Page 52 of June 7

"What are you thinking?" she asked, glancing at the clock.

"I don't want to upset you."

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing you do would ever upset me. We've known each other forever. You know that."

Liz swirled in the chair and faced her. "I was thinking, after the break-in, that maybe someone heard you were living there and decided to be nosey. You know, because of what your dad did."

The idea disgusted her. "Seaglass Cove needs to be known for something besides my father's crime."

"People are weird." Liz whispered, "Maybe it was even teenagers daring each other to break in. Sort of a double-dog dare to prove they weren't scared of the daughter of the man who—"

"You mean, maybe they dared each other to touch something that belonged to someone who has the blood of a murderer running in her veins?" Daisy's chest tightened. "As if I'd catch them and kill them?"

"Daisy—"

"Since I wasn't home, they now have bragging rights," she spit out.

"Well, now it sounds stupid, and I've hurt your feelings." Liz stood.

Daisy waved her concern off. "It's not stupid. I thought of it myself, except the crime happened eight miles down the shoreline, not at my duplex. Nobody knows where I live now. They only know me if they see me around town."

Liz motioned toward the half door. "Time for Sierra to leave."

"Go ahead and tell Melonie to take her place. I'm going to sweep through the women's locker room and pick up all the towels left behind today, and then I'm going home."

Liz hugged her. "Call me if you need me. I'll just be working my Zumba butt off."

"Will do."

Fifteen minutes later, she had her backpack in her hand and jogged down the steps toward Havlin Parts Shop. Several bikers loitered on the sidewalk. Instead of avoiding them, she waved, recognizing all of them.

Link opened the door for her. "Bane's inside."

"Thanks." She slipped inside.

The shop had its own scent. Specifically, the smell of her hands after playing on the monkey bars when she was little. Not unpleasant but distinctly metal. Yet, she knew it had to do with motorcycle parts.

"Babe."

She looked toward the counter and found Bane bent with a wrench or socket or whatever tool he pumped in his hand and, in return, made a clicking sound when pulled back. "You look busy."

"Just finishing up." He tapped the hunk of metal in front of him. "Wire needed a new bottom piece for his bike, so I was helping him out."

"That's nice of you," she said.

He grunted.

She leaned over and kissed him. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too, babe." He tightened the bolt and tossed the tool under the counter. "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are," she said.

He wiped his hands off on a rag, squirted some cleaner onto his palms, and rubbed vigorously. "Do you need to stop anywhere first?"

Watching the black grease come off his hands, she shook her head. "Nope."

He walked over to the sink, washed with more soap, and grabbed his helmet. "I got your tires on."

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