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“What about the break-ins?” Dexter asked.
The kids’ jaws tightened, and I knew they wouldn’t tell us any more. It was possible they didn’t know.
I sighed. “Let us know if you find out anything.”
“What do you care about some spray paint?” Eric asked when we turned to leave.
“When you damage property and hurt the businesses, you scare people, and it affects tourism. The mayor’s very concerned.” I wanted them to understand the effect of property damage because, in my experience, they didn’t. And I wanted them to understand this issue wasn’t going to get shoved under a rug. The mayor wanted to get to the bottom of it.
Eric’s face screwed up in disgust, but he didn’t say anything further.
We’d only gotten a few feet when one of the boys called out to us, “Maybe it’s that new kid.”
Turning to face them, three of them had hung back, but the smaller one, Joey, had followed us.
Dexter paused, his hands on his belt. “What new kid?”
Joey tilted his head to the side as if he was trying to remember. “I think he lives with one of the guys from the garage.”
Dexter’s brow furrowed. “The new one? Harbor Garage?”
Joey nodded. “That’s it.”
“Why do you think it’s him?” I asked.
“At school, he was bragging about having spray paint in his bag.”
“You tell the teacher?” I asked on the off chance he’d said anything.
Joey sneered. “I don’t rat anyone out.”
I didn’t point out that he was talking to cops. “Thanks for telling us.”
We pivoted, stopping by our squad cars to discuss the new information.
“You can’t buy paint without an adult,” I said, working it through.
Dexter lowered his voice, “If your dad owned a garage, there might be spray paint around.”
“If they do bodywork,” I agreed, excited we might finally have a lead.
“Let’s find out,” Dexter said, opening his door.
I rounded the hood of my car, climbing in.
Even if it was a low-level crime, my blood pumped faster in anticipation of a break in the case. I didn’t like Remi being scared.
I shook off the anxiety of being the one who protected her, the one who was responsible for her safety. We weren’t there yet, and she hadn’t asked for anything. In fact, she’d called on Archangel Michael to protect me.
Pulling into the mechanic’s shop, we parked side by side in the small lot. The flat-roof building housed three bays, and the sign above them read Harbor Garage & Service Repair Center. It was an old building that had clearly been renovated with fresh paint and equipment.
We moved toward one of the open bays, waiting for the man working near the car to see us and come over. His overalls said his name was Jake.
He wiped his hands on a cloth before holding it out to me. “Jake Stockton.”
Shaking his hand, I said, “Officer Castle. This is Officer Ashton.”
“How can I help? I assume you’re not here for repairs.” He glanced over at our squad cars gleaming in the sun.
