Page 3 of Furious (The Six Six Six Rule #2)

Blast From The Past

ARES

“ F ucking teenagers.” Dan Hurst spits out, showing me and my partner the CCTV footage that prompted him to call the sheriff’s department.

“I miss the times when the biggest of our worries was to catch them trying to buy beer with fake IDs. Which was only a problem with the college kids and the tourists. For kids like you, it was impossible to even try. We’ve known you forever. ”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll be able to drink legally as of next week.”

Dan smiles. “That’s right. Make sure you drop by. We’ll have a beer together. You deserve one just for never trying to come here with a fake ID.”

As if. Like Dan already pointed out, if you don’t count the tourists that descend into our town in the summer, and the college population, Star Cove is still a small town where we all know each other.

If that hadn’t made getting away with stuff like underage drinking hard enough, everyone in town knew my dad even before he became mayor. Dan is such a big fan that he never let my old man pay for beer.

“Here.” Dan stops the footage to show us the reason for his call. “See this?”

Two tall, lanky figures approach one of the two pumps. It’s impossible to identify them, because their faces are completely covered by helmets. The image is grainy, but those don’t look like football or hockey helmets. They’re motorcycle helmets.

We watch as they tap something against the display where you’re supposed to tap your debit card and fill four tanks with gas.

“What are we looking at?” I ask, wishing the images were better quality. “Was their card declined?”

“They didn’t use a card.” Dan explains. “I think they used a phone to hack into the system. They got to pump gas as if they were paying, but no payment was actually made. The pump shouldn’t work when the station is unmanned unless you enter a valid payment method.

They got the gas as if they had paid, but the transaction shows declined. ”

Huh. This isn’t good. “Can we have a copy of the video and see how the transaction shows in your system? Hopefully, they left some kind of an electronic trace that will give our IT department something to work on.”

What I don’t say is that our “IT department” is one single cop who attended a couple of IT classes in college and has been assigned to anything that has to do with technology at the station. From calling our internet provider when the system crashes, to cyber crime.

“There’s more.” Dan says. “I don’t know if the two things are related, but I found some damage out back. Follow me.”

The back of the small gas station coincides with the eastern boundary of the city. Drive past the gas station and you are no longer in Star Cove.

There’s some trash on the ground, a few broken bottles and cigarette butts.

“I’m never going to understand vandals.” My partner shakes her head. “Why make all this mess when there’s a dumpster right there?”

That’s a valid question, but there’s something else I’m wondering right now.

“You said you aren’t sure if this is related to the theft we just saw on camera. Don’t you have any footage of that?” I point at the camera perched on the wall right above the dumpster.

Dan looks embarrassed. “That has been broken for two years. I was always meant to get it fixed, but I keep forgetting. After all, Star Cove is a safe town. Nothing ever happens around here.”

“Until it does.” My partner comments.

I understand Dan’s frustration with this mess, but I think the stolen gas is more important than a little litter out here. “So why did you think the two incidents are connected?”

Dan takes a few steps away from the gas station main building. “Look.” He points down to the slightly cracked asphalt at our feet.

Tire marks. In a figure of eight.

“Do you think the gas thieves drove to the back of the station, stole the gas and then ran some loops back here?” my partner asks.

“Well, think about it. We’re right at the edge of town.

There isn’t much around here. We stay in business mostly thanks to the tourists who arrive in town in the summer and because of the college a couple of miles down in that direction.

But either way, you don’t just walk here.

You either drive from Shell Cove, or you drive from campus in the opposite direction. ”

He shows us what he means by walking out of the tiny area at the back of his station where the tire marks continue down the straight, semi abandoned road that leads to the outer edge of the college campus.

Tourists might use this gas station when they arrive from Shell Cove or when they leave at the end of the summer.

And I’m sure some of the college population fills up their cars or comes here to buy snacks when they don’t want to go all the way into town.

