Chapter 13 Alone Together #2
Only an expired certification and an old mailing address on the edge of town.
Curious.
He copied the address into his notebook.
The following afternoon happened to be his first full day off in nearly two weeks.
Instead of sleeping late, Julian climbed into his SUV shortly after breakfast and followed the address through winding county roads until he reached a modest white farmhouse surrounded by rusting tractors and weathered equipment.
A faded mailbox displayed one name.
DIXON.
Julian parked respectfully beside the gravel driveway.
He wasn't entirely sure what he planned to say.
Before he reached the porch, an elderly man stepped out of an open workshop carrying a wrench almost as old as he was.
The man's silver beard reached nearly to his chest.
His hands bore the unmistakable marks of decades spent repairing machinery.
"You lost?"
the old man asked.
Julian smiled politely.
"I hope not."
"You're Harold Dixon?"
"Depends who's asking."
"My name's Julian Vance."
"I'm a paramedic with Station Six."
Recognition flickered briefly across Harold's face.
"The ambulance station."
"That's right."
"What do you need from an old mechanic?"
Julian chose honesty.
"I've been looking into some maintenance issues involving the emergency fleet."
Harold's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
"I don't do that work anymore."
"I know."
"You worked with Garth Miller."
"A long time ago."
Julian nodded.
"I was hoping you might answer a few questions."
Harold studied him silently.
"You with the town?"
"No."
"The sheriff?"
"No."
"Lawyer?"
Julian smiled.
"No."
"Then why are you asking?"
Julian hesitated.
Because I love the man you're trying to frame.
Because someone is trying to destroy his life.
Because people could die if this continues.
Instead, he answered simply.
"Because something isn't right."
The old mechanic looked toward the open workshop.
For several long seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he sighed.
"I've got nothing to say."
Julian felt disappointment settle into his chest.
"I understand."
He turned toward his SUV.
Before reaching the driver's door, Harold spoke again.
"You know..."
Julian stopped.
"...sometimes the wrong questions scare people."
He looked back.
"The right questions?"
Harold shrugged.
"They remind people they've still got a conscience."
Julian waited quietly.
The older man walked over slowly, lowering his voice despite the empty property.
"You said maintenance issues."
"Yes."
"You're asking the wrong man."
Julian frowned.
"I don't understand."
"I stopped working for Garth almost four years ago."
Harold answered.
"He started changing."
"How?"
The old mechanic looked toward the distant highway.
"He stopped caring where parts came from."
"He cared about price."
"Nothing else."
Julian listened carefully.
"I argued with him."
"More than once."
"He didn't appreciate that."
"So you left."
"I was told to leave."
Harold corrected gently.
"Best thing that ever happened to me."
Julian felt hope stirring again.
"Did you ever see counterfeit parts?"
Harold remained silent.
Too silent.
Finally he spoke.
"I've seen things I wish I hadn't."
Julian's heartbeat quickened.
"Can you tell me what?"
Harold shook his head.
"Not here."
"Why?"
The old mechanic looked directly into Julian's eyes.
"Because walls have ears."
Julian followed his gaze.
Across the road, a dark pickup rolled slowly past the farmhouse before continuing toward town.
Perhaps it was nothing.
Perhaps not.
Harold waited until the vehicle disappeared before speaking again.
"You care about Cooper Auto?"
Julian answered honestly.
"Yes."
Harold nodded once.
"I figured."
"How?"
"The way you asked questions."
He smiled faintly.
"You weren't trying to win a lawsuit."
"You were trying to protect someone."
Julian didn't deny it.
Harold folded his arms.
"If I tell you what I know..."
"...things might get dangerous."
"They already are."
The older mechanic studied him for another long moment.
Finally, he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a small business card.
The back contained nothing but an address and a handwritten time.
Thursday.
7:30 P.M.
Old Riverside Machine Yard.
Harold handed it over carefully.
"Come alone."
Julian looked up.
"Will you answer my questions?"
Harold's expression grew unusually serious.
"I'll answer the ones you're finally asking."
He turned toward the workshop before stopping one last time.
"And son..."
Julian waited.
"If Garth Miller realizes you're looking in the right places..."
"...don't assume he's the only one watching."
Without another word, Harold disappeared inside the workshop, leaving Julian standing alone in the afternoon sunshine with the small card still resting in his hand.
He looked down at the handwritten address.
It wasn't proof.
It wasn't evidence.
But for the first time since the sabotage began, someone had hinted that the truth existed beyond missing paperwork and damaged ambulances.
Someone who had once stood beside Garth Miller had finally agreed to talk.
As Julian climbed back into his SUV, he slipped the card carefully into his wallet.
The investigation had reached another turning point.
And whatever Harold Dixon intended to reveal at the old machine yard, Julian had a feeling it would change everything they thought they knew about the man determined to destroy Cooper Auto Repair.
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