I waved him off. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” I finished off my cup then made a second, leaving it on the counter. “I’ll be right back. I need to change into my jumpsuit so I can vamoose after Cobi and Franks take my statement.”
Jackson nodded. “Sure. I’ll protect your coffee from Landon.”
“Thanks.” I hurried to my room. The space seemed so foreign to me now. I spent more time with Mack, either at the ranch or at his apartment, that this place was beginning to not feel like home anymore. I didn’t know how to process that realization, so I pushed it aside for now. Maybe later, when the madness calmed down, I’d think things over. When I was somewhat presentable, I headed back downstairs. I caught the tail end of a conversation as I came back into the kitchen, only to find Cobi and Franks standing there.
Both men wore grim expressions. Outside, a team of forensic people were dusting the handles on the garage doors for prints while also taking pictures.They work fast.I grabbed my cup off the counter then went to join them. Between Jackson, Landon, Hunter, and both detectives, the testosterone in the area was a little hard to swallow at the moment.
“We noticed your neighbors have cameras,” Cobi said. “I was telling Hunter before you joined us, I’m going to ask if they have footage from last night. Hopefully, they caught something and it’ll make our jobs easier.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” I stared at the hole where my bike should be sitting. Grief. Loss. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what I was feeling besides anger. The Triumph was the first vintage item I bought before our parents died. My father and I spent hours fiddling with the engine until she ran perfectly. It was also the last project we did together. That was a quirk with our parents. They were traditional in a way. Our mom taught us how to cook and mend and create stuff with our hands while our father taught us about cars. Landon’s truck was their project together. The fact Jackson never got to experience the same with our father hurt.
We’d all pitched in though to buy him the beat-up Comet. All three of us rebuilt it with him. The painstaking task not only helped him grieve, but it also helped us heal as a family too. So, standing there and watching forensic people go through our shit felt like a violation of our collective souls.
“Can you tell us where you were last night?” Cobi prodded while Franks went to talk with the other officers on scene.
Even that question seemed like victim blaming to me. “With Mack. I haven’t been here in a couple of days.”
“So, it could have been gone longer than just today?” he hedged.
I met Cobi at the birthday party for Waverly. The man didn’t hesitate or beat around the bush. Right now, he was poking at me for answers to fill in his blanks, and I was the one giving him non-starters. “No. Hunter would have called me before then. Or I would have noticed it missing. I’m usually the first one out the door in the morning. The shop is our baby, and I like the reputation we’ve earned.”
“Does anyone have a key for your bike?” Cobi wrote down my answers as I gave them.
“No. I have it on my key ring.” I motioned for him to follow me over to my car. I’d been so caught up in everything that my dumbass left the keys in the ignition. “It’s this one. It goes into the engine block on the right side. It’s also a kick start.”
He nodded. “Do you have an estimated value of the bike?”
I snorted. “There are always two values, Cobi, you know this. Sentimental and Blue Book.”
“True. But we can only go by one for this investigation,” he reminded me.
“Sure enough. The last time I checked, my bike’s worth was in the neighborhood of fifty grand.”
Cobi whistled. “Serious?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “No aftermarket parts for me. I went to classic shops to find what I needed, and with the help of my father, I rebuilt the bike from the ground up.” I shrugged. “So, sentimental value, priceless.”
He pointed to the Comet then the pickup and Hunter’s Harley. “What makes your bike more important than those vehicles?”
I didn’t know. “Your guess is as good as mine. But—” This was going to cost me to admit out loud what’d been happening. “It’s not the first incident.”
“Are there reports on file?” Cobi narrowed his eyes as he flipped the page on his notepad.
“Yes, to all of them. Slashed tires, the keying, broken windows, and now this. I thought they were jealous women who believed Hunter and Landon’s cocks made the world go round.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “Guess a jilted lover wouldn’t steal a bike, huh?” Again, I pushed aside the niggle at the back of my mind that told me I knew who took my bike. It was the same voice who told me on numerous occasions I was stupid to believe everything happening to me was all coincidence. There was only one person who would steal my Triumph.
“You also had vandalization at your shop too, correct? Some woman spray-painted the roll up doors?”
“Don’t remind me.”
He grinned. “I’m going to be honest, on the surface it sure does sound like a jilted lover, but I wonder if it’s for you, not your brothers.”
My heart seized in my chest, fisted by the knowledge of what Cobi just said. Of course I’d been found. Not many Banks lived in this part of the state. Plus, our rep was preceding us. It was only a matter of time before Edgar came sniffing around. In the beginning of our relationship, he hadn’t been an abusive asshole, but after I found out about him fencing vehicles and running a chop shop right under my nose, there was no way I could stay. I should have gone to the police right then and there, however, I ran with my brothers. In escaping, I’d become a liability to his business.
“Ireland? Are you okay?” Cobi touched my forearm, drawing my attention back to him.
“Sorry, yeah,” I shook my head. “I’m good. And, no, I don’t think it’s me.” I lied again. I hated doing so, but I couldn’t handle rehashing shit at the moment. I needed to get to work and forget about everything.
“Did you tell Mack before you left his place?” he pressed.