Sarah was not impressed. "Your world has apparently made an exception for murdering brothers. Maybe it's time you stopped letting it decide what counts as straightforward."
Billy let out a low, unhappy sound, and Wyatt looked toward him. Sarah expected another threat. Instead Wyatt walked past the two men and leaned against the skeletal frame of an old delivery truck, staring at the mountains with both hands open at his sides.
The first vehicle to arrive was not a bomb squad truck. It was a dusty county patrol SUV driven by Deputy Anita Mercer, a woman in her early forties with a patient face and an expression that sharpened as soon as Sarah explained the situation. Mercer knew the Junction, and she had once brought her mother's station wagon to Martin to have a transmission replaced. She listened without interrupting, then radioed for additional assistance and established a wider safety perimeter around the front lot.
"You did the right thing by leaving it alone," she told Sarah. "I need everybody to stay back until the specialists get here."
"I know," Sarah said. "But I appreciate hearing somebody official say it."
Mercer asked for names and identification. When Wyatt gave his, her expression shifted just enough to show recognition, but she did not treat the name as evidence of a crime. She asked him whether he had seen anyone working on his motorcycle, and he answered with frustrating care. Sarah could tell he was measuring every word against a lifetime of habits that did not disappear merely because somebody had tried to kill him.
Billy offered almost nothing after that. He claimed his earlier statements had been a misunderstanding, then said he wanted an attorney. Mercer noted both things and did not argue with him. Evan gave his name and explained what he had seen in the garage, although he repeatedly looked to Wyatt for permission before speaking.
"Look at me, Evan," Mercer said gently. "You are answering my questions, not his."
Evan flushed with embarrassment. Wyatt stepped away from him and stood beside Sarah, allowing the younger man the space to answer without an audience directly behind his shoulder. It was a small movement. Sarah noticed because the old Wyatt, the man of whispered reputations, might not have considered doing it at all.
A county fire crew arrived, followed by a specialized hazardous-device team from farther west. They used equipment Sarah did not possess and methods she made no attempt to inspect. By late afternoon, the technicians had confirmed that the alteration to Wyatt's motorcycle was dangerous and had removed the threat without putting the diners or the pumps at risk. Sarah remained behind the safety line, grateful that nobody had asked her to prove her mechanical competence by touching a thing she did not understand.
A technician eventually spoke to Mercer in private. Mercer returned to Sarah and Wyatt with her expression fixed in that carefully neutral way Sarah associated with bad news. She explained that the recovered material and associated components would be documented as evidence and examined further. She would not speculate about who put it there or what a later laboratory report might establish.