trying to figure out my price range," she said distractedly.

"Keep in mind, Irene's not going to charge you interest," I told her.

"She's not?"

"Of course not," I laughed. "You have met her, right?" Even though I was the one who wouldn't be charging her interest, I knew Irene wouldn't either if she were the one behind the loan. She was out to help people, not make a profit off them.

"She really is a saint. I'll never be able to repay her for everything she's done for me."

"Yes, you will. Getting on your feet and living a happy life is all she wants in return," I said. "Bonus points if you're able to do some good for someone else down the line."

"Is that why Byte does the things he does?"

"I never really thought about it like that, but it probably is. I mean, most of the stuff is club related, but he does more than is expected of him," I said.

When I pulled into a used car lot a few minutes later, I turned to her and said, "No matter what you're thinking, try to act neutral while we're looking. If you act overly excited about a vehicle or seem desperate, they might be less inclined to negotiate on the price."

"How about I let you do the talking?" she suggested. "As long as it will get me to and from work, I'm good."

"I think we can do a little better than that," I said. I was going to make sure she had something reliable and safe, even if I had to work on it myself.

The first place was a bust. The lot was full of vehicles with mechanical problems hidden behind shiny exteriors and immaculately clean interiors.

"And that's called putting lipstick on a pig," I said once we were on our way to another dealership.

"I'm glad you came with me. I had no idea and probably would have tried to buy the first one that looked okay to me," she said.

"That's what they were counting on."

We went to dealer after dealer, but we didn't find anything suitable for her. I watched Evie's disappointment grow each time we left a car lot with no prospects.

"You okay over there?"

She sighed heavily. "This is beginning to seem like a pointless endeavor."

"Car shopping isn't easy. It can take a while to find the right one."

"I don't want to monopolize so much of your time."

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's fine. I knew what I was getting into when I offered to help."

"It seems like we've been all over Cedar Valley. How many more used car places can there be?"

"Not many, but there's still all the cars for sale by owner, and we can always look in areas nearby, like Croftridge. There might even be a police auction coming up."

"Oh, no," she said. "While I'm willing to drive around in almost anything with wheels, I draw the line at some drug dealer's confiscated car. With my luck, one of his cronies would see me rolling around town in it and come after me."

"My initial response was to say that wouldn't happen, but you have had some pretty shitty luck lately. So, yeah, we'll cross the police auction off the list," I laughed.

We stopped at two more car lots before calling it a day. She was tired, and I didn't think I could exchange fake pleasantries with one more salesperson without losing my shit. They were like mosquitoes at a bloodbath, flocking to us the moment we stepped out of my truck.

"You hungry?" I asked.

When she turned to me, I knew exactly what she was thinking by the look on her face.

"For fast-food. Something with a drive-thru. I don't want to go in anywhere," I clarified.

She exhaled in relief. "Then, yes. I could eat."

"Taco Bell?"

She smiled broadly. "Yes, please. I love Taco Bell."

We went through the drive-thru and ordered a ridiculous amount of food that we took back to her place to eat.

"I haven't had Taco Bell in a long time. Please don't judge me for how much I'm going to eat."

I laughed. "No judgment here. I'm about to eat my weight in tacos."

When she took a bite of a burrito and moaned in delight, I had to quickly look away before she caught me staring at her. The pure unadulterated pleasure on her face from something as simple as a fast-food burrito was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen.

"This is so good," she said around a mouthful of food.

"Yes, it is," I agreed and focused on my own food, so I didn't stare at her and inadvertently make her self-conscious.

After we finished eating, I helped her clean off the table while trying to think of a reason to stay, because I wasn't ready to leave.

"Do you want to look online and see if we can find some used cars to look at?" I asked.

"Sure, if you have time. I don't want to keep you from anything."

"You're not," I assured her and pointed toward the door. "I'm going to grab my tablet from the truck. I'll be right back."

"I don't have Wi-Fi," she said apologetically.

"Not a problem. We can use my phone as a hot spot, but I need a bigger screen to see what I'm looking at."

She laughed. "I know what you mean. I have to squint and hold my phone at just the right angle if I want to read anything on the screen."

When I returned with my tablet, we settled on the couch and started browsing through the classified ads. In order for both of us to see the screen, we had to sit so close together that we were touching from shoulders to thighs. It was awkward and uncomfortable. I tolerated it for as long as I could before I raised my arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. She automatically settled against my chest and continued scrolling through the listings as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn't seem to notice the minor position change, and I didn't point it out.

I'm not sure when it happened, or who was first, but at some point, we both fell asleep.