But I don’t think Dan makes a ton of money from this place, it’s literally in the middle of nowhere.

“Ok,” my partner says, taking a few pictures of the marks with her cell phone. “You might be right that the two things could be related. But without any footage to show us the cars involved, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“These aren’t car tires.” I interrupt her.

Olivia has been in the force a couple of years longer than me. She likes to remind me of that from time to time, especially when I disagree with her. “Oh, really?” she pops her hands on her hips. “What are they then, rookie?”

I stifle an eye roll at her challenging tone. “A car has four tires, so there would be more tracks. Whoever left these was on two wheels.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Dan answers the question before I can. “I think Ares… I mean Officer Hunter might be right. These marks were left on two wheels. He should know, he was a motorcycle racer. He almost raced in the MotoGP. Until… well, until he quit racing.”

I’m grateful to Dan for not rehashing the reason why I left the racing world and I haven’t been on a motorcycle ever since.

“Right.” Olivia says. “Someone mentioned that, but I forgot.”

Olivia isn’t from Star Cove. She moved here from San Francisco because of her husband’s job and ended up staying when he left after their marriage ended in divorce.

This information comes from Sheriff Pullin, not directly from the source. Olivia tends to be very quiet and reserved. She keeps our conversations strictly work related. We have been partners for six months and I don’t even know if she has kids.

“If I didn’t think it was impossible,” I muse. “I would say that these tire tracks come from a motorcycle.”

“Are you serious?” she frowns.

I don’t know what else to think. “It’s the only thing that’s consistent with these types of marks. A bicycle would have thinner tires, and it would be quite hard to go fast enough to leave marks like these.”

My partner doesn’t look pleased. “I thought people got rid of their motorcycle during the grace period after the new law passed. If someone in town is hiding a motorcycle, they’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

As if I didn’t know that. There are hefty fines and even jail time for breaking the law against owning and keeping a motorcycle within the town limits.

“We’ll talk to the sheriff, Dan. And we’ll let you know if our IT department comes up with anything. In the meantime, my advice would be to get that camera repaired.”

Dan agrees. “I’ll see what I can do. This is a family business I inherited from my father and he always refused to get into a franchise. So money can get tight from time to time.”

It’s always like this. When there’s even a small downturn in the economy, small businesses are the first to suffer. “Give a call to the mayor's office,” I suggest. “You know Star Cove supports its small businesses as much as possible.”

The gas station owner nods. “That’s right. I will. And you don’t forget to come around for that free beer next week, son.”

I reassure him that I will, but I have no intention of doing so.

I think Dan is a good man, but the sheriff would definitely frown upon me coming here and getting free beer.

In a small town, the line between being friendly with the community we serve and looking like we’re accepting some kind of bribes can be quite blurry.

“Hey, watch it!” I warn when the door opens and someone shoulder checks me right when I’m about to step outside.

“Sorry officer, I wasn’t looking where I was going—Hunter?”

The voice is familiar and so is the face that’s snarling at me the second he recognizes me.

“Fox? What the hell are you doing in Star Cove?”

His snarl turns into a derisive smile that makes me want to sink my fist into his face just for old times’ sake.

“Who’s asking? Hunter, the cop, or the asshole whose family killed my racing career?”

I can’t believe the nerve on this piece of shit.

He basically rode his bike over my brother’s dead body, trying to win a race that had been suspended.

“The last thing I remember is you getting in the way of the emergency crew after my brother had been hit by one of your bikes. If anyone killed your career, it was your own lack of humanity and compassion. No team would want an asshole who keeps racing when another competitor is down.”

Fox doesn’t show any signs of contrition. It shouldn’t surprise me. What comes as a surprise, however, is what he says next.

“No one gave a shit about that. I was in the zone and I didn’t realize what happened until I saw the ambulance. But your old man was out for blood. He couldn’t get the guy who hit your brother, so he made me his scapegoat.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I bite out.