Paying The Piper - 24. Chapter 24

Cale called Elizabeth as they drove out to see his car. Drew sat beside him, stoic. She answered on the first ring, which shocked Cale enough that he was momentarily at a loss for words. She must have been sitting on the phone. "Elizabeth, it’s me," he said.

"Oh, Cale! Are you all right?"

"I’m fine." He reached across the seat and put his hand on Drew’s thigh. Drew covered it with his.

Well…where are you?" She sounded flustered.

"With…a friend." Cale cringed. Drew squeezed his hand, silently forgiving him.

"Oh. I see."

After a long awkward silence, Cale sighed. "I just called to tell you I’m okay. I’ll speak to you soon, okay?"

"Are you coming home?"

Cale frowned. He swore he heard actual longing in Elizabeth’s voice. "No," he said. "I’m not. Not right now." Not ever.

Elizabeth sighed shakily. "I guess we need to talk."

Drew slowed the jeep and Cale looked up as his car came into view. His stomach fluttered. "Jesus," he whispered.

Elizabeth’s voice turned worried. "What? Cale?"

Cale glanced at Drew, who was also staring at the drop-off with a stony expression. "I have to go, Elizabeth. I’ll call soon." He hit the end button.

Quent got out of his car and walked back to the jeep. He pointed at Cale. "Are you beginning to understand my concerns?"

Cale swallowed and nodded. He reached for the door handle, but Drew stopped him. Cale glanced back, a question in his eyes, only to find Drew’s expression thunderous. His grip on Cale’s hand tightened painfully.

Cale reached up and cupped Drew’s stubbled cheek in his hand. Neither of them had bothered to shave. As if Quent would have allowed them the time. "I’m fine," he said. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across Drew’s cheekbone. "Fine," he insisted.

Quent banged on the window and they both jumped. "Enough. I’ll let you hold hands on the way to the station. Let’s go."

Drew didn't answer, but gave Cale a sharp nod. With a deep breath, he got out and followed Quent down the slope.

At the bottom, Drew inspected the crippled car. "There’s damage on both rear quarter panels." He looked up at Quent. "He was definitely struck twice."

Quent nodded. "What else?"

Drew squinted at the damage on the driver’s side. He ran his hand over some long scratches. "Hard to say, since Cale’s roadster’s black, but I think there was actually some black paint left behind here."

"The other car was black as well."

"I think so. A slightly different shade. Black vehicle paint actually comes in several different hues."

"Anything else?"

Drew stood and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans. "The pattern of damage suggests a large car. I think a truck would sit too high to cause this. But…." His voice trailed off as he thought.

Quent watched Cale as he listened to Drew. The first thing Cale had done was retrieve his cell phone from the car. Now he was peering over the edge of the ravine. The sight made Quent’s stomach flip-flop. "But?" he asked.

"It must have been a hell of a car. Whatever it was, it managed to crumple the rear quarter panels on a Mercedes SLK. Do you know how difficult that is?"

"Probably sustained some hefty damage of its own."

Drew nodded. "Unless it was a tank, it undoubtedly did."

"There are two auto repair shops in town. One is open only part time, when the owner needs the cash. The other—"

"Belongs to Dean Shaeffer," Drew interrupted. "I know."

Quent pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you do." From the corner of his eye, he saw Cale lean even further over the edge of the cliff. "Get away from there!"

Cale’s, "Yes, mom," floated over on a light breeze. Drew grinned.

Quent wondered when it would be acceptable to suggest they get a drink.

**********

They left the car where it was. On the way to town, Cale called and arranged a tow truck to pick it up and take it to Dean Shaeffer’s garage. Drew shook his head when he hung up. "What?" Cale asked.

"That was close."

"I’m fine, Drew."

"I don’t like the way things are shaking out. Why are you a target all of a sudden?" He wrung his hands on the steering wheel. Not knowing how to answer, Cale just sighed.

They stopped at the garage. Quent had beaten them there and was questioning Dean.

As Drew and Cale walked up, Dean’s face broke out into a huge smile. Quent didn’t even look over his shoulder. "Let me guess," he drawled. "Mr. Marcus has arrived."

"Drew!" Dean exclaimed. He reached around Quent to pump Drew’s hand. Grumbling under his breath, Quent swiveled and walked away. Cale stayed. He had yet to witness firsthand the phenomenon that was Drew Marcus.

"How’s the jeep running?"

"All better now, thanks to you."

Dean made a dismissive gesture. As Drew and Dean launched into an in-depth discussion about body paint – the automotive kind – Cale saw another car he recognized pull in to the parking lot.

Smiling, Cale walked over to where it parked. "Hello, Stuart," he said as the doctor stepped out of his car.

Stuart Cobb greeted Cale with a smile and a handshake. "Hello, Cale. Car giving you problems?"

Cale laughed. "A few. Yours?"

Stuart darted a glance at his BMW. "No. Just an oil change."

Quent’s voice rang out across the parking lot. "Cobb!" Both Stuart and Cale turned to see Quent striding toward them.

"I’d like a word with you if you don’t mind," Quent said when he reached them. Cale gave Quent a strange look, but politely excused himself and made his way back to Drew.

"Just one word, Quent?" Stuart asked with a smile.

Quent returned the smile grimly. Why, he wondered, did everyone think themselves a comedian? "Yes, actually. Cynthia."

Stuart’s smile faltered. "I thought we’d covered that."

"Some new information has come to light," Quent said cryptically.

"Really?" Stuart said. Quent pulled out his notebook. Stuart leaned back against the car and crossed his arms. "All right."

Quent turned to Stuart’s page in his notebook. The word "evades" popped out at him. He looked up at Stuart. "Was Marci Patterson blackmailing you for sleeping with Cynthia?"

Stuart shook his head. "No, but she tried."

Quent gave him a skeptical look. "Tried?"

"I didn’t consider my relationship with Cynthia something to be ashamed of."

Quent found that difficult to believe. "She was a wh—"

"She was perfect," Stuart interrupted. "Perfect." His voice dropped to a whisper. "No one understood her." He pointed a finger at his own chest. "I did. If you haven’t already, I suggest you check out her brother. Now that’s a classic example of obsession." With one last pointed look at Quent, he walked away.

Quent thrust his tongue in his cheek. He wrote "psycho" in his notebook directly under "evades." It was good advice, actually. One should always evade a psycho – if one could.