Not as joke.
As someone worth listening to.
He swallowed.
Jim looked away to give privacy.
Dave did not know where to look.
Leo whispered:
“He wrote this before he got sick.”
Rusty nodded.
“Probably.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
Leo held note tighter.
Jim touched boy’s shoulder lightly.
“You okay?”
Leo nodded too fast.
Then tears came anyway.
He hated.
He wiped.
Grease spread across cheek.
Jim crouched, enormous man reducing himself to boy’s height.
“Your dad trusted you.”
Leo shook head.
“He just knew I listened.”
Jim smiled.
“That is trust.”
Leo looked at photograph.
“Can I keep?”
“It belongs to you.”
Rusty said quickly:
“Everything in locker belongs to your mother legally.”
Jim glanced at him.
Rusty shrugged.
“What? I’m being responsible.”
Leo hugged green case to chest.
They brought parts upstairs.
The mechanics worked until nearly midnight.
Leo’s mother arrived at 6:20 and almost ended entire operation.
Maria Hayes entered Apex Iron Works wearing navy scrubs beneath a thrift-store coat, still carrying a hospital cafeteria badge.
She was thirty-five, exhausted, dark-haired, and had been working double shifts in food services since Arthur died.
She saw Leo standing on milk crate beside dismantled motorcycle.
Then six bikers.
Then Jim.
Her expression hardened.
“Leo.”
The boy froze.
“Hi, Mom.”
“What are you doing?”
Rusty stepped forward.
“Maria—”
“I asked him.”
Leo climbed down.
“I was helping.”
“You were supposed to sweep until six.”
“I did.”
She looked at clock.
“It's six-twenty.”
“I lost track.”
“You lose track at eight years old near motorcycle lift?”
Rusty said:
“He wasn't operating anything heavy.”
Maria rounded.
“That’s not point.”
Jim stayed back.
Maria looked at him.
Recognition.
“You’re Jim Mercer.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Arthur.”
“Yes.”
She tightened grip on handbag.
“My husband came home with broken knuckles twice because of your people.”
Jim blinked.
“One was because he punched carburetor.”
“That doesn’t improve your case.”
Rusty tried not laugh.
Jim nodded.
“Fair.”
Maria looked at black FXR.
“Dutch’s.”
“Yes.”
She knew.
Arthur had spoken about it for years.
“What has this got to do with Leo?”
Rusty showed note.
Maria read.
Her anger faltered.
Then she saw photograph.