Page 86 of Show Me

Across the street, something moves near the trees. A dog. The neighbor’s. It noses along the ground, slow, uneven. When it shifts its weight, it limps. Subtle. But there.

I pause with my hand on the truck door, watching it a second longer than I mean to. It keeps moving. Like nothing’s wrong. Maybe I imagined it.

After I get in, the engine turns over, steady, grounding. I pull onto the road, letting the rhythm of driving take over. A few houses down, I notice blue lights flash behind me, so I pull over.

Jake is out of the cruiser before I’ve fully stopped, one hand resting on the door as he leans down. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

“Everything good?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes move over the truck, quick, assessing, then back to me. “Heard you got cameras up.”

“Last night.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. It’s not everywhere that you get stopped by the police and don't have to worry about what you did wrong unless you did something wrong.

“Fast.”

“She needed them.”

He nods once. “Emily said you were keeping the guys at the bar in line.”

“I wasn’t keeping anyone in line.”

A small grin tugs at his mouth. “Didn’t look like that from where I was.” I don’t respond. There’s nothing more to say. He taps the roof of the truck once. “Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

He heads back to his cruiser, lights cutting off as he pulls away. I sit there before easing back onto the road.

The shop comes into view, the lot already filling with trucks, the day's noise starting to build.

Inside, Dad’s at his desk, ledger open, coffee halfway gone. “Morning.”

“Morning.” I head straight for the back and stop. The shelf isn’t empty. The missing wrench sits exactly where it should be. Centered. Clean. Like it never left.

I stand there a second, staring at it, then reach out and pick it up. It feels the same. Familiar in my hand. I open and close it. Still got the same catch at the quarter point.

“Found the wrench.” I grab the WD-40 and spray on the hinge.

“Good.” Dad’s voice is gruff as usual.

“Yeah,” I say. “Must’ve missed it.”

He grunts, already back in the ledger.

I set it down, a little slower this time. Makes sense. Guys move things. Tools get set somewhere else. Happens all the time. I’m not sure what I thought was happening anyway. The security at the shop and lot is far superior to Ruby’s before I added enhancements.

It’s more high-tech than what I’ve installed at her place. I grab what I came for and return to my truck. Something catches the light. Metal. Sitting flat in the middle of the truck bed. My tape measure.

I don’t move right away. Just look at it. Shifted against the passenger side of the bed. No dirt on it. No reason for it to be there. I never leave it out. Never loose.

Like the wrench, the weight of the tape measure is familiar against my palm—the metal cold from the morning frost.

What’s the likelihood that one of the guys moved both items and randomly put them back at the same time? I roll my eyes. With Travis, anything is possible.

I climb into the truck and turn right at the stop sign. I’ve got a job site to finish up and a bone to pick with Travis.