Page 44 of Inherited Light
“He’s harmless. An all bark and no bite kind of guy, but if he comes around again, or threatens me again, I’ll get the cops involved.” I picked up the box and held it up. “Though, if the fingerprints on this bulb match a set they have on file then it all might be a moot point.”
“Unless the person wore gloves, but I hope not. It’s better to know who it was than to constantly look over your shoulder.”
I shut the door and waved as he steered back into traffic. My eyes shifted around the empty parking lot and I wondered if I shouldn’t have had him wait with me until the tire guys showed up. I shook off the feeling of being watched. Standing in broad daylight in an empty parking lot with traffic on the street didn’t lend itself to danger. It was time to stop being ridiculous. No one was out to get me.
I set the box down on the sidewalk and jogged to the van to inspect the tire. Last night the tire was flat, but I couldn’t tell why. Today, in the broad daylight, it was easy to see the large gash in it. Someone had purposely slashed this tire to strand Cat at the gallery. Whoever it was didn’t expect her to leave with someone last night.
I closed my eyes to think of possible scenarios. Maybe Xavier slashed the tire and planned to wait until she left the gallery. He would offer her a ride at just the right moment and be her knight in shining armor. Damn, I would have to talk to the cops about him after all. I couldn’t prove it, but I could suggest they check the bulb for his fingerprints. I figured he wouldn’t wear gloves since he isn’t overly smart. I bet the tire was his fault. He would wait for her to leave and then offer her assistance. Except she left with me, and he got angry. He drove to her house while we stopped at the liquor store and was lying in wait. What I couldn’t come to terms with was why he would hurt her. If he knocked me out, then he had her to himself. Unless she fought him off. Maybe they fought and she tipped over. Her head injury keeps preventing her from remembering what happened.
Tires crunched on the gravel driveway and I snapped my head up, my heart pounding. Thankfully it wasn’t anyone to cause me harm. The garage tire truck had arrived and I waved as they maneuvered in next to me. They cut the engine and climbed out.
“You Lorenzo?” one of them asked me.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I agreed, shaking the one guy’s dirty, grease covered hand. “I checked the tire and someone slashed it,” I explained, pointing out the large gash.
The guy with the name ‘Leon’ on his shirt inspected it then stood up and shook his head. “There’s no fixing it either. Good thing we threw a new tire on the truck, just in case.”
I stepped back and the two guys took over. I watched in fascination as they had the van jacked up, the tire off and the new tire on in less than ten minutes. Leon wiped his hands on a cloth which was dirtier than his hands.
“Do you want the old tire?” he asked, as he loaded his tools.
“I have no use for it,” I said, but paused. “On second thought, let’s put it in the back of the van. Her insurance may pay on the replacement cost, but I don’t have her information with me.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Leon said and he tossed it into the back of the van while his friend stashed the jack and tire changer back on the truck.
Her insurance wouldn’t pay for it, but I wanted the tire as proof someone was after her. My next stop was the cop shop and I planned to show them the tire and the bulb.
“What do I owe you?” I asked the quiet guy when he finished loading the equipment.
Leon stepped in front of the guy instantly. “I got this Mick,” he signed and Mick nodded and climbed back in the driver’s side of the truck.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was deaf,” I said stunned.
Leon laughed. “Trust me, no one does. He reads lips, but numbers are hard, so I take care of the billing.”
I had never considered reading numbers on someone’s lips was harder than most words, but it fascinated me. “I had no idea. I guess it’s my one thing to learn today. Anyway, what’s the damage?”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be cheap. It will be one fifty for the tire and mounting. If I were you, I would have her take it in somewhere and get the alignment and balancing checked. We can’t promise it’s perfect when we do an onsite job.”
I opened my wallet and handed him three fifties. “No problem, I’ll get it taken care of today. Thanks for coming out to repair it onsite. It saved me having to tow it, so one fifty is more than fair.”
He took my cash and handed me a handwritten receipt. Once they were on their way, I set the box with the light bulbs on the passenger seat. The driver’s side was a bit trickier, but once I figured out how to stash her transfer board behind the driver’s seat and I adjusted the seat backward, I was in business. I took a minute to figure out the hand controls. Even though they were connected to the pedals it appeared I could still use the pedals with my feet. I grabbed my phone quickly and sent her a text. I didn’t want to do any more damage to the van. It had seen better days, but it was all she had.
“The hand controls will go up and down when you use the pedals, but you won’t damage anything,” she texted me back.
I sent her a quick thank you, and told her where I was heading, then put it in reverse. I turned around in the parking lot and signaled left as I drove onto the street. I didn’t want to take the van in for balancing just yet. She might want to get out later today, and we could do it then. She also might have a specific mechanic she likes to use. I didn’t want to overstep my bounds and have her think I was trying to take over her life. I could tell independence was something she has worked hard for, and I didn’t want to make her feel inadequate. It was hard enough for her to concede she needed help with the light bulbs.
I stopped at Hardware Hank and jumped from the van, but I regretted it instantly when my head throbbed. It was like I had a hangover, but missed out on the fun part. I trudged through the door of the hardware store with my list in hand and found the aisle with the light bulbs. I had to grab a basket to put all the bulbs in, considering she had none at home and needed at least ten replaced. Having a supply on hand made more sense than buying them every time one burned out, but I might need a bigger basket.
“Can I help you find anything?” a voice asked.
I swiveled and an older man with graying hair and a generous belly stood next to me. He wore a green vest with a nametag which read, ‘Zach’.
I held the basket up. “My friend is out of light bulbs, so I’m stocking up.”
“Her, you say?” he asked, one brow raised almost to his hairline.
I nodded. “You might know her, actually. She owns a gallery down the street a few blocks.”
