The hub.
The fight.
Noah’s mother looked toward the map.
“Seven stops.”
“Yes.”
“What’s at them?”
“No idea.”
“And you think Evan expected Noah to ride to California?”
“Someday.”
She stared.
“No.”
Tank nodded.
“Okay.”
That surprised her.
“You’re not going to argue?”
“It says when you say yes.”
She looked at the letter.
Evan had written:
Not before his mother says yes.
Her eyes softened for one second.
Then hardened again.
“He knew me.”
“He was afraid of you.”
“He should have been.”
Tank smiled.
She asked:
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Noah is nine.”
“This doesn’t need to happen today.”
She looked toward the bike.
“Good.”
Then:
“But Daniel?”
Tank hesitated.
“That might.”
“Why?”
“Because Evan died two years ago.”
“If Daniel doesn’t know…”
She looked away.
The possibility was painful.
“What if he thinks Evan is alive?”
Tank nodded.
“I’ve thought about that.”
“Can you find him?”
“Probably.”
“Do it.”
Tank looked at her.
“You sure?”
“No.”
She picked up the hub again.
“But I’m tired of dead men deciding when the living get information.”
Tank nodded.
Fair.
Daniel Price was not difficult to find.
That was the first surprise.
He lived outside Santa Monica.
Retired mechanical engineer.
Divorced.
One adult daughter.
No criminal record.
No mysterious disappearance.
No hidden identity.
Just a seventy-year-old man living in a small house six blocks from the ocean.
The second surprise came from Tank’s first phone call.
Daniel answered.
“Hello?”
Tank almost hung up.
Instead:
“Daniel Price?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Mason Callahan.”
Silence.
Then:
“Tank?”
Tank’s hand tightened around the phone.
“You know me?”
“Evan talked about you.”
“When?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
Tank’s pulse increased.
“When did you last talk to him?”
Daniel said:
“Eight years ago.”
Tank sat down.
“What?”
“We spoke once.”
Tank could not process it.
Evan had told everyone they had not spoken in decades.
Daniel continued.
“He called me.”
“Why?”
“He said he was sick.”
Tank closed his eyes.
Cancer diagnosis.
Eight years earlier.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did you visit?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Daniel said:
“Because he told me not to.”
Tank almost shouted.
Instead:
“He’s dead.”
Daniel made no sound for several seconds.
Then:
“I know.”
Tank froze again.
“How?”
“A lawyer contacted me after the funeral.”
Tank’s anger rose.