“No.”
Harold looked between them.
Caleb said:
“Call Detective Cole.”
“Tell her everything.”
“Give her copies.”
“Not me.”
Harold nodded.
Mara exhaled.
Compromise.
Barely.
Before leaving, Harold turned toward Caleb.
“There's something else.”
Mara muttered:
“Of course there is.”
Harold almost smiled.
“The man with the tire iron.”
“What about him?”
“His name is Tyler Knox.”
Caleb frowned.
He knew the name.
Not personally.
From motorcycle charity rides.
Knox’s father owned Ridgeway Customs.
Caleb’s stomach tightened.
Harold left.
Caleb stood in the kitchen long after the door closed.
Mara finally asked:
“What?”
“I met Tyler’s father.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How?”
“Veterans ride.”
Mara’s face changed.
“Does he know you?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“No.”
She wrapped both arms around herself.
Caleb walked toward her.
Mara resisted for half a second.
Then leaned into his chest.
“I can't lose you because of cancer and stupidity at the same time.”
Caleb kissed her hair.
“Pick one?”
She hit his chest.
Not hard.
He winced dramatically.
She immediately looked worried.
“Ribs?”
“Emotionally devastating.”
“Idiot.”
He held her tighter.
Three weeks later, Caleb woke to hair on his pillow.
Not much.
A few strands.
He stared at them.
Then walked into the bathroom.
Ran a hand through his hair.
More came away.
He had expected it.
Still felt betrayed.
Noah found him standing in front of the mirror.
“You're losing it?”
“Looks that way.”
Noah touched his own hair.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Can I shave mine?”
Caleb turned.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you have school pictures Tuesday.”
“So?”
“Your mother will kill both of us.”
Noah smiled.
Caleb opened the drawer.
Clippers.
He held them.
Noah’s face became serious.
“Want help?”
Caleb nodded.
They went to the garage.
Of course.
The garage had become the place where hard conversations happened.
Caleb sat on the same stool beside the Harley.
No dried blood now.
Tank polished.
Noah stood behind him holding clippers with both hands.
Mara entered halfway through and stopped.
Caleb looked ridiculous.
Half his hair gone.
Random patches remaining.
Noah concentrating fiercely.
Mara covered her mouth.
“Do not laugh.”
Caleb warned.
She laughed immediately.
Noah said:
“I’m doing good.”
“You're doing crimes.”
Mara took photos.
Caleb protested.
She took more.
Eventually Mara finished the job.
Short.
Almost bald.