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He said tersely, “Okay. Fine. I’ll poke around and see what I can find out.” He had the satisfaction of seeing a flash of surprise in Flint’s green-gold eyes.

“Right. Well, keep in touch.”

“I’ll write home every week.” Zach slipped out of the Explorer, closing the door on Flint’s laugh.

He left the cement landing pad and cut across the slope to the back of the garage. The sun made a tentative appearance, throwing luminous light over the clearing. Zach paused for a moment, listening. Thebuzzzzof a saw floated in the distance. Nearby he heard the trill of a bird.

Flint got out of the Ford Explorer and started briskly toward the house. He didn’t glance in Zach’s direction.

Zach watched him for a moment, studying Flint’s long-legged stride, the self-assured way he carried himself. It occurred to him that Flint was a guy who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted—and made no apologies.

Except Flintdidapologize when he thought he was wrong or he thought he’d hurt you.

That probably said more about Flint’s confidence, even strength of character, than anything else.

And why the heck was he standing here admiring Flint’s personality traits when he was supposed to be investigating whatever he was supposed to be investigating?

Zach shook his head at himself and left the safety of his position behind the garage.

The path alongside the garage sloped steeply downward. It was covered with pine needles and pine cones from the canopy of trees overhead, which made it slippery in spots.

Flint had disappeared from view by the time Zach made his way to the bottom. He was thinking he’d try to get a look inside the garage and see if he could find any sign that the Porsche had been tampered with.

But as he came around the corner of the large building, he heard the rumble of garage doors and the Bentley pulled out, rolled a few feet, and stopped in the drive. The car door opened, and Chico, dressed in jeans and a blue San Jose University sweatshirt climbed out.

Chico went back inside the garage and came out a moment later carrying a bucket. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Zach hovering nearby.

“What are you doing here, GQ?” His expression was dark with suspicion.

“Trying to figure out what happened to my client,” Zach said.

Chico’s face screwed up in contempt. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? His lawyers ought to demand a refund.”

“You were his bodyguard,” Zach shot back. “I was just supposed to figure out who was behind the threats.”

“How’s that going?”

Arguing with Chico was not useful. Zach got control of his anger. He was honest enough to recognize he was angry because he was defensive, but Chico was defensive, too. A lot of people, including Zora, were liable to think Chico as culpable as Zach in the matter.

He asked more calmly, “I take it you don’t think the accident was an accident?”

Chico opened his mouth, then closed it. “How should I know? I’m not a cop.”

“It seems like an awfully big coincidence.”

Chico shrugged. “Coincidences happen.”

They did. True enough. Chico getting called away on a family emergency the night before was an almost unbelievable coincidence, and yet it seemed to have checked out.

“Would it be okay if I looked around the garage?”

Chico stared at him in disbelief. “Why? You think the sheriffs wouldn’t have noticed brake fluid on the floor or a couple of stray lug nuts?”

“No. I just thought—the sheriff’s deputies already went over everything?”

“Of course.”

Of course.