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“Wild what?”

“Dogs,” she says. “They’re feral, and they’ve already attacked someone.”

The man sputters a laugh. “Who told you that? Pretty-boy bartender here? Yeah, if he says the drinks are free, he’s bullshitting you. He’s making up stories about wild dogs so you keep throwing back the booze and then he’ll present you with a bill in the morning.”

“How would that work?” the bartender asks. “Everyone here can confirm I said drinks were on the house.”

“You’ll pretend you meant the first drink. The rest were fifty bucks each.”

“Seems an elaborate scheme to earn a few extra hundred bucks. But believe what you like. Off you go now. The feral-dog-free road awaits.”

“Stop that,” Noemi says. “This isn’t funny.” She turns to the new guy. “The elderly man who hit the pileup right before you was injured and dragged into the forest by these dogs.”

“Dragged…” The guy looks around, gaze rising to the rafters. “Okay, where’s the hidden camera?”

“Buddy, that’s what I thought, too,” Caleb says. “But there’s no hidden camera. Just a pack of wild dogs that killed an old man.”

“Fine. Five hundred bucks for you to ride to town. A hundred up front. The rest when I can get to a cash machine. Take that bike and—”

“No one’s going anywhere!” Noemi’s voice rises. “Stop this.”

The man turns and sizes up Henry and me. “You two look like you could use the money.”

“They’ve been in a car accident,” Noemi says. “We all have. We’re tired and we’re bruised and we’re dirty. From being in a car accident during a storm.”

“Let him go.” It’s the woman at the bar.

The man strides over to her. “You piping up over here? Maybe you’d like to earn five hundred bucks.”

She turns, very slowly, and when she lifts her gaze to his, I swear he inches back.

“You want to leave?” she says. “Go. Not them. You.”

“Fine.” The man stalks to the bar. “Give me your bike, kid.”

“So you can dump it in a ditch once you reach town?” The bartender snorts. “Not likely.”

The man slaps the contents of his wallet on the bar and adds a credit card. “Happy?”

The bartender eyes him, and then moves the cash and card to the back counter before he heads into the storage room and wheels out a bike.

“You can’t let him go,” Noemi says.

“We can’t stop him, Mi,” Caleb murmurs.

Henry moves forward, and the guy’s hands fly up, as if Henry charged. Even standing behind Henry, I swear I feel his eyes roll.

“He’s right,” Henry says. “We can’t stop you. However, let me be clear that there is something in that forest. It dragged an old man from his vehicle, and when you arrived, this young lady was arguing for us to go after him while we were trying to tell her it’s too dangerous. You are free to go, but be aware that I’m the one who decided it was too dangerous, and there’s not a helluva lot that scares me.”

“And that’s supposed to change my mind because … why? I don’t know you. You probably just decided you can’t be bothered going after this old guy, if there is an old guy, which—” He stops and waves his hands in front of him. “Why am I bothering? Point is that I have a bike, and apparently I am riding to the next town.”

He takes the bicycle from the bartender and wheels it to the front door.

As the man leaves, the bartender calls, “If you see any dogs, pedal faster!”

The door slams shut.

“That wasn’t funny,” Noemi says to the bartender.