Caleb looked toward the door.
“I’m leaving.”
Rourke didn't stop him.
Caleb walked three steps.
Then the red-bearded biker said:
“We found the money.”
Caleb stopped.
Rourke closed his eyes briefly.
Caleb turned.
“What?”
The man realized he had spoken out of turn.
But the truth was already loose.
“Years later.”
Caleb looked at Rourke.
“You found it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Account tied to another member.”
“Who?”
Rourke hesitated.
Caleb shouted:
“Who?”
“Wade.”
Silence.
Caleb stared.
“The guy who broke my dad’s jaw?”
“Yes.”
“He stole the money?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
Rourke looked ashamed.
“Eight years.”
Caleb could barely process it.
“You knew eight years later.”
“Yes.”
“And you found my dad?”
“No.”
“You didn't try?”
“We tried.”
“You knew his name.”
“He stopped using Mercer professionally.”
Caleb frowned.
“What?”
“Your dad’s birth name was Daniel Markham.”
Caleb’s stomach turned.
“No.”
Rourke continued.
“Mercer was your mother’s name.”
Caleb shook his head.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“My dad was Daniel Mercer.”
“He became Daniel Mercer.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted a new life.”
Caleb stepped backward again.
The garage suddenly felt too small.
His father’s name.
His job.
His history.
All of it shifting.
Rourke saw panic replacing anger.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Caleb.”
“No.”
“Just breathe.”
“Don't tell me to breathe.”
Rourke nodded immediately.
Fair.
Caleb grabbed his backpack.
“I came for a job.”
“You still can have one.”
Caleb laughed bitterly.
“You think I want to work for you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But I think you deserve the truth.”
Caleb looked at him.
“Did my dad ever forgive you?”
Rourke didn't answer.
That was enough.
Caleb turned.
Walked toward the open bay.
Rourke said:
“He saved my life.”
Caleb stopped.
The words came quietly.
No audience.
No performance.
“He saved all of us.”
Caleb remained facing the parking lot.
Rourke continued.
“Three years after the theft, before we knew he was innocent, I got a call.”
“From who?”
“Highway patrol.”
Caleb turned slowly.
“Why?”
“Motorcycle crash.”
Rourke touched his ribs unconsciously.
“I went off a mountain road.”
“Bad.”
“Your dad was driving a tow truck on the same highway.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed.
“He recognized you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He climbed down after me.”
Rourke looked toward the concrete.
“Pulled me away from the bike.”
“Stayed until rescue arrived.”
Caleb shook his head.
“After you accused him?”
“Yes.”
“After you hit him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”