“Nope. Olivia Bain.”
Will nearly fell off the bench. “What?” It was a six-hour drive from Geneseo. She must have set out before daybreak to be in Millers Kill now. “What’s she doing here?”
“She wants to see you, evidently.” Dad tossed him a towel. “Better mop off. You know what they say. Never let ’em see you sweat.” He cocked his head. “Do you need any help?”
“Uh.” Will’s mind raced. “Toss me a clean tee and pants, will you?”
“You got it.” His father pulled the clothes off the shelves and draped them over the weight bar. “I’ll keep her company until you get out there.”
Will lay back on the bench and wiggled his shorts off. He tugged on his baggy pants, curling his hips up, focusing on keeping his balance. He’d never gotten changed on the bench before, and he was damned if he was going to fall to the floor, to be rescued by his father.
His abs were aching by the time he snapped and zipped. He reversed his curl, sat up, and stripped off his sweaty shirt. He humped himself into the chair, grabbed the fresh tee, and was headed out the door before he had finished pulling it over his head. He rolled down the hallway, his flat pants legs flapping, and he had a moment to wish he had taken the time to fold and pin them, and then he was through the archway and there was Olivia, sitting across from his father, a backpack at her feet, looking-oh, man-even better than she had this past summer.
“Will!” She jumped up. “I’m sorry I-I wanted to-”
Dad stood. “You guys want something to eat? Maybe a soda?” Olivia shook her head.
“No, Dad, we’re fine. Thanks.” Will waited until his dad had strolled out of the living room before rolling closer to Olivia. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you. After we talked last night…” Her gaze went to his chest, his shoulders, his arms. “Wow.”
“Wow?”
Her cheeks colored. “I mean, you’re looking a lot better than I expected. After nearly killing yourself.”
He loved the way Olivia just came out with what everybody else thought but wouldn’t say. “Yeah, well. I figured as long as I was going to hang around in this body, I might as well keep it in shape. Aren’t you missing classes?”
She sat cross-legged on the sofa. “I couldn’t sleep after we talked last night. I kept thinking about my mom maybe being mixed up with this theft, and then I realized what you hadn’t said.” She looked him square in the face. “My mom’s death might not have been an accident.”
“We don’t know that. It’s a big jump-”
“You said you thought your friend’s death was suspicious.”
“Yeah…”
“Then my mom’s death was suspicious, too.” She picked up the backpack and rummaged inside. “I have a copy of the police report on her accident.” She handed him several sheets of paper, stapled together.
“You kept a copy at school?”
“Yes.” She paused. “You don’t think that’s weird, do you?” She shook her head, and her hair slid over her shoulders in interesting patterns. “Never mind. The point is, they never did an autopsy on her car.”
“Her car ? An autopsy?”
“Whatever you’d call it. I’m not good with mechanical stuff like that.” She gave him that same direct look again. “But you are.”
“Yeah, but-”
“It’s at the MacVane brothers’ junkyard. It’s still there. I called them. You and I are going over there, and you’re going to take a look at it.”
“Me? Olivia, get real.” He slapped his thighs. “I can’t go waltzing through some junkyard, and I sure as hell can’t tear into an engine while I’m sitting in this damn chair.”
“So you get up on the edge of the hood. You’re not a paraplegic. You told me everything still works.” She blushed again, deeper than before, which made him color with embarrassment… and something else. She didn’t see him as a cripple. When she said he looked good, she wasn’t talking about his health, like everyone else was. She was talking about… him.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Okay.”
“Really?” Her smile beamed like a laser. “You’ll help me out?”
You’ll help me out? He felt something twist in his chest, painful and pleasurable. Ever since he had woken up on a flight to Landstuhl, he had heard Can I help you? Now, for the first time in almost a year, he got to say it back. “Yeah.” He smiled a little. “I’ll help you.”
If he had been given free rein in the MacVane Brothers Garage and Junkyard as a kid, Will thought, he might never have signed up for the marines. He’d have been hard-pressed to find anything more appealing than working between the piles of stripped and rusting auto bodies, the brilliant morning sun picking out a Ford Gran Torino, over there, or a cherry-except for the blown-out rear-’72 Dodge Charger. The beautiful girl with him only buffed up the fantasy.
The fact she was pushing his wheelchair did not.
“You’re in luck.” Buddy MacVane strode too quickly through the yard. “We sort out the wrecks into what we’re gonna take care of first and what second, and so on.”
“Triage,” Will said. Was that an old T-Bird? Damn, it was. The chilly late October breeze carried the scent of steel and oil and mildewing leather.
“Triage, right. So like I was saying, you two are in luck. ’Cause the last ones we get to are the ones the county sends us that’ve been in a fatal accident. Used to do ’em the other way around, ’cause if it was bad enough to off somebody, they’re usually no good for nothing but scrap.”
Behind Will, Olivia made a noise. The big man slapped his head. “Aw, Gawd. I’m sorry, honey. I forgot.”
“Why’d you change your policy?” Will asked.
“A couple years back we melted down something we got sent by the state police and then it turns out somebody’d been killed in the thing. You know, before the accident. Boy, didn’t they scream blue murder. So now we just let ’em pile up in the back.”
They rounded a squat industrial shed. “There’s Sonny. My brother. He’s working on your car. We pulled it first thing this morning, soon as you called.” The crumpled Mini Cooper was on its back, beneath a heavy-duty crane. The man digging in the undercarriage looked up at them. He was Buddy’s double, right down to the greasy flannel-lined jacket and the oil-stained, drooping jeans.
“Hey, Sonny.” Buddy thumbed toward Will and Olivia. “These here are the kids who called. You got anything for them?”
“Maybe.” Sonny wiped his hands on a rag. He stared at Will. “C’mere and take a look.”
Olivia raised her hands. “I don’t… I don’t know anything about cars.” Her voice shook.
Will squeezed her hand before rolling himself forward. “I do, but I can’t get to a good angle to see inside.”
“Hell you can’t.” Sonny slapped the portable lift next to the crumpled car. “Right here.”
Will’s face burned. “Look, I don’t know if you didn’t notice-”
“Sure did. What happened to you, kid?”
Will wanted to tell the old fart it was none of his damn business, but they’d come here looking for a favor. “IED. In Fallujah.”
Sonny looked at his brother. “What service were you in, kid?” Buddy asked.
“Marine Corps.”
Buddy grinned. He shucked off his stained jacket and rolled his thermal shirt all the way up his arm. An impressively large bulldog snarled from his bicep.
“You used to be a marine?” Olivia said.
“No used to be about it, honey. Once a marine-”
“Always a marine,” Sonny finished. He dragged his oil-spattered shirt up to reveal an eagle-and-trident on his chest.
“Please tell me you don’t have one of those,” Olivia whispered.
“So drag your ass over here, marine, and tell me what you can figure out.”