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Oliver has had one panic attack, and a particularly nasty migraine a week ago, but he’s improving day by day. Except for the amnesia. The only thing since Breanna that triggered his memory was seeing Smith’s dog. He remembered Smith bringing it to the shop when he first got it. Brains are weird.
Whether he regains his memories or not, he’s learning to live again.
Oliver bounds through the kitchen door about ten minutes after I get home from work. His clothes are streaked with dirt, and the smell of the shop clings to him. That smell always throws me back to days of Alden coming in the same way. Oliver isn’t usually dirty, though.
“What happened to you?” I ask, chuckling.
“Milo had me help him clean out carburetors and showed me how to replace a fuel tank.”
“You were working on the bikes?”
He leans against the counter wearing a wide smile. “Don’t sound so surprised. I can learn more than inventory and accounting.”
I toss a chunk of green pepper at him, and he snatches it out of the air. “I know that. It just wasn’t your job before.”
He shrugs and pops the piece of pepper into his mouth. “Staying on the computer too long gives me a headache. And I want to be useful while I’m there. By the way, go look out the front window.”
“What? Why?”
“Just go look.”
“If you have one of the guys waiting to jump out and scare me, I will kick your ass.” It takes me a second to realize what I’m supposed to be seeing when I push the curtain aside. Oliver’s car sits parked beside mine. It’s been at the shop since that awful day.
“Did you drive here?” I ask.
He beams at me and nods. “The doctor cleared me today.”
“Congratulations!” I exclaim, grabbing him in a hug. My words muffle against his shirt. “We should celebrate. Do you want to go out? We could catch a movie.”
Before he can answer, my phone rings. “It’s Detective Ramos,” I exclaim, glancing at the screen. We haven’t had much news or progress. The detective warned us that the justice system moves at a snail’s pace, and they’ve still been looking for Dean Warren with no luck.
Oliver stands beside me while I answer on speaker so we can both hear. “Hello.”
“Ella?”
I’m holding my breath. He’s not calling out of the blue for nothing. Something is happening. “Yeah, I’m here. Oliver is too.”
“Good. How are you, Oliver?”
“Better every day, thanks. Do you have news for us?”
“I do. About two hours ago, Indianapolis police picked up Dean Warren. He’s being transferred to Vanderburgh County jail.”
“You’ve got both of them,” I manage through the knot in my throat.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll have more information for you shortly. And Oliver will likely be hearing from the prosecutor soon, but I wanted you to know we got them.” The emotion in his voice is clear. He’s worked on this case from the beginning and I’m so grateful he’s the one who’s investigating. My fear that Alden would just be another statistic in the city was unfounded.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. There’s no chance they’ll let either of them out on bail or anything?”
His chuckle is rough. “With double murder, attempted murder, and robbery? No way.”
Oliver and I both thank him again before we hang up. For a moment, I stand in my living room, processing what he told me. It’s not over. They aren’t convicted, but they aren’t running around living a carefree life.
“Now we really need to celebrate,” Oliver says.
“Absolutely. What do you want to do?”
“Actually, Smith was telling me that a local band called Iceleaf is playing tomorrow night at a bar down the street from the shop. He said I always went to see them before.”
