Page 203 of Bound By Fire
“I’m curious about one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“This is a long shot.” I give her a small smile. “Why did you buy him a size nine when he’s an eight?”
Her hand flies up over her mouth.
“Oh, my gosh.” Her eyes go wide. “Please don’t tell me they look too big. I swore that no one would be able to tell.”
“Most people wouldn’t have. I’m just observant. It’s part of the job.”
“I’m so embarrassed.” She laughs into her palm. “I bought him the wrong size. After almost fifteen years of marriage and two kids, you’d think I’d have it down by now, but no. And Icouldn’t even return them. We only fly to the Mainland once a year, if that. So he just wears them and tells me they’re perfect.” She drops her hand. “Don’t tell him you noticed, please.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I pause. “I won’t say a word.”
“Good.” She lets out a relieved-sounding breath. Then she glances at her watch, and the easy expression slips. “Oh shoot. Ridge, I’m so sorry. Are we close to done? I have to get my car to the panel shop before they close today, and traffic at this time of day is a nightmare.”
“Of course.” I straighten on the stool. “What happened to it?”
“I dinged it the other day. I parked it a little crooked the night before. Which is unlike me. I’m a bit of a stickler about parking it perfectly straight. My OCD kicking in. I can’t actually remember doing it.” She gives a small laugh. “I overslept. I was so groggy that I switched the alarm off without realizing. My kids were almost late for school on Thursday. My eldest almost missed his field trip. Anyway, I was rushing, so I reversed too fast and scraped the side along the garage frame on my way out. It’s a big, ugly mark down the back panel.”
Last Thursday.
Right.
“That’s a pain. Mind if I take a quick look?”
“You want to look at the scrape?” She looks confused but stands. “Sure. Why not. The garage is through here.”
I follow her down a short corridor and through a door into a double garage. The black Mercedes is parked nose-out. As we walk around to the rear, I can see the damage. A scrape runs down behind the rear passenger side, the paint peeled back in a few places.
“Yes. That’s nasty.” I crouch to look at it. “At least it’s only one panel. It could have been worse.”
“I know.”
I memorize the registration plate while I’m down there. Then I straighten.
“I’ll get out of your way. You go and get it sorted.”
“I really hope they can turn it around quickly. I’m so lost without a car.”
“I know what you mean.”
We walk back through the house. At the front door, she turns to me with another quick smile.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“You were great. I appreciate the time.”
“I hope you catch your guy.”
I nod, because there’s a chance she may want to take those words back before too long.
“Thanks, Avani.”
“Anytime.”
She waves and then closes the door.
I walk down the path and get into my SUV, pulling away.
My pulse hammers against the side of my neck.
I have been hunting a dark blue Lexus on the CCTV footage. I won’t find one because Patel didn’t take his own car. He took his wife’s Mercedes.
I need to rewatch the camera footage…again.
I think I might be onto something.
