Chapter 8 — Her Own Way Out

The photograph had been taken from across the street.

Mara recognized the shop’s chipped blue sign and the narrow window beside its entrance. In the image, she stood outside with her hands on her hips, studying the building as if she could already see a repair bay inside it.

She had been alone that afternoon.

“Who sent this to Adrian?” she asked.

“The number is unregistered. We’re working on it.”

“Was there more?”

Nico opened the message thread. Adrian had answered with two words:

Keep watching.

Mara read them twice. Whoever had followed her knew she wanted the shop. Adrian had considered that worth reporting.

Nico closed the image. “You’re staying here until we identify them.”

“For now,” she said.

“For as long as they’re a threat.”

“That’s what ‘for now’ means.”

He pressed his lips together. A week ago, they might have spent the next hour arguing. Instead, Nico asked what she needed from him.

“Everything they’ve found that concerns me,” Mara said. “And an explanation when plans change.”

“You’ll have both.”

She had a request of her own. The mechanic had photographed every part of Nico’s motorcycle before touching it. She wanted to compare those photographs with the earlier inspection report and the garage records.

Nico arranged for the files to be brought to the study.

Mara spent the afternoon at his desk, moving between photographs and dates. The mechanic’s first report confirmed the loose cover he had secured. His second showed fresh tool marks elsewhere. The two problems were separate.

When Nico returned, she had laid the pages in order.

“The noise I heard that first day came from the cover,” she said. “Your mechanic fixed it. The later alteration happened after his road test.”

“Can you narrow down when?”

“The bike was clean when it came back. After Saturday’s ride, there was dust along the rear assembly.” She tapped a photograph. “This tool mark cuts through it.”

Nico leaned over the desk. “So someone worked on it between our ride and the morning you stopped me.”

“Yes. And the camera went out during that period.”

The timeline would help establish that the later change had been deliberate. Mara wrote out what she remembered hearing and when. She kept her wording precise. She would not claim to identify a damaged part by sound alone; she had heard a change, stopped Nico, and helped the mechanic locate evidence worth examining.

The attorney took a copy that evening. Mara kept her original notes.

Adrian’s messages gave them another lead. The unregistered number had sent images of delivery vans near one of Nico’s warehouses, followed by reports of his movements. A guard who worked with Adrian had supplied some of the information. Nico suspended the man’s access while the investigators checked what he knew.

For Mara, the discovery made the estate feel less secure than it had the night the vehicles hit the gate. She began to understand why Nico wanted to keep her within sight. Understanding did not make being watched pleasant.

On the third day, she found him waiting outside the library while two guards followed her down the hall.

“I’m going to the kitchen,” she said. “You can come with me if you’re hungry.”

“I came to tell you they identified the photographer.”

“Who?”

“A man Adrian paid. He watched the workshop twice and your apartment once. He hasn’t been found yet.”

Mara stopped. “Did he follow Ruth?”

“We have no indication that he did.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I asked them to check.”

She nodded. Nico had answered directly, even though the answer was incomplete. She appreciated the effort.

“I want to go to the shop,” she said.

“Not until this man is found.”

“I don’t mean today. I need to know whether the landlord will hold it.”

“I can have someone ask.”

“I’ll call her myself.”

Nico looked as though he wanted to argue, then handed her his phone. Mara took out her own.

The landlord, Ms. Ellis, remembered her visit. She was surprised when Mara asked about the unit again.

“I thought you’d decided against it,” she said.

“I was working out the numbers.”

“I have another person interested. No application yet.”

Mara asked for the terms and an application. Ms. Ellis emailed both while they spoke. After ending the call, Mara sat at the library table and opened her notebook.

The rent would consume most of what she could save over the next several months. She would need insurance, basic tools, a lift, and enough money to get through a slow opening. She wrote down each cost. Nico sat across from her without offering to pay it.

At last, he asked, “Does it work?”

“Not if I open tomorrow. Maybe if I keep my job and take weekend repairs first.”

“Could the landlord allow that?”

“I’ll ask.”

“What about customers?”

Mara looked up. “I know a few people who still ride.”

He glanced at the calculation in front of her. “You’ve made a plan.”

“I’m trying.”

She expected the old ache to follow: the memory of losing Bennett Cycles, of selling equipment piece by piece. Instead, she felt impatient to do the next thing.

On the following morning, Nico received confirmation that the photographer had been located and interviewed. He had never approached Mara or Ruth. Adrian had paid him to report her movements and the places she visited. The people connected to the gate attack had withdrawn after their failed attempt, and investigators were following the payment trail.

The news made it possible for Mara to visit the shop with sensible precautions. She did not need an escort standing over her while she measured the doorway, but she accepted a ride there and a guard posted outside.

Ms. Ellis met her with the key. Inside, dust lay on the concrete floor. There was room for one lift, a workbench, and two bikes waiting for collection. Mara measured the bay and checked the electrical panel. She photographed the side door and made a note about its lock.

“You know what you’re looking for,” Ms. Ellis said.

“I used to work in a shop like this.”

“Is it a family business?”

Mara glanced at the bare wall where a sign might hang. “I hope it will be.”

She took the application home. Before filling it in, she asked Nico to look at a copy of the lease. He offered to have his attorney review the terms as well; Mara agreed to pay for that time.

That evening, the attorney called with one unexpected question.

“Have you ever dealt with a company called Lakefront Holdings?” he asked.

Mara gripped the phone. “Why?”

“The company bought your father’s old workshop after it closed. I found the name while checking your proposed lease. Someone associated with Adrian has a financial interest in it.”

Mara stared at the photograph of the empty new shop on her desk.

She had expected Adrian’s reach to end at Nico’s garage. Now she needed to know why his money had touched Bennett Cycles.