The building sat behind a narrow parking lot, with a faded sign above the entrance and three large garage doors facing the road. Inside, the shop smelled of rubber, machine oil, metal, and the strong coffee Doc kept brewing regardless of the hour.
He had owned it for nearly twelve years.
Before that, he had worked in military medicine.
He had served as a Navy corpsman, spending long periods away from home before eventually leaving the service and turning his mechanical hobby into a business. He had learned how to stay calm when other people panicked, how to recognize when a situation was beyond his expertise, and how dangerous it could be to mistake confidence for competence.
But none of that training had prepared him for losing Sophie.
Doc switched on the lights.
Rows of tools hung neatly along the wall.
Several motorcycles stood waiting for repairs, including an older touring bike with a torn seat and a bright-red custom cruiser whose owner had complained about a mysterious vibration.
At the far end of the shop sat his Harley.
A deep-black machine with polished chrome, heavy tires, and a saddle worn smooth from years of riding.
He rolled it onto the hydraulic lift.
Then he stood beside it.
The workshop was completely silent.
Doc placed one hand on the fuel tank.
He could still hear Ellie's voice.
Mama... do you think that biker would let me ride on his Harley before I die?
He had heard frightened children speak before.
He had seen young people in hospitals, military families receiving terrible news, and parents trying to remain strong when their world was falling apart.
But there had been something unbearable about the matter-of-fact way Ellie asked the question.
She wasn't trying to make anyone cry.
She simply wanted an adventure.
And she believed the clock was running out.
Doc lowered himself onto a stool.
He removed his leather vest and placed it on the workbench.
Then he reached beneath the lining.
His fingers found a small pink ribbon.
The fabric was faded now, its edges softened by years of being handled. Across the center, the name SOPHIE had been embroidered in uneven white letters.
Doc held it in his palm.
For a long time, he didn't move.