Page 33 of Devil in the Details

“There’s nothing mechanically wrong with the car,” the man said, enunciating each word clearly, as though he wanted to make sure they all adequately penetrated his client’s brain. “We checked her from top to bottom. The brake lines are intact, and there’s plenty of brake fluid. The traction-control system is working flawlessly. So I don’t know exactly what happened to you yesterday evening. All I do know is that it had nothing to do with the vehicle.”

The news Caleb hadn’t wanted to hear, even though he’d known in the back of his mind that it was the most likely outcome. Of course the car hadn’t failed. It was a piece of engineering genius, flawless in every way.

No, this was all about demons sticking their ugly fingers where they shouldn’t.

Obviously, he couldn’t say anything about that to the service manager.

“The road wasn’t wet or anything, was it?” the guy asked next. It seemed clear to Caleb that he was looking to give him some kind of out, a way to save face rather than admit he’d screwed up, that maybe his foot had hit the gas pedal instead of the brake pedal and he hadn’t wanted to cop to making such a rookie mistake.

“No,” he said evenly. “I was driving home from a poker tournament, and the thing just went haywire.”

Something about the service manager’s expression relaxed then. He’d probably been thinking that Caleb must have been drinking to make such a huge mistake, but since alcohol wasn’t allowed during competition, his explanation about where he’d been put the kibosh on that notion.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with the car,” the guy said. “So you’re safe to drive it home.”

Driving it anywhere was about the last thing Caleb wanted to do. However, he could only imagine the raised eyebrows if he said he would prefer to leave it here.

But just because he wouldn’t abandon the thing here at the dealership, that didn’t mean he planned to keep it, either.

After thanking the service manager, he climbed into the Porsche and turned on the engine. The low, sexy growl of the motor made him want to rethink his decision, but he knew Delia was right.

The Cabriolet was too conspicuous…and that meant he needed to get rid of it.

A quick search on his phone located a used car dealership that specialized in exotic vehicles. He knew he was going to take a hit because of the way a car always lost value as soon as you drove it off the lot, but better to make sure it was well out of his life.

The guy at the used car dealership seemed a little skeptical that someone would want to sell a brand-new Porsche with barely fifty miles on the odometer, but even though Caleb only had the temporary registration, the title came back clean. Ten minutes later, he was walking out of the man’s office with a cashier’s check for a hundred and twenty grand in his pocket.

But his main bank was open until one, so he took a cab over there, deposited the check, and then called a different cab to take him to the Mercedes dealership.

Nothing flashy, he told himself as he got out of the taxi, since his gaze immediately went to a red roadster sitting near the front of the lot. All right, it wasn’t quite as conspicuous as his late, lamented metallic green Cabriolet, but he was trying to be practical here.

All the same, he was buying a coupe, dammit. He wasn’t quite ready to settle for a sedan.

A salesman approached, and Caleb explained what he was looking for. After a few minutes of walking around the various vehicles, he decided a smoke-gray CLE would be a good choice. It was certainly a pretty car, but one that shouldn’t attract too much attention.

They took a test drive, although he’d already made up his mind. Still, it was good to note that the car was very smooth and had plenty of power, and should be more than adequate for his needs.

Plus, it was about eighty grand cheaper than his Porsche.

Even though he was paying cash, the paperwork still took about an hour. Finally, he was done and driving off in his new acquisition.

He could only hope it would last a bit longer than his previous vehicle. Having to continually trade in cars was going to get old real fast.

As he drove home, he wondered what Delia was up to.

It was hard to read emotion from a text — especially when you were communicating with someone you didn’t know very well — but it seemed as if Aaron was cool with her not being able to go to Cirque du Soleil tonight.

Drinks tomorrow is fine. I know it was sort of a gamble to expect you’d be free at such late notice.

They agreed to meet in the lounge at the Hard Rock…Delia figured they couldn’t get much more public than that…and the matter seemed to be settled.

She’d just put down her phone and was getting ready to transfer a load of laundry from the washer into the dryer when her phone rang.

Aaron getting back to her and saying he couldn’t make it for drinks tomorrow after all?

That didn’t make much sense, though. They’d been messaging the whole time, so she didn’t see why he’d suddenly decide to call instead.

When she hurried out of the laundry room and into the kitchen, she realized those worries had been for nothing.

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