He laughed. 'Let's not get reckless.'
The investigation into the frame alteration continued through the fall. The paint shop's owner supplied additional records after the county requested them, and an independent metallurgical report distinguished the concealed alteration from a standard approved repair. Witnesses gave conflicting accounts of who had been in the building on the critical evening, and the authorities did not rush to make a public accusation simply because the motorcycle club wanted an answer. Caleb learned more about the patience required to prove something than he had ever wanted to know.
Eventually the evidence supported formal allegations against Skinner and another man who had arranged access to the shop. The motive, according to the investigators, involved an internal struggle over leadership and money rather than some mythic feud that could be settled with a single violent confrontation. The alleged plan had been to remove Grip from the Nevada run and make his motorcycle appear to be the cause of a serious crash. Caleb disliked hearing his diagnosis translated into the language of criminal intent, but he understood why the distinction mattered.
When reporters asked him whether he felt like a hero, he told them he had done the work a mechanic was supposed to do. That answer sounded modest to people who wanted a dramatic quote, yet it was exactly how Caleb thought about the afternoon. He had not chosen to find sabotage. He had chosen to keep looking when the convenient answers failed, and he had refused to hand back a machine he believed could hurt its owner.
Grip had a harder time accepting how narrowly he had escaped. He called occasionally to ask how the old frame was holding up and whether Jonah thought any more inspections were needed. Sometimes the calls were little more than a question followed by a grunt, but Caleb could hear something uneasy beneath them. The biker who had threatened to burn down a shop because he needed a motorcycle by sundown had learned, painfully, that his authority meant very little to the physical world.
One afternoon he arrived without his colors, wearing an ordinary dark work shirt and jeans. He parked Ruby outside, turned off the engine, and stood watching Caleb finish a repair on an older man's commuter bike. When the customer left, Grip asked whether they could talk without the rest of the shop listening. Caleb led him to the narrow office, where Aaron's photograph still hung beside the service records.
'I owe you more than money,' Grip said.
Caleb looked at the older man's hands. They were calloused, scarred, and surprisingly still as he sat on the office chair. 'You already paid the invoice.'
'I'm not talking about the invoice.' Grip took off his sunglasses and laid them on the desk. 'When I grabbed you, I saw my brother standing in front of me for a second. Not really him, but the way he used to stand when he knew I was about to do something stupid and didn't know how to stop me. I scared you because I was scared, and I turned it into anger like I always did.'