Chapter Eighteen

It was a long and painful walk home. Blue staggered back and forth on the sidewalk. I’d have carried her but it took all my strength to keep her upright.

Ivy darted along beside us. “Howard, let me help.”

“This is my fault, Ivy,” I said. “My bike. I won’t pass her off on someone else.”

I trudged along, one foot after the other, and tried to block out the dull sound of Blue’s flat wheels on the cement. My stomach felt like it was filled with lead. I tried talking to keep her moving, repeating the same words: “It’s okay, girl. I got you. It’s okay.”

Finally, my house loomed into view. “Want me to stay?” Ivy asked. “I’ll call my Grandma, and I can stay.”

“No,” I said. “There’s nothing for you to do.”

“We’re going to figure out who did this, Howard. They won’t get away with it.” Ivy touched one of Blue’s handlebars. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

“I’m sure.” I met her gaze. “But thanks.”

I dragged Blue up the sidewalk and into the garage, setting her upside down in her parking space. Best to take the pressure off her wounded wheels. Sagging against the wall, I slid to the floor. Idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot. My fingers clenched, and my nails dug into my palms. Someone trashed my office, and how did I react? Did I carefully investigate? Keep an eye on my loved ones? I banged my fists against the floor, feeling the need to pummel something. No, I ran around needling suspects like I was Sam freaking Spade. I thought I was brilliantly forcing the perp out into the open. Putting the pressure on while they made mistakes. I screwed up, but it was Big Blue who’d paid the price. I’d ignored rule number seven: never underestimate your opponent.

Stroking Blue’s fender, I murmured apologies. It was never the private eye who got knocked down; it was always his best friend. I’d missed the boat on proceeding with caution. Time to get my act together and come up with a plan of attack.

The garage door rattled open, and its rusty squeals startled me out of my revenge fantasies. My old man pulled in, brow knit at the sight of Blue and me slumped in our corner. He got out of his car and ambled over. “Blue, Howard,” he said. “Lurking in the garage for any particular reason?”

I nodded my head to my prostrate partner. “Blue needs new tires.”

He frowned and peered at Blue. “What happened?”

“We ran over a rock.”

He took a step forward for a closer look. “A sharp, knife-shaped rock happened to pierce both of Blue’s tires. Through the sides?”

“Yes.”

He sighed and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. “Howard, what’s going on? Has your P.I. thing gotten you into something dangerous?”

“It’s nothing. It was my own fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I boosted myself up from the floor and dusted off my bag.

He patted Blue’s frame gently. “She’s been a good old bike.”

“She still is,” I said, cutting off the eulogy. “She just needs new tires. I’ve got money saved, I can buy them myself.”

Pops nodded. “We can go on Saturday.” He turned abruptly to face me. “Howard, we haven’t been spending as much time together now that you’re back in school. I hope you know you can talk to me if you need to.”

“It was a rock, Pops.” I headed to the door. “Everything’s fine.”

Everything was a train wreck, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. What should have been a simple case had turned into a personal attack. I couldn’t let that slide. I wouldn’t. Telling my old man about it would only put him in the way of what needed to be done.

Not revenge.

Justice.

I had the whole night to plan how to solve this case and make Lisa, Bradley, and Mr. Vannick pay.