Six
Helena’s posture was rigid, her fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve. She hadn’t said much since they’d left Denton’s office, her mind still caught on his words. The questions were gnawing at her, pulling her thoughts into a tangled mess of possibilities that didn’t add up.
Her eyes darted to Trevor, who was focused on the road, his jaw set with intensity. He was waiting for her to speak, but all she could do was think.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Trevor finally asked, his voice breaking the silence as he shot her a glance.
Helena blinked, a momentary fog lifting from her mind. “Just thinking about what Denton said. If he didn’t do it, then who did? And if he saw a truck that night…” Her voice trailed off, her frustration growing as she tried to force the pieces into place. “Whose truck was it? Why would it be there?”
“Good questions,” Trevor said, his tone thoughtful as he tapped his thumb on the steering wheel.
“The detectives on the case at the time hit a dead end and then the case went cold. We can pull who was living around your neighborhood at the time and which ones had trucks. We can question them. I’m wondering if Robbie’s prints on the victim’s car is because he worked on it or if he’s a suspect. ”
“You know how he is,” Helena muttered, her words laced with resentment.
“Arrogant. Hates that I have a more successful garage. He’s always been like that and if he did do it, he’s not going to confess.
Certainly not if he’s the one trying to kill me.
I know he’s been in trouble before with some assault and battery charges, but I never took him for a killer.
But if I’m being honest, killing me does more for him than shutting me up and keep me from finding him.
It gives him more business, but that would mean the tie clip wasn’t a clue and just something in Kendra Rowe’s back seat. ”
“Not to mention all the college girls were killed in car fires. He works on cars. If the arsonist is the same person after you, as we’ve suspected, he has more motive than anyone to come after you.”
Helena shivered at the thought. They assumed the arsonist was her likely attacker, too, but until they had more pieces to the puzzle, they couldn’t say for sure. Yet Trevor was right. Robbie had more motive than anyone.
“We’ll know more when the results come back from the lab.
” Trevor gave her a half smile. “It might mean nothing, regardless. But it’s our only lead and we have to run it down.
As far as Robbie, if he denies any involvement in the fires, he’ll at least know we’re looking at him.
Pressure can send guilty people into making desperate mistakes.
Mistakes mean we can catch them. Like the tie clip.
If it belongs to the killer, he didn’t mean to leave it behind and, once he realizes it, he might make a mistake. ”
All depended on who the killer was.
Helena wasn’t as hopeful as Trevor. She kept her silence as they drove, the road winding deeper into the shadow of the Rockies.
The trees seemed to close in on them, the looming presence of the mountains making everything feel claustrophobic.
They pulled into McMahon Garage, the familiar scent of oil and metal filling the air.
The lot was a mess of rusted engine blocks and old tires, nothing like her own garage.
Before they even stepped out of the truck, Helena could hear Robbie’s curses echoing from inside.
He emerged from the bay doors, rag in hand, his eyes lighting up when he saw them.
Still tall and built. Hair pulled back in a man bun.
Thick hair and eyes the color of the oil on his hands.
His smirk was exactly as she remembered—cocky, arrogant, self-assured.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the competition,” he said, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Helena didn’t waste time. “You work on Kendra Rowe’s car recently?”
Robbie snorted, crossing his arms. “Kendra Rowe. Not ringing a bell. Why? She make some claim I did something to her or did shoddy work? Because it’s not true.”
Trevor stepped up. “Could you look through your work invoices? It might have been under William Rowe—her father.”
“I’d like to know what this is about first.”
Trevor’s jaw pulsed. “Oh, no problem. I’ll just be back in an hour with a warrant. We’ll have to comb through everything and probably set you back on your work. But I don’t mind if you don’t.”
Robbie eyed him with a menacing gaze. “Fine. I’ll look.” He stomped up metal stairs to an office with large glass windows overlooking the shop. They followed and stood in the doorway while he clacked on a greasy keyboard. “Can I ask why now?”
“We found your fingerprint under her car,” Trevor said.
Robbie’s smirk faltered for a split second and then it returned, though it seemed forced. “Yeah, I worked on it. Her old man brought it in a few weeks back. Needed a brake job. That’s what I do.”
Helena’s fingers twitched, a prickle of unease crawling up her spine.
