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Marco pointed both forefingers at them. “Keep your guard up.”
“That’s the plan.” The sheriff rolled up his window, and Marco waved them on.
It was quiet on the rez this evening. Peaceful. There weren’t many cars on the road. Long stretches of scruffy grassland disappeared into the distant mountain ranges. The party crowd typically migrated to downtown Heart Lake for Friday night happy hour and stayed, leaving the rez a ghost town for the weekend.
Adriel skirted the business district and housing communities, sticking to an empty two-lane back road. “Marco has been using his fancy equipment to listen in on some of the conversations between Mato and his friends. They’ve been mostly sticking to a racing app called Next Road. They used it to announce a drag race the other night on this very stretch of highway.”
“And?” Shep pressed when he grew silent.
“Nobody showed up. Marco flew a camera drone over the area. Nothing but crickets.”
Shep frowned thoughtfully. “Any reports of drag racing elsewhere on the rez?”
“No, but I like how you think.” Adriel nodded approvingly. “We had the right location. A few of the Paddocks’ cars zipped through there, probably trolling for excitement. Saw nothing. Kept driving.”
“About how many cars would you say?”
“Six. They were traveling in pairs. Few minutes between each pair. Not sure if there’s any significance to that.”
Shep tucked the information away for later consideration. They were approaching the Paddocks’ land. “Any update on the two graves next to the grill?”
“Nah. Marco and my sister are still pushing to get the council to declare it a sacred burial site, and I don’t blame ‘em. No final decision yet. It’s gonna be an uphill battle, for obvious reasons.”
Shep could see why. “Are the Paddocks pushing to resume their clearing?”
“Nope. They’ve been oddly silent on the matter. Almost like they were…” He shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.
“Giving you a win,” Shep suggested slowly.
“Yeah, it’s crossed my mind. But why?” Adriel sniffed. “The Paddocks couldn’t care less what anyone thinks about them. Strategists they are not.”
“But,” Shep raised a finger, “their newest pals might be.”
“Again, I like how you think.” Adriel slowed the cruiser to turn into a wide gravel parking lot on the right. “Hold that thought while I charm our way into the compound.”
Shep soon discovered what he meant by that. The police car was converged on by a trio of men dressed like airport runway staff. They were wearing reflector vests and holding light sticks for directing traffic. Rising behind them was a white metal warehouse. It was much larger than Shep had been expecting. Like Adriel, he wondered where a poor Comanche like Levi was getting the money. Was fixing up and selling race cars really that profitable?
The man standing closest to Adriel’s door motioned for him to roll down his window. “Evening, sheriff.” He nodded respectfully at him. Though he ducked his head to peer inside the vehicle, his expression didn’t change. “How many are in your party?”
“Three people. Two dogs. No cats.” Adriel kept his response short and succinct, interjecting his usual brand of dry humor.
From the corner of his eye, Shep watched one of the guys on his side of the cruiser make a phone call, presumably to report their arrival to someone. He hung up the phone and made a rally sign to the guy standing by Adriel’s window.
The man started speaking again. “If you’ll park in the lane leading to the first auto bay, Levi is expecting you.”
Levi is expecting us?That was new rhetoric. Shep exchanged a look with Adriel, curious as to why the parking lot attendants were trying to make Levi Paddock sound like royalty.
“Thanks.” Adriel rolled up his window. “Game on,” he announced quietly as he rolled forward into the spot they were directing him toward.
Almost immediately, the large garage door in front of them started to roll open. Bright lights glinted from the other side. Cars and equipment took shape.
“The fellas in the parking lot aren’t Comanche,” Shep noted while they finished watching the garage door open. “Have you ever seen them before?”
“They’ve come and gone a few times through the checkpoint. No ties to the kings that we’re aware of. Claim they’re security guards for the Paddock facilities.”
“Do all race car repair facilities require this kind of security?” Prim peered curiously through the windshield.
“Not that I’m aware of. You?” Adriel shot Shep a skeptical look.
