Batteries.
Coffee.
A replacement rear tire.
Nobody asked Brix questions.
They simply nodded to him.
One rider, a massive woman named June Kessler, dropped a grocery bag on the counter.
“Bacon,” she announced.
Brix looked inside.
“And cereal.”
“People need cereal.”
“Okay.”
June studied him.
“Do you like pancakes?”
Brix nodded.
“Good. I make terrible pancakes.”
For the first time, Brix laughed openly.
The sound surprised Reed.
It also made the shop feel warmer.
But peace did not last.
At ten-thirteen, the phone rang.
Reed answered.
No one spoke.
He said hello again.
Then a male voice came through.
“You got something that belongs to me.”
Reed recognized the voice from description alone.
“Mercer?”
A pause.
“Tell the kid I know where he is.”
Reed's jaw tightened.
“You want to speak to him?”
“No. I want you to understand this isn't your business.”
“You threatened a child.”
“That's between him and me.”
“He's fifteen.”
“He stole from me.”
“What?”
The caller laughed.
“You'll find out.”
Then the line went dead.
Odom arrived twenty minutes later.
Reed told him everything.
Odom's expression darkened.
“We need to know exactly what Mercer thinks Brix stole.”
Brix finally admitted there was more.
He took the canvas bag from the chair and opened it.
Inside were a small socket set, two screwdrivers, a notebook wrapped in plastic, an old photograph, and a brass key.
Reed stared at the key.
“What’s that?”
“My mother's.”
“What does it open?”
“I don't know.”
Odom picked up the notebook.
“May I?”
Brix nodded.
The pages were filled with handwriting, diagrams, part numbers, and names.
Some entries were ordinary.
Others were not.
Brix pointed to one page.
“These are people she worked for.”
Reed looked closer.
Several names were accompanied by dates.
Then Mercer’s name appeared.
Beside it were three words.
DO NOT TRUST.
Odom's eyes narrowed.
“Your mother wrote this recently?”
“I don't know.”
Reed turned a page.
There were notes about motorcycle parts.
Some had prices.
Some had serial numbers.
Others listed locations.
“What was she doing?”
Brix shook his head.
“She told me not to ask.”
The brass key caught Reed's attention again.
“Did she tell you anything about this?”
Brix nodded.
“She said, if anything happened to her, I had to take the key and notebook to a man named Halvorson.”
Reed stared.
“Halvorson?”
Brix looked frightened.
“She said he was the only mechanic in Wyoming she trusted.”
Reed's chest tightened.
“My brother.”
Brix nodded.
“She said Cormac knew the truth.”
Suddenly the room seemed smaller.
Reed picked up the old photograph.
It showed Mara standing beside a younger Cormac outside a repair shop.
Reed recognized the place.
His brother's first garage.
“What truth?” Reed whispered.
Brix looked at him.
“I don't know.”
Odom examined the photograph.
Something was written on the back.
Reed turned it over.
Keep the key. Do not let Mercer find the box.
Odom's eyes hardened.
“What box?”
Brix looked toward the ceiling.
“I've never seen a box.”
That was the moment Reed understood.
Mercer wasn't after the boy.
He was after whatever Brix's mother had hidden.
And if Cormac had been involved six years earlier, then the mystery had existed long before Brix ever reached Cody.
That afternoon, Reed and Odom searched the old shop records.
They found nothing.
Then Brix returned from sweeping the garage and quietly said,
“My mother used to say Cormac helped her once.”
“When?”
“About seven years ago.”
“Do you know with what?”
Brix shook his head.
“He told her some people shouldn't be trusted with a motorcycle because they were willing to hurt people over money.”
Reed sat back.
Cormac's death had always seemed simple.
Heart attack.
Too much strain.
Bad luck.
But now Reed remembered something he had dismissed at the time.
Cormac had become nervous during the final months of his life.
He had locked the garage twice.
He had refused to leave paperwork in his truck.
He had once told Reed, “If someone asks about Mara Deodato, you don't know anything.”
Reed had forgotten the words until now.
His skin prickled.
The mystery wasn't new.
Cormac had simply carried it away with him.
And someone had just returned to collect the pieces.
That evening, the first real threat came.
It appeared on the shop door in black marker.
SEND THE BOY OUT.
No signature.
No explanation.
Just four words.
Brix saw it first.
His face went pale.
“I knew he would come.”
Reed took a photograph.
Odom arrived less than ten minutes later.
“Don't touch the handle,” Odom said.
“I already did,” Reed replied.
Odom sighed.
“Of course you did.”
He studied the writing.
“Mercer?”
“Looks like his style,” Reed said.
“We don't know that.”
Brix stepped closer.
“I do.”
Odom turned.
“How?”
“Because he wrote it on the diner wall.”
“Before?”
“Yes.”
Odom nodded.
“Then we're treating it as a threat.”
He called the Cody Police Department.
An officer came, photographed the door, and took a brief statement.
The response was cautious.
Without a direct act of violence, their hands were limited.
Odom understood.
He had spent enough years in law enforcement to know how the system worked.
Proof first.
Protection second.
He hated both facts.
That night, the Riders formed an informal watch around the shop.
Motorcycles came and went.
People lingered.
No one complained.
Brix watched them from upstairs.
At eleven, Reed found him sitting on the floor beside the window.
“Can't sleep?”
Brix shook his head.
“Want to talk?”
“No.”
Reed nodded.
“Okay.”
He started to leave.
“Reed?”
“Yeah?”
“Why are you helping me?”
The question stopped him.
“Because you're a kid.”
“That doesn't make everybody help.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Reed looked toward Cormac's old room.
“My brother would've.”
Brix looked down.
“My mom would've helped someone too.”
“What happened to her?”
“She trusted the wrong person.”
Reed sat beside him.
“That doesn't mean she was wrong for trusting.”
Brix frowned.
“Feels like it.”
“No.”
Reed shook his head.
“There's a difference between being kind and being careless. Your mother might have made a mistake. That doesn't make kindness the mistake.”
Brix was quiet.
After a moment, he asked,
“Did you and Cormac fight?”
“All the time.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Brix smiled.
“Sounds nice.”
Reed laughed.
“It wasn't.”
But his eyes softened.
“Until it was.”
The next morning, Brix noticed the brass key had disappeared.
He searched his bag.
Nothing.
He searched the room.
Nothing.
Panic arrived immediately.
“My key!”
Reed came running.