“There's a man asking questions at the next fuel station.”
“Who?”
“Didn't give a name.”
“What does he look like?”
The stranger described Mercer.
Odom swore quietly.
“He found us.”
The plan changed immediately.
The entire club would remain together.
Nobody would stop alone.
No rider would go ahead without police escort.
The memorial route would be shortened.
But Mercer was not finished.
At mile ninety-two, one of the support vans had a tire blowout.
The group stopped.
Reed climbed out.
The black pickup appeared again.
This time it stopped.
Mercer stepped out.
He was in his late forties, broad across the shoulders, wearing a brown work jacket.
He looked calm.
Too calm.
His eyes went immediately to Brix.
“You've caused me a lot of trouble,” he said.
Reed stepped in front of the boy.
“Walk away.”
Mercer smiled.
“I don't want you.”
“You're not getting him.”
“I want what belongs to me.”
“It doesn't belong to you.”
Mercer's smile disappeared.
“Mara knew the truth.”
Brix stepped forward.
“What truth?”
Mercer looked directly at him.
“Your mother understood the game. She just couldn't stop it.”
Reed's fist tightened.
Odom moved beside him.
“You're done.”
Mercer laughed.
“You think a bunch of bikers scares me?”
“No.”
Odom looked toward the police cars approaching in the distance.
“But handcuffs might.”
Mercer's eyes flicked toward the road.
He ran.
He reached the pickup.
The engine screamed.
The truck tore away.
Police followed.
Brix remained frozen.
Reed put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s over.”
Brix shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“He looked scared.”
Reed frowned.
“Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Brix stared at the road.
“Because you said the police were coming.”
Odom's face changed.
“Meaning?”
“He knows what happens next.”
The evidence was enough to bury him.
Which meant Mercer had only one choice.
Get the final piece.
The hidden box.
And Brix knew exactly where Mercer would look.
Back at the shop.
They returned to Cody before sunset.
The Riders surrounded Halverson Custom Cycles.
Police vehicles were parked outside.
Everything seemed secure.
But Brix felt something was wrong.
He walked into the shop and stopped.
The Shovelhead was gone.
For three seconds nobody spoke.
Then Reed shouted.
“Where's the bike?”
Odom turned toward the rear doors.
Unlocked.
A chain lay cut on the floor.
“They took it.”
Brix went pale.
“No.”
Reed looked at him.
“They took Cormac's bike.”
Brix shook his head.
“They didn't take it for the motorcycle.”
The room went silent.
“They want the evidence inside.”
Odom swore.
“We need to find where they took it.”
Then Brix pointed toward the empty lift.
“They won't go far.”
“Why?”
“Because they need the key.”
“What key?”
“The brass key.”
Reed looked at him.
Brix removed it from his pocket.
“They think it opens the box.”
Odom understood.
“Then we can use that.”
“You mean bait them?”
“Yes.”
Reed's expression hardened.
“No.”
Odom looked at him.
“You're not putting Brix in danger.”
“I mean I don't want to lose another bike.”
Reed picked up his jacket.
“That's Cormac's.”
Odom sighed.
They traced the motorcycle through a GPS tracker Reed had installed for insurance purposes.
The signal came from an abandoned repair yard six miles outside town.
Police units moved in.
But before approaching, Odom gave Reed one instruction.
“Stay behind me.”
Reed nodded.
Brix sat in the truck.
He was supposed to remain there.
But he had already figured out something the adults hadn't.
The hidden box might not be at the yard.
It might be somewhere else.
“Reed.”
“What?”
“My mother said engines remember.”
Reed stared.
“What if the box isn't inside the bike?”
“What do you mean?”
“The bike is supposed to make us look.”
Brix pointed toward the yard.
“Someone wants us to think it's there.”
He was right.
The repair yard was empty.
Except for the Shovelhead.
The motorcycle stood in the center of the building.
No Mercer.
No box.
No people.
Just the bike.
Reed approached.
Nothing appeared damaged.
Odom checked the engine.
The cavity where the evidence had once been hidden was empty.
The box had never been there.
Then the lights went out.
The doors slammed shut.
A generator started somewhere outside.
Reed heard metal scraping.
Someone had locked them inside.
“Everybody stay calm.”
A voice came through a speaker.
Mercer.
“You should have left this alone.”
Odom moved toward the door.
Locked.
Reed shouted.
“Mercer!”
“You've got something I need.”
“You don't.”
“I need the key.”
Brix looked at the brass key in his hand.
Then toward the motorcycle.
Mercer continued.
“Put it on the floor.”
Brix whispered,
“He's listening.”
Reed nodded.
The voice returned.
“Five minutes.”
Odom's eyes moved around the room.
“There has to be another exit.”
Brix studied the building.
He noticed the old ventilation shaft.
Then the power cables.
Then the oil drums.
“Reed?”
“What?”
“The generator.”
“Yeah?”
“It's outside.”
“So?”
“If we shut it off…”
Odom understood.
“No lights means no cameras.”
“And no locked magnetic door.”
They moved quickly.
Brix crawled through the ventilation opening.
Reed objected.
“You're too small.”
“That helps.”
Before anyone could stop him, Brix disappeared into the duct.
He reached the generator.
Turned the fuel valve.
Killed the engine.
The lights died.
Odom rammed the side exit.
It opened.
They escaped.
Police moved in.
Mercer had vanished.
But he had left something behind.
A single message painted on the wall.
THE BOY KNOWS WHERE IT IS.
Brix stared at it.
“He thinks I know.”
“Do you?”
Brix swallowed.
“I think I know where my mother hid the box.”
Reed looked at him.
“Where?”
“Under Wanda's Diner.”
The manhunt changed direction.
Wanda's Diner had been closed for three months.
The owner had gone to live with her daughter in Billings, leaving the building empty except for the occasional stray cat and the rusted signs outside.
Behind the diner was the place Brix had slept for months.
A patch of concrete beside a dumpster.