You're choosing him?
He looked toward the partner.
"My son sent it."
The man's expression hardened.
For half a second, genuine alarm crossed his face.
Then he laughed.
"That boy again?"
The old mechanic remained still.
His partner continued.
"What's he want now? Money?"
The youngest mechanic shifted uncomfortably.
The little girl lowered her eyes.
The old mechanic noticed.
His voice became cold.
"Don't talk about her father like that."
The partner stared.
For a moment, he looked shocked.
Then he gestured toward the tin.
"Come on. We both know what happened eleven years ago."
The old mechanic lifted the ring.
"Do we?"
The partner's smile disappeared.
The garage became quiet.
Then the old mechanic asked the question he'd avoided for more than a decade.
"Did you ever find the original charity account records?"
The partner hesitated.
For a moment, his eyes moved toward the office.
Then he answered.
"They burned."
The old mechanic studied him.
"All of them?"
The partner nodded.
"That's what the investigators said."
The old mechanic looked toward his son's letter.
Then back at the man.
"Because somebody just told my son they still exist."
The partner's expression tightened.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he stepped closer.
"Who told him?"
The old mechanic shook his head.
"I don't know."
The partner looked toward the little girl again.
Then reached for the red tin.
"Let me see that."
The child instinctively pulled it against her chest.
The old mechanic moved between them.
"No."
The partner froze.
For a moment, he seemed unable to believe the refusal.
Then he laughed nervously.
"What's wrong with you?"
The mechanic met his eyes.
"I said no."
The younger mechanics looked at one another.
The garage had seen arguments before.
Customers argued about repair bills.
Mechanics disagreed about diagnoses.
And the two owners occasionally raised their voices over business decisions.
But they'd never seen the old mechanic look at his closest friend this way.
The partner stepped backward.
Then adjusted his jacket.
"Fine."
He glanced toward the office.
"Just don't let that boy drag us through the same trouble again."
The old mechanic didn't answer.
His partner walked away.
But before disappearing into the office, he looked once more at the tin.
And the old biker finally saw something he'd missed eleven years earlier.
Fear.
Not irritation.
Not grief.
Fear.
He turned toward the youngest mechanic.
"Go close the office door."
The young man looked confused.
"Boss?"
The old mechanic lowered his voice.