Page 86 of Smith

Twenty minutes later, that final piece of the puzzle that Cash had mentioned clicking into place snapped tight.

“He said he needed to go to Philly for one of his clients,” Mike Barnes, the owner of the Tesla, reiterated.

“No need to explain, man.” Cash flashed one of his easygoing, we’re all friends here smiles. “It’s not illegal to loan your car to a friend.”

Mike’s mouth twisted.

“I wouldn’t call Billy a friend. Last year I had a tree fall in my backyard, he let me use his chainsaw and his truck to haul the scrap to the dump. I was repaying a favor. He said his truck was in the shop so I let him use my car. I telecommute most days so I don’t drive much. Besides, it was Sunday and I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

“Just Sunday?” I asked. “Not the whole weekend?”

“No. He picked it up around eight in the morning and was back by about four. I was annoyed because he didn’t go straight to Philly and back. Asshole took the longest route possible back. Damn near drained the battery.”

I glanced at Cash who still had his lazy, good ole boy friendly mask firmly in place.

“Sucks man, you do someone a favor and they take advantage. At least with that Tesla you can track your car, know how your friend’s treating your car.”

“Tell me about it,” Mike agreed.

“Crazy what cars these days can do. It’s been awhile but does that Tesla store the data?” Cash good-naturedly asked.

“The car doesn’t track driving routes. But I have this after-market app. I use it to track my time for work. I get paid for drive time.”

Mike pulled his phone out of his pocket. I wished we were doing this in his house and not standing on the street even if Jonas and Easton had peeked into Billy’s back windows and reported the house empty. The guy could come home at any time.

It took a minute longer than I would’ve liked for Mike to find what he was looking for on his phone and tilt it toward Cash.

“The trips tab here shows thirty days of driving,” Mike said, then tapped his phone. “This is the Sunday drive Billy took.”

Cash studied the phone for a moment then inquired, “You cool with me taking a picture of this?”

“Sure, when you explain to me why you’re really here. I know you’re not following up on a hit and run report. There’s no damage to my car.”

Fuck.

“Caught us.” Cash smiled. “We have a client who reported a red Tesla was following her. Our investigation led to your car.”

Goddammit.

The less this Mike guy knew the better.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Mike mumbled.

“Why doesn’t it surprise you?” I entered the conversation.

Mike’s gaze cut to Billy’s house.

“You ever get the feeling someone’s just not right?”

Christ. Dead end. We needed evidence, not a feeling.

“Sure,” Cash answered.

“That’s Billy. He seems nice enough. Lets the neighbors borrow his tools if needed, clears old man Jenkins’ walkway when it snows. But there’s something about him that’s not right.One night I was coming home and I saw him sitting in his truck idling at the curb in front of the house three doors down from him. The lights were on in the house, the curtains were open, and he was staring into the house. Didn’t even look in my direction when I drove past.”

“Do you know what he was looking at?”

Mike looked back at me with his brows pulled together and a harassed expression on his face.

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