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“Sorry,” Sean said, after a pause. “I’m Detective Callahan.” Sean’s police persona kicked in. “This is my partner, Detective Castillo.”
Castillo nodded and drew her little notepad from the breast pocket of her suit jacket. She had on her All Business Face, which was different from her Creature Face and her Mom Face. It was kind of a mix of the two, all hard chin and cautious eyes, with a promise of not getting pissed if everyone played nice.
“Thanks for coming.” Delaney glanced at Castillo but kept her eyes trained on Sean. It was clear she wanted to know what the game was. Were they supposed to know each other or not? She didn’t care what the rules were, no matter how hinky. She just wanted to get down to business. Her emotions were raw, just under the surface of her smooth skin and tired eyes, the dark circles beneath them telling Sean she hadn’t slept much. He also noted caked mud on her motorcycle boots and a set of muddy paw prints that trailed from the door behind the counter and over to the bay. There didn’t seem to be a dog anywhere, though. Sean wondered if he was upstairs, in the apartment.
“So your motorcycle was stolen.” Castillo jumped right in. “Why don’t you show us where it was?”
“Sure.” Delaney glanced once more at Sean before she turned and headed for the door behind the counter. She pushed it open and secured the doorstop with a drag of her boot. Behind it was a large space that could work as a second workspace as well as storage. “It was right there.” She pointed to a spot behind a row of shelves, not far from a bay door that matched the one out front.
Sean walked over to the spot and stopped near a worn dog bed that was muddy and wet. Paw prints led from the door to the bed. Next to the paw prints were muddy boot prints that matched the size of Delaney’s feet. Small. Maybe a size six, women’s. There were no tire tracks, suggesting the motorcycle had not been out in the rain.
“You noticed the bike missing last night?”
“Yeah.” Delaney rubbed her hands over her face, leaving behind a couple streaks of motor oil. “I went out in the storm to look for my dog. Well...” she paused, her eyes closing and a rueful grin shadowing her lips “...he’s not really my dog. There’s a pit bull that used to live here, and he keeps showing up at random times. He’s supposed to be at this dog rescue. But he keeps digging out and coming back here. I text the lady who runs the place, she comes to get him. But last night she texted me instead. Said he was missing and wanted to know if he was here. He wasn’t, so I went out to find him.” Delaney took a breath. “I was worried. The dog was lost in a thunderstorm. He uses the woods,” she explained, pointing over her shoulder, “to get between my place and Sunny’s.”
“Sunny’s.” The caffeine from this morning’s coffee suddenly kicked up a notch in Sean’s veins. So Sunny and Delaney knew each other. He briefly wondered if they’d talked about him. Then he reminded himself not to be a typical male. They probably had much better things to talk about. “Write that down,” he told Castillo, to distract both women from noticing his sudden awkwardness.
Castillo shot him a glare. “Aye, aye, Captain.” She made a long, slow mark on her notepad with her pencil, some kind of bull’s eye, just to be a smart-ass.
“I went out in the woods to find the dog,” Delaney continued. “The bike was here when I left. It was about half past midnight. I found Wyatt, brought him back here. By the time we made it to the storeroom, the bike was gone. That was at 1:24 a.m.”
“Exactly 1:24?” Castillo actually wrote that on her pad.
“I looked at my watch.”
“Twelve thirty to 1:24. That’s a very narrow window,” Castillo said.
Sean approached the bay and saw that it locked on the floor and opened with a chain. He played with the lock, saw that it worked. Sean grabbed the chain and raised the door, which was old and rusty and made a loud grinding noise. When he looked back at Delaney he saw that she watched closely, her eyes extra bright.
“It was open,” she admitted. “I, um...left it open a ways.” Her voice dropped at the end of her sentence. “I thought that the dog might come to the shop. That we might miss each other. I didn’t want him out here in the rain so I left the door raised while I went to look for him.” She sounded guilty but also defensive. “I know it was stupid, but I’m not sure I’d do anything different.”
Silence passed. Everyone in the room knew what nobody said. With a door wide-open, under the cover of night, stealing a motorcycle was easy. Drive it away or just wheel it right out, into the bed of a truck and take off. There wasn’t a lot to it. And, as with most stolen motorcycles, there wasn’t much hope, either.
“Did you leave the key in it, too?” Castillo raised an eyebrow.
“The bike was in my storeroom. I thought it was safe.”
“What about security cameras?” Sean looked around the door and near the eaves for the usual location.
“I have them out front.” Delaney sounded defeated. “I haven’t put one back here yet. I planned to, but I just opened and I didn’t see an immediate need.”
“Okay.” Castillo huffed a little sigh. “Ma’am, my partner here is going to check out the shop and surrounding area. Why don’t you and I go sit down and get all the details, okay?”
“Actually...” Sean took the chain and lowered the door, shutting out the sunlight. “Why don’t you do the sleuthing today. I’ll get the details from Miss Monroe.”
Castillo’s eyes narrowed. Sean hated taking down the details. Sean was always the guy inspecting the area, picking up on the little crumbs and following the tracks, with almost no input from anyone. He let the facts drive the case, and enjoyed putting the pieces of the puzzle together from environmental clues and his own instincts. Sean was almost never the guy who sat at the kitchen table or on the living room sofa with the crying mom, the angry dad, the confused girlfriend, the lying boyfriend. Castillo weathered that task well with her various personas, like a method actor who could become exactly what the crying mother or lying boyfriend needed in order to get the most accurate information.
Today, though, Sean wanted to be the one to get the details. Yeah, he was probably being a little selfish, as any excuse to get to know Delaney better was one he would take. But mostly, it was her eyes. In the couple of times Sean had been around Delaney he’d seen anger, surprise, determination and doubt. Today, the glint was gone. There was nothing there but a hollow sadness, like the loss of the bike was so much more than the loss of the bike. Her eyes were like those of an animal in captivity. Like her very freedom had been stolen.
And to Sean, that just wasn’t acceptable.
Delaney was too distraught over the missing motorcycle to dwell on her shock that the guy from the gym was now the head detective on her case. She invited him upstairs where they could sit and be comfortable while he collected her information. He paused inside the shop, turning in a slow circle while he studied the bike on the lift, the merchandise and finally the pictures hanging around the perimeter of her shop. The detective’s gaze lingered on the north wall, and Delaney tried to figure out which photo had grabbed his attention.
“That the bike?” He pointed at the picture of Dad sitting on ’33.
“Yep.” Delaney stared at the photo as long as the detective had.
“I’ll get a picture of that before I go,” Detective Callahan said.
