The mechanic muttered something under his breath.
Sophie asked:
“Did Grandpa know his bike was damaged?”
Her mother shook her head.
“No.”
“But he wrote that Voss had started following him.”
“Calling him.”
“Leaving messages.”
“What messages?”
Her mother hesitated.
“Saying Frank should stop digging.”
Bear’s face darkened.
The mechanic asked:
“Why didn’t Frank go to police earlier?”
“He did.”
Everyone looked at him.
Her mother continued:
“Not officially.”
“He talked to a deputy after Mike Ryan’s crash.”
“But he didn’t have enough.”
“Just patterns.”
“Old repair receipts.”
“Suspicions.”
Bear looked away.
He remembered Ryan.
A man who had survived Afghanistan, rebuilt his life, and died on a clear road less than four miles from home.
Everyone said speed.
Bear had believed it.
The guilt arrived quietly.
“What else?”
The mother swallowed.
“Frank said if he died before he could prove it, somebody needed to compare his fork fracture with the earlier crashes.”
Sophie stared at the red notebook.
“He knew.”
“He suspected.”
Bear corrected softly.
Sophie looked toward him.
“He knew enough to write that.”
“Yes.”
Bear's voice broke slightly.
“He knew enough.”
The investigator called again before dinner.
This time he asked Bear to come to the station.
Only Bear.
Sophie immediately stood.
Her mother said:
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
Bear agreed.
“I’ll tell you what I can afterward.”
Sophie crossed her arms.
“I hate that sentence.”
“Good.”
Bear reached for his vest.
“You’ll hear it frequently as an adult.”
He left.
The reason became clear that evening.
Inside Frank’s sealed envelope had been a second list.
Not victims.
Potential targets.
Bear’s name was on it.
Beside the name, Frank had written:
BEAR DOESN’T KNOW VOSS BLAMES HIM FOR 1999.
Bear read that line three times.
The investigator asked:
“What happened in 1999?”
Bear knew immediately.
He wished he did not.
He was twenty-four.
Still new to the club.
Leon Voss had installed an experimental modification on a rider’s motorcycle.
Frank objected.
Public argument.
Voss insisted the work was safe.
Frank wanted it removed.
Bear had sided with Frank.
Not because Bear understood the engineering.
Because he trusted Frank.
Voss lost the club’s business.
Then the rider whose motorcycle had been modified crashed two months later.
He survived but never rode again.
The club blamed Voss.
Bear had been the one who told him never to return.
Voss never forgot.
Bear looked across the metal interview table.
“I thought he hated Frank.”
The investigator answered:
“Looks like he kept a list.”
Bear’s stomach tightened.
“How many?”
“We’re still determining that.”
“Am I on it because of then?”
“Maybe.”
“Or because of six months ago.”
The charity event.
Bear blocking Voss from offering unlicensed inspections.
The investigator leaned forward.
“You need to understand something.”