Sweet as Honey (Aster Valley 2)

“It all happened so fast. What if I was wrong? What if the sheriff didn’t believe me? What if he did believe me and he didn’t do anything about it? What if he didn’t hold his brother accountable and Pim and Bill and Mikey hated me for it?”

Truman swallowed around his tears. “It’s just another example of how I’ve failed everyone. Part of me wants to leave, Sam. And make a fresh start somewhere else.”

I stayed quiet so he could, hopefully, get to the next stage of processing this. He finally sighed. “But then how would I feel about myself? It’s already been so freaking long of feeling like the world’s biggest fool. And I can’t… I can’t keep all of this inside anymore. It’s killing me.” Truman let out a humorless laugh. “Heck, it’s literally killing me. First the hit-and-run in December, then the attempted beating the day I met you, then the fire at the shop, and now—”

“He could have killed us. Especially if he was drunk. And if he’s driving drunk, he could kill anyone.”

Truman sighed and met my eyes. “We need to call the state police.”

I nodded. “Or maybe the state bureau of investigation like Mindy suggested about the pension fund. But after what just happened, we can’t afford to wait.”

Truman stood up and brushed himself off before noticing what had happened to the bike. Suddenly, he started laughing, and he laughed so hard he nearly fell down again.

“I hope you had insurance,” he said through his laughter. “Two bikes in one week, Sam. I don’t know…”

I pulled out my phone to call Mikey for a ride. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Truman laugh through his tears. He was going to be okay.

I’d make sure of it.

I left Truman at Rockley Lodge with Mikey and Tiller. Their friend Gentry and his uncle Doran were expected to stop by for a visit to help Truman get in touch with someone in state law enforcement. Since Doran supposedly managed Gentry’s music career, I figured he probably had friends in high places and could help Truman find the right person to talk to.

I knew that Truman wasn’t ready to tell Mikey and Tiller about their hit-and-run in December until after he’d spoken to the state police, but we’d told them about what had happened to us on the mountainside with the rental bike and that Truman had recognized Gene’s truck.

As I left, Mikey was fussing over Truman’s dusty clothes and insisting on changing him into some comfortable clothes from Mikey’s own stash. I fully expected to return to a Truman decked out in navy-and-orange Rigger gear.

Before heading to the Honeyed Lemon to meet the fire investigators, I stopped at the Chop Shop to check on my own bike and inform them about their rental. Jim Browning was behind the counter, squinting at an old calculator covered in years of shop grime. As soon as the bell over the door chimed, he looked up.

“Well, if it isn’t our new troublemaker,” he said with a friendly grin. “You’re good for business.”

I let out an unexpected laugh. “Sorry about that. How did you hear about it so fast?”

“Newt Coney came by to pick up some parts and told me he saw the Versys hung up on a guardrail halfway up the mountain. You didn’t seem like a green rider when I first saw you, but looks can be deceiving, I guess.” He winked at me to let me know he was only kidding. “But I’m glad you’re here. Got your bike ready.”

I was shocked at the news. “You… sure?” I couldn’t believe how fast he’d been able to fit me in. My mechanic in Houston was booked out for weeks at a time.

“Sure as can be. Come take a look.” He led me to the first bay where my bike stood as good as new. I stepped closer to look at the fork. “Brand-new. I had to go into Denver for a family thing, and I picked up the part while I was there. I know you were in a hurry this time, but if you decide to get fancy one day, I’d love a chance to upgrade her suspension.”

He looked at my bike with hearts in his eyes, and I knew I’d be in good hands once I moved here. I reached out a hand to shake. “Thanks, Jim. I really appreciate it.”

We went over some insurance claim information on the rental, and I settled up with him for my own repairs so he wouldn’t have to wait on payments from both insurance companies. Then I rolled the bike out to the parking lot and left it for pickup later, pocketing my keys since I wasn’t quite “Aster Valley” enough to trust leaving my keys with the bike in the middle of town.