Sophie stood inside the garage wearing pajamas and holding the red notebook against her chest.
Bear looked around.
No forced door.
Window latch scratched.
Cabinet opened.
Workbench disturbed.
The deputy asked:
“Who knew about these records?”
Sophie’s mother shook her head.
“I barely knew they existed.”
Sophie said:
“Grandpa.”
“Anyone else?”
The girl thought.
Then looked at Bear.
“Maybe Voss.”
Bear’s jaw tightened.
But Voss had spent the night in county custody.
He could not have entered the garage.
Which meant one of two things.
Either he was innocent.
Or he had help.
The club mechanic arrived later.
He examined the broken bolt without touching it.
“That’s old.”
“How old?” the investigator asked.
“Maybe twenty years.”
“Could have come from Frank’s crash?”
The mechanic stared.
“Maybe.”
Sophie opened the notebook.
She searched.
Then found a part number.
The mechanic read it.
His face changed.
“That's it.”
Her mother whispered:
“What?”
“Same model.”
Bear looked around the garage.
“Someone didn't just steal records.”
“They left evidence.”
The investigator nodded.
“Or bait.”
Bear’s eyes hardened.
That word mattered.
Bait.
Someone wanted them looking somewhere.
Or wanted Sophie frightened.
It worked on her mother.
That night she packed bags.
Sophie stood in the hallway.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re staying with Aunt Rachel.”
“Why?”
“Because someone broke into our house.”
“They broke into the garage.”
“Sophie.”
“I want to stay.”
Her mother dropped a sweater into the bag harder than necessary.
“This is not an adventure.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Grandpa died.”
“I know.”
“You think because you found that notebook, you have to finish what he started.”
Sophie’s eyes filled.
Her mother continued.
“You do not.”
Sophie looked down.
“Maybe if somebody had finished it before, Grandpa would still be alive.”
The words destroyed the room.
Her mother went still.
Sophie immediately regretted them.
“Mom…”
Her mother sat on the bed.
Covered her face.
Sophie approached.
“I’m sorry.”
Her mother shook her head.
“No.”
“You’re scared.”
“So am I.”
Sophie climbed onto the bed.
Her mother wrapped both arms around her.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Finally Sophie whispered:
“Did Grandpa ever tell you about the club?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You think he was ashamed?”
Her mother looked toward the window.
“No.”
“I think he was trying to keep parts of his life separate.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because once you become a parent, you start believing hiding danger from your child keeps danger away.”
Sophie thought.
“That doesn't work.”
Her mother smiled sadly.
“No.”
“It doesn't.”
They went to Aunt Rachel’s anyway.
Bear arranged quietly for two club members to keep watch on the empty house from a distance.
No leather vests.
No motorcycles.
An old pickup.
Coffee.
Patience.
At 2:14 in the morning, a sedan stopped near the alley.