“Did you ever meet her?” Trevor asked.
Robbie jutted his chin. “Nope. Never saw the girl.”
“Anything else you want to tell us?”
A glint formed in Robbie’s eye and turned into something more hostile as he eyed Lark. “Yeah. Tell your dog to stay out of my establishment. I don’t need it messing up my shop.”
Lark sniffed around; whiffing brake fluid, if Helena had to guess.
“Kendra Rowe was found dead, burned alive in her vehicle during the wee hours of the morning. Just hours ago.”
Robbie’s hands flew up. “Hey now, I’m not the one killing college girls. I did work on her vehicle. End of story.”
“And you helped Denton Wiley with his brake fluid, too?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah, on my lunch break. So what? We’re friends.”
“Nothing,” Trevor said. “Can you tell me if you did any work for any of the other victims?” He rattled off their names and Robbie, ashen, searched his database.
“Um…yeah, actually. Neve Allan. Brake pads installed nine months ago.”
That was their first victim. She was nineteen. Worked at Colorado Creek Coffee Café and attended Lavender University.
“And Delilah Overton. Back in March. Changed her tires. But I never personally interacted with those women. I only did the work on their cars. Doesn’t mean I killed them.”
Didn’t mean he hadn’t, either. Delilah had last been seen at a St. Paddy’s Day party at O’Malley’s Pub across town.
“We need the name of who took their payments and gave them back their vehicles,” Trevor said.
“Fine. Sure.” He clacked a few more keys and scribbled a name on a yellow Post-it. “Ovan Fielding, one of the managers. For both.”
“He here today?” Trevor asked.
“No. He’s off this week. Went on a hiking trip. But I can give you his number.” He wrote that down, too, and his address, and handed them the sticky note.
“Thanks. And don’t call him with a heads-up. You do, and he’s guilty, you’re aiding and abetting. With a record already…” Trevor let the words hang.
Helena didn’t respond, turning and heading back to the truck. Trevor followed, Lark was next to him.
Once they were inside the truck, she looked at Trevor as he started the engine, pulling away from the cluttered lot.
“What do you think?” Helena asked. “Is that coincidence? Did we find a connection or hunting ground for our serial killer? Do you think Robbie is lying?”
Trevor sighed. “I think it could all be true. Robbie could be lying and used his garage as a hunting ground, and the fact he’s around brake fluid would be normal.
Or someone on his payroll is our killer.
Or it could be an odd coincidence, but I don’t find that likely.
He seemed genuinely shocked to find three of the five victims had been in the shop prior to being murdered. But killers can be good liars.”
“We should fact-check him. See if he knew those girls or could be connected in any other way. And call Ovan Fielding.”
“I’d rather wait until he’s back in town. Bring him in and look him in the eye. Study his body language. If Robbie doesn’t call him, he won’t suspect anything.”
“If Robbie is throwing him under the bus as some kind of patsy—do people still use that term?—then he will be innocent. Robbie has a temper.”
Everything was piling on Helena, pushing her down, and keeping her exhausted on so many levels. She yawned.
“Coffee?” Trevor’s voice broke the silence, a welcome attempt at normalcy.
Helena gave a terse nod. “Yeah. Probably a good idea. I need the pick-me-up. It’s probably going to be another long night.”
They swung through the drive-through, the smell of fresh espresso mingling with the scent of oil that clung to their clothes.
Trevor handed her a coffee after they’d placed their order, and their fingers brushed for a brief moment.
She gave him a curt nod of thanks, but her mind was still a million miles away.
As they merged back onto the winding mountain road, the shadows of the trees stretched like reaching fingers. Helena’s thoughts were consumed by the questions that still lingered. Robbie’s behavior, the brake fluid, the fingerprint. Was he involved? What else was he hiding?
Then, without warning, a vehicle swerved into view—a dark pickup, headlights glaring in the twilight. It didn’t hesitate. It came barreling toward them like a predator on the hunt.
Before Helena could react, Trevor’s voice snapped through the air. “Hold on!”
The world around them blurred. Trevor yanked the wheel, the Expedition’s tires screaming in protest as the guardrail loomed up too fast. The truck skidded, fishtailing toward the edge, and Helena’s heart leapt into her throat.